he'd have uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the
rest what he had. Or maybe he died just when he had started that
hole. Seems queer he never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well,
let's eat if it's ready, Bud. Then we'll see."

"Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and
filed on any claims here?" Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled
beans into a basin and set it on the table. "Want any prunes to-
night, Cash?"

Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there
were none cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes
clinging to the grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the
table beside his plate.

"We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away," he
observed, "and have it assayed. And we won't let out anything
about it, Bud--good or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it
mucked over with a lot of gold-crazy lunatics."

Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. "We ain't been followed
up with stampedes so far," he pointed out. "Burro Lode never
caused a ripple in the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a
sinful world it looked awful good, too."

"Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much
strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against
violent effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly
calm when I discovered that big ledge. It is just as well--
seeing how it petered out."