"I don't," exclaimed Jim Ferrers. "At the same time, gentlemen,
I know your kind well enough. Both of you talk of fighting as
though you dreaded it, but I'll tell you, gentlemen, that I wouldn't
_dare_ to try any nasty tricks on either of you."

"We understand each other, then," Tom nodded. "Now, then, let
us try to make up our minds just where we would want to stake
off this claim if the gold assays as well as it looks."

At the beginning Tom and Harry built a little pile of stones.
Then, by mere pacing they laid off what they judged to be the
fifteen hundred feet of length which the government allows to
a single mining claim.

"We can attend to the proper width later," suggested Tom. "Now,
what do you say if we make for camp at once. I'm not hungry;
still, I think I could eat my half of a baked ox."

The instant that the trio reached camp, Jim Ferrers, with an unwonted
mist in his eyes, began to juggle the cooking utensils. Tom busied
himself with building the best fire that he could under the chamber
of the assaying furnace, while Harry Hazelton, rolling up his
sleeves, began to demonstrate his muscle by pulverizing little
piles of ore in a hand-mill.

"Be careful not to mix the lots, Harry," advised Tom, glancing
over from his station by the furnace.

"Thanks for the caution," smiled Hazelton. "But I have just enough
intelligence left to understand the value of knowing from what