"No, I'll tell you what's the matter with these prospectors," returned Denver with a miner's scorn, "they do everything in the world but dig.

They'll hike, and hunt burros and go out across the desert; but anything that calls for a few taps of work they'll pa.s.s it right up, every time.

And I'll tell you, old-timer, all the mines on top of ground have been located long ago. That's why you hear so much about 'Swede luck' these days--the Swede ain't too lazy to sink.

"That's my motto--sink! Get down to bed-rock and see what there is on the bottom; but these danged prospectors just hang around the water-holes and play pedro until they eat up their grub-stakes."

"Heh, heh; that's right," responded Bunker reminiscently, "say, did you ever hear of old Abe Berg? He used to keep a store down below in Moroni; and there was one of these old prospectors that made a living that way, used to touch him up regular for a grub-stake. Old Abe was about as easy as Bible-Back Murray when you showed him a rich piece of ore and after this prospector had et up all his grub he'd drift back to town for more.

But on the way in, like all of them fellers, he'd stop at some real good mine; and after he'd stole a few chunks of high-grade ore he'd take it along to show to Abe. But after a while Old Abe got suspicious--he didn't fall for them big stories any more--and at last he began to enquire just where this bonanza was, that the prospector was reporting on so favorable. Well, the feller told him and Abe he scratched his head and enquired the name of the mine.

"'Why, I call it the Juniper,' says the old prospector kind of innocent; and Abe he jumped right up in the air.

"'Vell, dat's all right,' he yells, tapping himself on the chest, 'but here's one Jew, I betcher, dat you von't nip again!' Get the point--he thought the old prospector was making a joke of it and calling his mine the Jew-Nipper!"

"Yeah, I'm hep," replied Russell, "say who is this feller that you call Bible-Back Murray--has he got any claims around here?"

"Claims!" repeated Bunker, "well, I guess he has. He's got a hundred if I've got one--this whole upper district is located."

"What--this whole country?" exclaimed Denver in sudden dismay, "the whole range of hills--all that lays in the shadow of the Leap?"

"Jest about," admitted Bunker, "but as I told you before, you can have any of mine for five hundred."

"Oh h.e.l.l," burst out Denver and then he roused up and a challenge crept into his voice. "Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that he's kept up his a.s.sessment work? Has he done a hundred dollars worth of work on every claim? No, you know danged well he hasn't--you've just been doing lead-pencil work."

"That's all right," returned Bunker, "we've got a gentlemen's agreement to respect each others monuments; and you'll find our sworn statements that the work has been done on file with the County Recorder."

"Yes, and now I know," grumbled Russell rebelliously, "why the whole danged district is dead. You and Murray and this old Dutchman have located all the ground and you're none of you doing any work. But when a miner like me blows into the camp and wants to prospect around he's stuck for five hundred dollars. How'm I going to buy my powder and a little grub and steel if I give up my roll at the start? No, I'll look this country over and if I find what I want----"

"You'll pay for it, young man," put in Bunker Hill pointedly, "that is, if it belongs to me."

"Well, I will if it's worth it," answered Russell grudgingly, "but you've got to show me your t.i.tle."

"Sure I will," agreed Bunker, "the best t.i.tle a man can have--continuous and undisputed possession. I've been here fifteen years and I've never had a claim jumped yet."

"Who's this Bible-Back Murray?" demanded Denver, "has he got a clean t.i.tle to his ground?"

"You bet he has," replied Bunker Hill, "and he's got my name as a witness that his yearly a.s.sessment work's been done."

"And you, I suppose," suggested Denver sarcastically, "have got _his_ name, as an affidavit man, to prove that _your_ work has been done. And when I look around I'll bet there ain't a hole anywhere that's been sunk in the last two years."

"Yes there is!" contradicted Bunker, "you go right up that wash that comes down from them north hills and you'll find one that's down twelve hundred feet. And there's a diamond drill outfit sinking twenty feet a day, and has been for the last six months. At five dollars a foot--that's the contract price--Old Bible-Back is paying a hundred dollars a day. Now--how many days will that drill have to run to do the annual work? No, you're all right, young man, and I like your nerve, but you don't want to take too much for granted."

"Judas priest!" exclaimed Russell, "twelve hundred feet deep? What does the old boy think he's got?"

"He's drilling for copper," nodded Bunker significantly, "and for all you and I know, he's got it. He's got an armed guard in charge of that drill, and no outsider has been allowed anywhere near it for going on to six months. The cores are all stored away in boxes where n.o.bodv can get their hands on them and the way old Bible-Back is sweating blood I reckon they're close to the ore. But a hundred dollars a day--say, the way things are now that'll make or break old Murray. He's been blowing in money for ten or twelve years trying to develop his silver properties; but now he's crazy as a bed-bug over copper--can't talk about anything else."

