know! Isn't it, Phil?"

Phil failed to respond.

"But why Lost Durkin, Mr. Dalton?"

"It's like this: Durkin and another guy were the discoverers of this
ere mine. It panned out,--well!--nobody knowed for sure certain how it
panned out; only Durkin and his pal always had lots of nuggets and
dust. Durkin's pal went away and Durkin worked it all by hisself. They
say he struck it rich in a vein and went batty over it. Anyway, he
acted queer for a time. One day his hat was found in the tunnel, and
no sign of Durkin from that day to this.

"Durkin's pal, Don Flannigan, without ever comin' back, sold out the
mine to Jem Grierson. Grierson sold to me. It ain't been worked to
speak of since Durkin tried it out. The gold might be lyin' there just
for the pickin' up."

"Oh, say, Rattlesnake!--come off," interposed Phil.

"Why, Hannington,--every hobo that has come to this Valley is open to
have a go at it any old time he likes."

"Not on your tin tacks! I hold the mining rights to it, and nobody
else. Just let somebody try it on!" put in Dalton.

"But there must be some gold in it, Phil!" remarked Hannington.

"Sure,--about four dollars a day hard working!"

"By jove!--if there's that, there might be more, you know."

"Yes, and there might not!"

"If the gold was absolutely sure, Phil, you know nobody would sell.
Would they? A man has got to take a chawnce.

"What do you want for the bally thing, Mr. Dalton?"

"One thousand plunks," remarked Dalton without a tremor.

"Plunks?"

"Yes, plunks,--bucks!"

"Bucks?"

"Yes,--plunks, bucks, greenbacks, In-God-We-Trusts, D-O-double
L-A-R-S."

"Two hundred quid!" figured Hannington roughly, who, for the proper
realisation of actual values still had the habit of converting his
dollars into English coinage.

"Tisn't much for a gold mine, Phil,--is it now?"?

"I could get you a dozen for that."

"Oh, now, Phil!"

Rattlesnake Jim was getting impatient.

"Say, mister--if you're interested, come outside and talk. No use
trying to make a deal, with this old man of the sea out playin'
buttinsky."

"Don't be a fool now," interposed Phil. "Stay where you are!"

But DeRue Hannington was in the toils again, and the fever was in his
blood.

Dalton walked slowly to the door.

Hannington hesitated, looked sheepishly at Phil, then exclaimed over
his shoulder:

"Eh, excuse me, old chap,--won't you!" And he hurried alongside the
owner of The Lost Durkin Gold Mine.