red hard, vainly endeavoring to grasp wherein he had offended.

"I--I don't get you," he said, in a bewildered fashion, dropping the
garment he was washing back into the soapsuds.

Bill's expression underwent another change as he caught at the words.

"You don't get me?" he said ironically. "You don't get me?" Then he
shrugged as though he was not angry, but merely deplored the other's
unsuspected cunning. "You can't strike it rich an' guess you're goin'
to blind folks. I'd say it needs every sort of a man to do that around
these parts."

Scipio gasped. He had no other feeling than blank astonishment.

"I ain't struck it rich," he protested.

And his denial was received with a forced peal of laughter.

"Say, you're a heap shrewd," cried Bill, when his laugh had subsided.
"I'd say you're jest about slick. Gee! Wal, I can't blame you any fer
holdin' your face shut. Ther's a mint o' dollars ken drop out of a
feller's mouth through an unnatteral openin'. Ef you'd got busy
gassin', it's a million dollar bet all the folks around this lay-out
'ud be chasin' you clear to death. Say, it's right, though? There's
chunks of it stickin' right out, fine, yaller, dandy gold. An' the
quartz bank cuttin' down wider an' wider?"

But Scipio shook his head. His bewilderment had gone, and in place of
it was sad conviction.

"Not yet," he said. "Not yet. I ain't seen it, anyway. I sure think
there's gold in plenty on that claim. I know there is," he added, with
unusual force, his pulses beginning to quicken, and a sudden hope
stirring. Bill's accusation was aiding the effect. "But it ain't on
the surface. It sure ain't."

He stood wondering, all his washing forgotten in this newly raised
hope so subtly stirred by the gambler. Had someone else discovered
what he had missed for so long? He hadn't been near his claim for some
days. Had someone--?

"Who says about the gold?" he demanded, with sudden inspiration.

"The folks."

The gambler passed the point without committing himself.

Scipio shook his head, puzzling. Something must surely have
transpired, and yet--

"You got me beat, Bill. You have, sure." The smile that accompanied
his words was good to see. But somehow the gambler found the far
horizon of more interest just then.

"You're a wide one all right," he said thoughtfully. "There's no
gettin' upsides with you. Give me them quiet, simple sort o' fellers
every time. They got the gas machine beat so far you couldn't l