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The two partners looked at each other, and then, to Barker’s infinite perplexity, the same extraordinary convulsion that had seized Miss Kitty fell upon them. They laughed, holding on each other’s shoulders; they laughed, clinging to Barker’s struggling figure; they went out and laughed with their backs against a tree. They laughed separately and in different corners. And then they came up to Barker with tears in their eyes, dropped their heads on his shoulder, and murmured exhaustedly:

“You blessed ass!”

“But,” said Stacy suddenly, “how did you manage to buy the claim?”

“Ah! that’s the most awful thing, boys. I’ve NEVER PAID FOR IT,” groaned Barker.

“But Carter sent us the bill of sale,” persisted Demorest, “or we shouldn’t have taken it.”

“I gave my promissory note at thirty days,” said Barker desperately, “and where’s the money to come from now? But,” he added wildly, as the men glanced at each other–“you said ‘taken it.’ Good heavens! you don’t mean to say that I’m TOO late–that you’ve–you’ve touched it?”

“I reckon that’s pretty much what we HAVE been doing,” drawled Demorest.

“It looks uncommonly like it,” drawled Stacy.

Barker glanced blankly from the one to the other. “Shall we pass our young friend in to see the show?” said Demorest to Stacy.

“Yes, if he’ll be perfectly quiet and not breathe on the glasses,” returned Stacy.

They each gravely took one of Barker’s hands and led him to the corner of the cabin. There, on an old flour barrel, stood a large tin prospecting pan, in which the partners also occasionally used to knead their bread. A dirty towel covered it. Demorest whisked it dexterously aside, and disclosed three large fragments of decomposed gold and quartz. Barker started back.

“Heft it!” said Demorest grimly.

Barker could scarcely lift the pan!

“Four thousand dollars’ weight if a penny!” said Stacy, in short staccato sentences. “In a pocket! Brought it out the second stroke of the pick! We’d been awfully blue after you left. Awfully blue, too, when that bill of sale came, for we thought you’d been wasting your money on US. Reckoned we oughtn’t to take it, but send it straight back to you. Messenger gone! Then Demorest reckoned as it was done it couldn’t be undone, and we ought to make just one ‘prospect’ on the claim, and strike a single stroke for you. And there it is. And there’s more on the hillside.”

“But it isn’t MINE! It isn’t YOURS! It’s Carter’s. I never had the money to pay for it–and I haven’t got it now.”

“But you gave the note–and it is not due for thirty days.”

A recollection flashed upon Barker. “Yes,” he said with thoughtful simplicity, “that’s what Kitty said.”

“Oh, Kitty said so,” said both partners, gravely.

“Yes,” stammered Barker, turning away with a heightened color, and, as I didn’t stay there to luncheon, I think I’d better be getting it ready.” He picked up the coffeepot and turned to the hearth as his two partners stepped beyond the door.

“Wasn’t it exactly like him?” said Demorest.

“Him all over,” said Stacy.

“And his worry over that note?” said Demorest.

“And ‘what Kitty said,'” said Stacy.

“Look here! I reckon that wasn’t ALL that Kitty said.”

“Of course not.”

“What luck!”