"Is that so?" murmured Denver and as he went about his work his brain began to seethe and whirl. Here was something he had not known of, an element of chance which might ruin all his plans; for if the diamond drill broke into rich copper ore his chance at the two treasures would be lost. There would be a big rush and the price of claims would soar to thousands of dollars. The country looked well for copper, with its heavy cap of dacite and the manganese filling in the veins; and it was only a day's journey in each direction from the big copper camps of Ray and Globe. He turned impulsively and reached for his purse, but as he was about to plank down his five hundred dollars in advance he remembered Mother Trigedgo's words.

"Choose well between the two and both shall be yours. But if you choose unwisely, then both will be lost and you will suffer humiliation and shame."

"Say," blurted out Denver, "your claims are all silver--haven't you got a gold prospect anywhere?"

"No, I haven't," answered Old Bunk, his eye on the bank-roll, "but I'll accept a deposit on that offer. Any claim I've got--except the Lost Burro itself--for five hundred dollars, cash."

"How long is that good for?" enquired Russell cautiously and Bunker slapped his leg for action.

"It's good for right now," he said, "and not a minute after!"

"But I've got to look around," pleaded Denver desperately, "I've got to find both these treasures--one of silver and one of gold--and make my choice between them."

"Well, that's your business," said Bunker rising up abruptly. "Will you take that offer or not?"

"No," replied Denver, putting up his purse and Old Bunk glanced at him shrewdly.

"Well, I'll give you a week on it," he said, smiling grimly, and stood up to look down the trail. Denver looked out after him and there, puffing up the slope, came Professor Diffenderfer, the eminent b.u.t.tinsky and geologist.

CHAPTER VII

THE EMINENT b.u.t.tINSKY

That there was no love lost between Bunker Hill and Professor Diffenderfer was evident by their curt greetings, but as they began to bandy words Denver became suddenly aware that he was the cause of their feud. He and his eight hundred dollars, a sum so small that a shoestring promoter would hardly notice it; and yet these two men with their superfluity of claims were fighting for his favor like p.a.w.n-brokers.

Bunker Hill had seen him first and claimed him as his right; but Professor Diffenderfer, ignoring the ethics of the game, was out to make a sale anyway. He carried in one hand a large sack of specimens, and under his arm were some weighty tomes which turned out to be Government reports. He came up slowly, panting and sweating in the heat, and when he stepped in Bunk was waiting for him.

"O-ho," he said, "here comes the Professor. The only German count that ever gave up his t.i.tle to become an American barber. Well, Professor, you're just the man I'm looking for--I want to ask your professional opinion. If two white-bellied mice ran down the same hole would the one with the shortest tail get down first?"

The Professor staggered in and sat down heavily while he wiped the sweat from his eyes.

"Mr. Russell," he began, ignoring the grinning Bunker, "I vant to expound to you the cheology of dis country--I haf made it a lifelong study."

"Yes, you want to get this," put in Bunker _sotto voce_, "he knows every big word in them books."

"I claim," went on the Professor, slapping the books together vehemently, "I claim dat in dis district we haf every indication of a gigantic deposit of copper. The morphological conditions, such as we see about us everywhere, are distinctly favorable to metalliferous deposition; and the genetic influences which haf taken place later----"

"Well, he's off," sighed Bunker rising wearily up and ambling over towards the door, "so long, Big Boy, I'll see you to-morrow. Never could understand broken English."

"Dat's all righd!" spat back the Professor with spiteful emphasis, "I'm addressing my remarks to dis _chentleman_!"

"Ah--so!" mimicked Bunker. "Vell, shoodt id indo him! And say, tell him about that tunnel! Tell him how you went in until the air got bad and came out up the hill like a gopher. Took a double circ.u.mbendibus and, after describing a parabola----"

"Dat's all righd!" repeated the Professor, "now--you think you're so smart--I'm going to prove _you_ a liar! I heard you the other day tell dis young man here dat dere vas no golt in dis district. Vell! All righd! We vill see now--joost look! Vat you call _dat_ now, my goot young friend?" He dumped out the contents of his canvas ore-sack and nodded to Denver triumphantly. "I suppose dat aindt golt, eh! Maybe I try to take advantage of you and show you what dey call fools gold--what mineralogists call pyrites of iron? No? It aindt dat? Vell, let me ask you vun question den--am I righd or am I wrong?"

"You're right, old man," returned Denver eagerly as he held a specimen to the light; and when he looked up Bunker Hill was gone.

"You see?" leered the Professor jerking his thumb towards the door, "dot man vas trying to _do_ you. He don't like to haf me show you dis golt. He vants you to believe dat here is only silver; but I am a cheologist--I know!"

"Yes, this is gold," admitted Denver, wetting the thin strip of quartz, "but it don't look like much of a vein. Whereabouts did you get these specimens?"