They calmed Virgie, George stalked out and brought in his brand new pick and spade, and during dinner and Terry tried to explain.  
"You see, we've got our mines ready, all right," concluded Terry, "but we can't work 'em."
 
"Why don't you make those fellows give you water, then?" demanded the spunky George. "Let's all go over there tonight with our guns and open a ditch. If my gun would shoot I'd go alone."
 
"Trouble is, their guns do shoot, I reckon," drawled Harry. "And another trouble is, the water all around is petering out anyway. That stream below is scarcely a . Pretty soon we'll be carrying our drinking and cooking water from Clear , and that's a long tote."
 
"Pat says there's talk of digging a big ditch and fetching water into the from a river over yonder," informed Terry. "But it will cost money, and anybody who uses the water will have to buy by the inch."
 
"Why don't we wait for it?" proposed George. "You've got some money saved up, and you're making more, aren't you? Your father didn't say anything about wanting his hundred dollars. He grub-staked you, on a chance."
 
"Yes, and his chance is powerful slim," retorted Harry. "He can do more with the hundred dollars than he can with a dry . A hundred dollars is all we've been offered for it, and so his half interest amounts to only $50, and he'd lose out. We'll pay him what we borrowed and we'll do the waiting."
 
"Did they sell the ?" asked Terry.
 
"Part trade, and the rest is to come out of the crops. Guess they haven't got very much cash yet," answered George.
 
"That settles it," pronounced Harry. "When you go down you can take our dust. I reckon there's near a hundred dollars."
 
"I'm not going down, for a while," declared George. "I'll throw in with you fellows. Guess I can find something to do."
 
"What!"
 
"That's right," and George stubbornly wagged his head. "Maybe I won't get rich, but I can stick. I can dig around here, can't I? And tote water and help with the cooking?"
 
"!" cheered Terry. "He can have the True Blue and dig there; but I shouldn't wonder if Pat would hire him. We need another man."
 
"I can dig better than I can bake," admitted George. "I'll do something to earn my keep. I mean to stay and help out, Virgie can go back in the morning with those people who brought us in. They're just looking about. Where does the True Blue lie? Can I have it? Have you dug much there?"
 
"No. It's a drier claim than this. The water was on our side, so we thought we'd clean up the Golden Prize first."
 
"How much land is the True Blue?"
 
"One hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, same as the Golden Prize. We run one hundred feet from the cabin and into that little draw, and then the True Blue begins."
 
George stood up and gazed. His new property did not seem to impress him very favorably; and indeed it was not especially , being a bare rocky slope, pitted here and there with the shallow prospect holes of the preacher.
 
"Shucks!" he criticized. "It's mostly dirt and stones. I haven't got even that trough."
 
"You mean 'sluice,'" grandly corrected Terry. "'Trough' is a tenderfoot word. All you can do is pan, anyway, with a bucket of water. But I've got to go back to Pat."
 
"Might as well ask him for a job for me, will you?" responded George. "I'll take it unless I strike things rich first, and can make more money panning."
 
Terry away. George helped Harry with the dishes, then carried a bucketful of water to his claim and proceeded to "mine." This was working under difficulties, and Virgie, who had followed close after, proudly his spade, soon returned.
 
"I don't think that's much fun," she stated.
 
"Well, it isn't," agreed Harry. "And 'most of the folks who expected to get rich easy think the same way."
 
Presently George gave up, out of humor. He was not only tired, but hot and grimy, too.
 
"There's not a blamed sign of gold in that whole claim," he crossly declared. "You fellows got cheated. You can have it back again. I'll dig for Pat Casey. Will he pay me a dollar and a half a day?"
 
"He ought to pay you the same he pays Terry. That's three dollars a day for you two, and four dollars a day for me, and some days I make five—one day I made seven, and on Sundays I'm sure of six—! Why, there's a gold mine in itself. We'll be flying high," encouraged Harry.
 
George up. But—
 
"Huh!" he . "'Tisn't a pound a day, though."
 
"Terry's coming," piped Virgie.
 
So he was—not only coming, but bringing his tools with him, and also a decidedly disgusted aspect.
 
"Don't you work any more?" called George. "Doesn't he want me?"
 
"Naw!" Terry, throwing down his pick and spade. "He's . And he doesn't want any more pies, either. Here are the last two. He can't eat 'em—says he has indigestion."
 
"Well, don't step on them," warned Harry. "We can eat them. But how is he 'busted'?"
 
"It isn't his claim," answered Terry. "That is, maybe he doesn't own it at all. Some men he was arguing with this morning say it's theirs. So nobody'll work there till things are settled up. And Pat's as mad as a hornet. They say all the dust in his oyster-can is theirs, too, because he got it out of that hole."
 
"Whew!" Harry. "The Extra Limited & Co. seem to be more limited than ever. And that's hard luck for Pat."
 
"What'll we all do, then?" George, aghast. "Light out and go down to Denver?"
 
"Not ............