"The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any
particular idea?" Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's
report. "Such as she is, we've done all we can do to the Burro
Lode, for a year at least," he said. "The assessment work is all
done--or will be when we muck out after that last shot. The
claim is filed--I don't know what more we can do right away.
Do you?"

"Sure thing," grinned Bud. "We can get outa here and go some
place where it's green."

"Yeah." Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. "Where it's
green." He looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at
the dreary march of the starved animals. "It's a long way to
green. country," he said.

They looked at the burros.

"They're tough little devils," Bud observed hopefully. "We
could take it easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing
light, and graining the whole bunch--"

"Yeah. We con ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as
though it would be foolish to hang on here any longer." Carefully
as he made his tests, Cash weighed the question of their going.
"This last report kills any chance of interesting capital to the
extent of developing the claim on a large enough scale to make it
profitable. It's too long a haul to take the ore out, and it's
too spotted to justify any great investment in machinery to
handle it on the ground. And," he added with an undernote of