accomplished superintendent of the Devil's Ford claim--otherwise known
as the Star-eyed Goddess o' Devil's Ford--every eye is fixed on the
mine, and Capital, so to speak, tumbles to her.' And when they sez that
the old man--excuse my freedom, but that's the way the boys talk of your
father, meaning no harm--the old man, instead o' trying to corral rich
widders--grass or otherwise--to spend their money on the big works for
the gold that ain't there yet--should stay in Devil's Ford and put all
his sabe and genius into grindin' out the little gold that is there, I
sez to them that it ain't your father's style. 'His style,' sez I, 'ez
to go in and build them works.' When they're done he turns round to
Capital, and sez he--'Look yer,' sez he, 'thar's all the works you
want, first quality--cost a million; thar's all the water you want,
onlimited--cost another million; thar's all the pay gravel you want
in and outer the ground--call it two millions more. Now my time's too
vally'ble; my professhun's too high-toned to WORK mines. I MAKE 'em.
Hand me over a check for ten millions and call it square, and work it
for yourself.' So Capital hands over the money and waltzes down to run
the mine, and you original locators walks round with yer hands in yer
pockets a-top of your six million profit, and you let's Capital take the
work and the responsibility."

Preposterous as this seemed from the lips of Whiskey Dick, Christie
had a haunting suspicion that it was not greatly unlike the theories
expounded by the clever young banker who had been her escort. She did
not interrupt his flow of reminiscent criticism; when he paused for
breath, she said, quietly:

"I met Mr. George Kearney the other day in the country."

Whiskey Dick stopped awkwardly, glanced hurriedly at Christie, and