gnation that stirred his deepest soul,
empty beer bottles on his bedroom floor. A whole cavalcade of horsemen
had gone down in the morning to the Cove and come galloping back at
night. Job had been to the milk-house and was coming back past the
side door in the dusk of the evening; it was ajar and the fumes of
tobacco smoke rolled out. He was tempted to peer in. Around the
cleared dining-table the crowd of red-faced guests were seated, with
Andy at the head playing the host in an awkward sort of way. On the
table were spread a big map and paper and ink.

"Well, Mr. Malden, this 'ere nugget came from the mine, you say.
Bloomin' purty, hain't h'it, fellows?" said a voice.

"Yes, gentlemen, I found that myself. My son Job and I were
prospecting, and we discovered it--the richest nugget ever found in
Grizzly county. Of course we kept it a secret; didn't want a rush up
here," replied Malden.

"What a lie!" said Job to himself. "That's the very nugget Mike
Hannerry found at the Yellow Jacket! Where on earth did uncle get it?"

"Come, Devonshire, let's buy 'er h'up and get h'out of this bloomin'
country. I want to get back to the club. The boat for Australia sails
Saturday," spoke up another voice.

"But now I want to ask the mon a thing," said a little shrewd-faced
Scotchman. "Is he sure the thing down the hollow isn't salted? I got
one salted mine in the colonies, and--"

"Salted!" said Andy, with an unnoticed flush on his face. "Salted! Do
you suppose, gentlemen, I would bring you here to sell you a salted
mine? You can ask anybody back in the city if my credit isn't
first-class."

"Oh, mon," said a tall Highlander, "oh, mon, the feller's crazy.
Salted--humph! We saw the gold with our own eyes. I say take the mine.
I'll take a thousand shares at a pound. How much is the deal, did the
mon say?"

"H'an 'undred thousand pounds. Cheap, I think," answered Devonshire.

"H'it's a go. We'll 'ave the stuff h'at the h'inn down h'in--what's
the name of that town?" said the tall one.

"Gold City, sir, Gold City!" spoke up the excited host.

"Well, Gold City--that's the spot. We'll pay the cash there. My
banker'll come h'in there to-night h'in the stage."

And as Job crept away, he heard them planning, between drinks, the
future of the "Anglo-American Gold Mining Syndicate," with main office
in London and place of operation in Grizzly county, State of
California, the United States of America.

Job did not sleep that nig