Bacon.

"Do you mean to say there actually _is_ gold--" began Mr. Bonaparte, but
he got no farther. Whether accidentally or otherwise, Mr. Bacon's foot
came sharply into contact with the speaker's shin, and the question
terminated in a pained look of surprise, directed with some intensity
and a great deal of fortitude at nothing in particular.

"Well, you _are_ a wonder, Mr. Crow," said Mr. Bacon hastily. "I am
immensely relieved that you _do_ know of its existence. It simplifies
matters tremendously. It has been there all the time and you've never
known just how to go about getting it out of the ground--isn't that the
case, Mr. Crow?"

"Exactly," said Mr. Crow.

Mr. Bacon shot a significant look at Mr. Bonaparte, and that worthy put
his hand suddenly to his mouth.

"Well, that's what we're here for, Mr. Crow--to get that gold out of the
earth. If our estimates are correct--or, I should say, if our
investigations establish the fact that it is a real vein and not merely
a little pocket, there ought to be a million dollars in that piece of
land of yours. Now, let me see. Just how much land do you own up there,
Mr. Crow?"

"I own derned near all of it," said the marshal promptly. "'Bout
seventy-five acres, I should say."

"Nothing but timberland, I assume--judging from what we have been able
to observe."

"All timber. Never been cleared, 'cept purty well down the slope."

"And it is about five miles as the crow flies from Tinkletown, eh?"

"I ginerally say as the wild goose flies," said Mr. Crow, somewhat
curtly.

"Well, you have heard the proposition I bring from my employers in New
York City. Think it over tonight, Mr. Crow. Then, we will meet tomorrow
morning at your office to complete our plans. I shall be prepared to
hand you a draft for two hundred dollars to bind the bargain. What time
do you reach your office?"

"Ginerally some'eres between six and a quarter-past."

"My God!" muttered Mr. Bonaparte.

"We will be there at six-fifteen," said Mr. Bacon firmly. "Good evening,
Mr. Crow."

Far in the night, Mrs. Crow peevishly mumbled to her bedfellow: "What
ails you, Anderson Crow? Go to sleep!"

"Never mind, never mind. I can't tell you, so don't pester me. All I ast
of you is to wake me at five if I happen to oversleep."

"Well, of all the--do you suppose I'm goin' to lay awake here all night
waitin' for five o'clock to----"

"How in thunder do you expect me to go to sleep, Eva, if you keep
ja