st have to succeed now--and I'm going to!"

CHAPTER XIII

SWEDE LUCK

As the sun set that evening in a trailing blaze of glory Denver Russell
came out and sat with bared arms, looking lazily down at the town. The
news of his strike had roused them at last, these easy-going, do-nothing
old-timers; and now, from an outcast, a crack-brained hobo miner, he was
suddenly accepted as an equal. They spoke to him, they recognized him,
they rushed up to his mine and stared at the ore he had dug; and even
the Professor had purloined a specimen to take over and show to Murray.
And all because, while the rest of them loafed, he had drifted in on his
vein until he cut the stringer of copper. It was Swede luck again--the
luck of that great people who invented the wheel-barrow, and taught the
Irish to stand erect and run it.

Denver could smile a little, grimly, as he recalled Old Bunker's stories
and his fleering statement that a mule could work; but, now that he had
struck copper at the breast of his tunnel, the mule was suddenly a
gentleman. He was good enough to speak to, and for Bunker's daughter to
speak to, and for his wife to invite to supper; and all on account of a
vein of copper that was scarcely two inches thick. It was rich and it
widened out, instead of pinching off as a typical gash-vein would; and
while it would take a fortune to develop it, it was copper, and copper
was king. Silver and gold mines were nothing now, for silver was down
and gold was losing its purchasing power; but the mining journals were
full of articles about copper, and it had risen to thirty cents a pound.

Thirty cents, when a few years ago it had dropped as low as eleven! And
it was still going up, for the munition factories were clamoring for it
and the speculators were bidding up futures. Even Bible-Back Murray, who
had a reputation as a pincher, had suddenly become prodigal with his
money and was working day and night, trying to tap a hidden copper
deposit. He had caught the contagion, the lure of tremendous profits,
and he was risking his all on the venture. What would he have to say now
if his diamond drill tapped nothing and a hobo struck it rich over at
Queen Creek? Well, he could say what he pleased, for Denver was
determined not to sell for a million dollars. He had come there with a
purpose, in answer to a prophecy, and there yet remained to win the
golden treasure and the beautiful woman who was an artist.

Every little th