ing moved into the bank building
where he had formerly officiated as president--and made a break for his
machine; but other eyes had marked his arrival in town and Death Valley
Charley button-holed him.

"Say," he said, "do you want something good--an option on ten
first-class claims? Well, come with me; I'll make you an offer that
you can't hardly, possibly refuse."

He led Wiley up an alley, then whisked him around corners and back to
his house behind the Widow's.

"Now, listen," he went on, when Wiley was in a chair and he had
carefully fastened the door, "I'm going to show you something good."

He reached under his bed and brought out ten sacks of samples which he
spread, one by one, on the table.

"Now, you see?" he said. "It's all that white quartz that you was after
on the Paymaster dump. I followed the outcrop, on an extension of the
Paymaster, and I took up ten, good, opened claims."

"Umm," murmured Wiley, and examined each sample with a careful,
appraising eye. "Yes, pretty good, Charley; I suppose you guarantee the
title? Well, how much do you want for your claims?"

"Oh, whatever you say," answered Charley modestly, "but I want two
hundred dollars down."

"And about a million apiece, I suppose, for the claims? It doesn't cost
_me_ anything, you know, on an option."

"Eh, heh, heh," laughed Charley indulgently and Heine, who had been
looking from face to face, jumped up and barked with delight. "Eh, heh;
yes, that's good; but you know me, Mr. Holman--I ain't so crazy as they
think. No, I don't talk millions with my mouth full of beans; all I want
is five hundred apiece. But I got to have two hundred down."

"Oh," observed Wiley, "that's two dollars for the marriage license and
the rest for the wedding journey. Well, if it's as serious as that----"
He reached for his check-book and Charley cackled with merriment.

"Yes, yes," he said, "then I _would_ be crazy. Do you know what the
Colonel told me?

"'Charley,' he says, 'whatever you do, don't marry no talking woman.
She'll drive you crazy, the same as I am; but don't you forget that
whiskey.'"

"Oh, sure," exclaimed Wiley, beginning to write out the option, "this
money is to buy whiskey for the Colonel!"

"That's it," answered Charley. "He's over across Death Valley--in the
Ube-Hebes--but I can't find my burros. They--Heine, come here, sir!"
Heine came up cringing and Charley slapped him soundly. "Shut up!" he
commanded and as Heine crept aw