u knew they were worth eight
hundred at least."

"Yes, that's so," admitted Charley, blinking and rubbing his chin, "but
you know them women, Wiley. They're crazy, that's all, and the Colonel
he told me special not to let them lose their mine."

"Well, never mind the mine," said Wiley wincing. "I'm talking about this
stock. Don't you think it's your duty, by George, as guardian, to turn
around and buy it back? You've got five thousand dollars coming to you
on those claims of yours and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'm short,
right now on account of buying machinery, and so I can't pay you much
cash; but if you'll take this stock back in part payment of your claims
I'll give you four hundred more."

"Well, all right," agreed Charley after gazing at him thoughtfully, "but
you ought to give back that mine. The Colonel, he told me----"

"What do you mean, give it back?" demanded Wiley, irritably. "It isn't
my property yet. I've got to pay for it first and get it away from old
Blount before I can give it to anybody. That's fifty thousand dollars
that I've got to make clear between now and the twentieth of May; but
believe me, Charley, if I once get it paid for I'm going to do something
noble."

"That's good," assented Charley, "but you've got to pay me, right
off--there's something going to happen!" His sun-dazed eyes opened up
wide with excitement and he listened long and earnestly at the door
before he tiptoed back to Wiley's desk. "I can hear 'em," he said.
"They're going to blow up the mine and shake the mountains down.
They're boring through the ground, but I can hear them working--it's
like worms eating their way through wood."

"Is that so?" queried Wiley. "Well, maybe we can stop 'em. I'll look
after it, right away. But now about this stock----"

"It's the Germans!" burst out Charley. "They've got boring machines that
eat through mountains like wood. And then, _bumm_, it's them mines,
and the dynamite bombs----"

"Yes, it's awful," agreed Wiley, "but here's your money, Charley; so
maybe you'd better go. And you keep this stock now, until it comes
Christmas; and then, Christmas Eve, you slip into the house and put it
in Virginia's stocking."

"Oh--yes," agreed Charley, still listening to the Germans and then he
became lost in deep thought. "The Colonel will kill me," he said at
last. "It's Christmas, and I ain't brought his whiskey."

"Why, what's the matter?" joshed Wiley. "Why didn't you deliver it? Did
y