"Then we're to do nothing just now but to shun mind-readers, write no
letters, and not talk in our sleep?"

"Just so," agreed Pete. "If my saddle could talk, I'd burn it. That's our
best lay. We'll tire 'em out. The most weariest thing in the world is to
hunt for a man that isn't there; the next worst is to watch a man that
has nothing to conceal. And our little old million-dollar-a-rod hill is
the unlikeliest place to look for a mine I ever did see. Just plain dirt
and sand. No indications; just a plain freak. I'd sooner take a chance in
the pasture lot behind pa's red barn--any one would. We covered up all
the scratchin' we did and the wind has done the rest. Here--you was to do
the talkin'. Go on."

"What we really need," declared Mitchell, "is an army--enough absolutely
trustworthy and reliable men to overmatch any interference."

"The largest number of honest men that was ever got together in one
bunch," said Pete, "was just an even eleven. Judas Iscariot was the
twelfth. That's the record. For that reason I've always stuck it out that
we ought to have only ten men on a jury, instead of twelve. It seems more
modest, somehow. But suppose we found ten honest men somewheres. It might
be done. I know where there's two right here in Arizona, and I've got my
suspicions of a third--honest about portable property, that is. With
cattle, and the like, they don't have any hard-and-fast rule; just
consider each case on its individual merits. How the case of automobiles
would strike them elder ethics is one dubious problem. Standing still, or
bein' towed, so it might be considered as a wagon, a car would be safe
enough; but proceedin' from hither to yon under its own power--I dunno.
I'll make a note of it. Well, you get the right idea for the first thing.