It was understood, without discussion, that Max should take the superintendence of all mining operations, that Len should be the buyer and business man of the firm generally, and that Sandy should look after the housekeeping. Of course, they would all work together, but these were the specialties of each partner.

“Now who is to go back after the rest of our possessions,” demanded Lennox, as they gathered at breakfast on the morning following their arrival. “I don’t reckon there’s any use of two going.”

“No—I’d as lief do it,” Max remarked. “I can re-cinch and manage the jacks rather better than the rest of you, I imagine.”

“You certainly have my permission,” remarked Lennox, with a smile.{14}

“An’ I’m no hinderin’ ye, as the brig said to the burn,” Sandy echoed. “The young man frae Virginia can stay an’ help me get the hoose in trim.”

So the donkeys were brought up and saddled, Max marched away, and the other lads turned to their house-cleaning.

The former owners of the property had built a pretty good log cabin at the head of the dump, close to the mouth of the tunnel, the door and front window of which faced down the gulch and straight at the Aurora’s dump. There was a rude fireplace in which had been left a dilapidated cooking stove. The first task was the straightening up of this, and putting it into condition for use, which Len soon accomplished.

At the farther end of the cabin a series of bunks had been built out of poles. These were now broken and unwholesome, so they were pulled to pieces, the loose bark and other dirt cleared away from the logs and floor behind them, and new ones were put up,{15} a layer of slender, elastic poles making an excellent bed-bottom in each bunk; and spruce boughs luxurious mattresses upon which to spread the buffalo robes and blankets.

This and some other tidying had taken all day, but when Max came in about sundown, the kettle was singing and dancing on the old stove, that leaked fire-light, if not fire, from a dozen cracks, and all three were well satisfied with themselves and their snug home; while the boy, who came with Max to drive the donkeys back, was loud in his praises, and went away convinced that no body on the Creek could make flapjacks equal to Sandy McKinnon.

That evening, as they sat in the doorway, wedging handles into the picks and preparing the little mine lamps, Max suddenly exclaimed:

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! While I was packing the last burro, Squint-eyed Bob came moseying around and wanted to know what I was up to and where I was going, and so on—evidently prying ’round for informa{16}tion. I gave him short answers, but he wasn’t satisfied, and finally boned me outright to know if we weren’t going up to Jim Bowen’s mine on Panther Creek. That roused my dander. ‘Hang it, Bob,’ I retorted, ‘what business is it of yours, where I’m going, or what I am doing? May be I’m going up Panther Creek and may be I’m not—I don’t see what odds it makes to you!’ He saw I was mad and backed off, but he blurted out one thing before he left, that I don’t quite savvy.”

“What was that?”

“I can’t give his words exactly, but it was to the effect that ‘in this country, when a man jumped another man’s claim he was dogon likely to hear from it pretty soon, and that what was left of him wasn’t worth any funeral expenses.’ Then he yelled something about ‘fixing me,’ and went off. Now what can he do?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” said Len. “It’s all bluster. He was trying to bluff you.”{17}

“That may be, but he means to make mischief if he can, and we must look out for him. However, I fancy we’re safe till morning, and I’m going to sleep. Good-night.”

“As for Jim Bowen,” Len answered, “he told me himself, when he was here last, that if I ever wanted to do anything in or about the Aurora, I was welcome to do what I could, for he never should try to develop it.”