"Mr. Mitchell," said Pete, leaning forward in his eagerness, "I reckon
that mine of ours is just about the richest strike ever found in Arizona!
Of course it ain't rightly a mine--it's only where a mine is goin' to be.
Just a claim. There's nothin' done to it yet. But it's sure goin' to be a
crackajack. There's a whole solid mountain of high-grade copper."

"Stanley says he wants me to finance it. He offers to refund all expenses
if the mine--if the claim"--Mitchell smiled cordially as he made the
correction--"does not prove all he represents."

"Well, that ought to make you safe. Stan's got a right smart of property
out there. I don't know how he's fixed back here. Mr. Mitchell, if you
don't look into this, you'll be missin' the chance of your life."

"But if the claim is so rich, why do you need money?"

"You don't understand. This copper is in the roughest part of an awful
rough mountain--right on top," said Pete, most untruthfully. "That's why
nobody ain't ever found it before--because it is so rough. It'll cost a
heap of money just to build a wagon road up to it--as much as five or six
thousand dollars, maybe. Stan and me can't handle it alone. We got to
take some one in, and we gave you the first show. And I wish," said Pete
nervously, "that you could see your way to come in with us and go right
back with me, at once. We're scared somebody else might find it and
make a heap of trouble. There's some mighty mean men out there."

"Have a cigar?" said the lawyer, opening a desk drawer.

He held a match for his visitor and observed, with satisfaction, that
Pete's hand shook. Plainly here was a simple-minded person who would be