on, that if one half was worth two hundred and
fifty, two halves were worth three times as much.

In the end,--and even Bidwell retained no more than hazy recollections of
how the night terminated,--a bill of sale was drawn up, wherein Bill
Rader and Charles Mitchell yielded up all right and title to the claim
known as 24 ELDORADO, the same being the name the creek had received from
some optimistic _chechaquo_.

When Kink had signed, it took the united efforts of the three to arouse
Bill. Pen in hand, he swayed long over the document; and, each time he
rocked back and forth, in Ans Handerson's eyes flashed and faded a
wondrous golden vision. When the precious signature was at last appended
and the dust paid over, he breathed a great sigh, and sank to sleep under
a table, where he dreamed immortally until morning.

But the day was chill and grey. He felt bad. His first act, unconscious
and automatic, was to feel for his sack. Its lightness startled him.
Then, slowly, memories of the night thronged into his brain. Rough
voices disturbed him. He opened his eyes and peered out from under the
table. A couple of early risers, or, rather, men who had been out on
trail all night, were vociferating their opinions concerning the utter
and loathsome worthlessness of Eldorado Creek. He grew frightened, felt
in his pocket, and found the deed to 24 ELDORADO.

Ten minutes later Hootchinoo Bill and Kink Mitchell were roused from
their blankets by a wild-eyed Swede that strove to force upon them an ink-
scrawled and very blotty piece of paper.

"Ay tank Ay take my money back," he gibbered. "Ay tank Ay take my money
back."

Tears were in his eyes and throat. They ran down his cheeks as he knelt
before them and pleaded and implored. But Bill and Kink did not laugh.
They might have been harder hearted.

"First time I ever hear a man squeal over a minin' deal," Bill said. "An'
I make free to say 'tis too onusual for me to savvy."

"Same here," Kink Mitchell remarked. "Minin' deals is like
horse-tradin'."

They were honest in their wonderment. They could not conceive of
themselves raising a wail over a business transaction, so they could not
understand it in another man.

"The poor, ornery _chechaquo_," murmured Hootchinoo Bill, as they watched
the sorrowing Swede disappear up the trail.

"But this ain't Too Much Gold," Kink Mitchell said cheerfully.

And ere the day was out they purchased flour and bacon at exor