not halt when he saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came
on steadily, his keen, blue-gray eyes peering sharply from
beneath his forward tilted hat brim. He came up to within ten
feet of Bud, and stopped.

"Well!" He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed
Frank a couple of hours before. "I was just starting out to see
what had become of you," he added, his voice carrying the full
weight of reproach that the words only hinted at.

"Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here--
and lookin's cheap." Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he
read in Cash's eyes, his voice, the set of his lips.

But Cash did not take the challenge. "Did the report come?" he
asked, as though that was the only matter worth discussing.

Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to
Cash. He stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and
returned it.

"Yeah. About what I thought--only it runs lighter in gold,
with a higher percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see
what's at bed rock. If the copper holds up to this all along,
we'll be figuring on the gold to pay for getting the copper. This
is copper country, Bud. Looks like we'd found us a copper mine."
He turned and walked on beside Bud. "I dug in to quite a rich
streak of sand while you was gone," he volunteered after a
silence. "Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure
we better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel