me, I'd a dom sight ruther go be yer buke, young
feller--and more I cannot say than thot."

The professor went back to his ledge on the hillside and began to peck
away with his pick, getting a sample for Murphy to look at. He rather
liked Murphy, who had addressed him as young feller--a term sweet to
the ears of any man when he had passed forty-five and was still going.
By George! an old miner like Murphy ought to know a fair prospect when
he saw it! The professor hoped that he might really find gold on his
claim. Gold would not lessen the timber value, and it would magnify
the profits. They expected to make somewhere near six thousand dollars
off each twenty acres; perhaps more, since they were noble trees and
good, honest pine that brought the best price from the mills. Six
thousand dollars was worth while, certainly; but think of the fortune
if they could really find gold. He would have a more honest right to
the claim, then. He wondered what Murphy thought of the shaft he was
sinking over there, where Fred had perfunctorily broken through the
leaf mold with a "prospect" hole, and had ordered Murphy and Mike to
dig to bed-rock, and stop when they had the assessment work finished.

What Murphy thought of it Murphy was succinctly expressing just then
to Mike, with an upward twinkle of his thick, convex glasses, and a
contemptuous fling of his shovelful of dirt up over the rim of the
hole.

"My gorry, I think this mine we're workin' on was located by the
bake," he chuckled. "Fer if not that, will ye tell me why else they
want 'er opened up? There's as much gold here as I've got in me
pocket, an' not a dom bit more."

"Well, that man I knowed in Minnesota, he tuk a crooked sthick,"
gobbled Mike, whose speech, as well as his mind had been driven askew
by the railroad tie; but Murphy impatiently shut him up again.

"A-ah, an' that's about as much as ye iver did know, I'm thinkin',
le's have no more av yer crooked sthick. Hand me down that other pick,
fer this wan is no sharper than me foot."

He worked steadily after that, flinging up the moist soil with an
asperated "a-ah" that punctuated regularly each heave of his shoulder
muscles. In a little he climbed out and helped Mike rig a windlass
over the hole. Mike pottered a good deal, and stood often staring
vacantly, studying the next detail of their work. When he was not
using them, his hands drooped helplessly at his sides, a sign of
mental slackness never to be m