"Not on your life!" broke in Denver, "I don't sell to anybody. But say, but what did they think of my mine?"
"Think!" exclaimed Bunker, "they stopped thinking right here, when I showed 'em that big vein of copper! They went crazy, just like lunatics; because it ain't often, I'm telling you, that you find sixty-per-cent copper on the surface."
"Not in a fissure vein--no," agreed Denver emphatically, "I wouldn't sell out for a million. Did those promoters take away any samples?"
"Well, yes; a few," responded Bunker apologetically, "I didn't think you'd object."
"Why, of course not," answered Denver, "it'll advertise the district and bring in some outside people. And now that I've got another stake I'm going to sack my ore and make a trial shipment to the smelter. But you bet your boots, after what Murray put over on me, I'm going to have some assaying done first."
"Yes, and keep some samples," advised Bunker wisely. "Keep a sample out of every bag."
"I'll just mix that ore up," said Denver cautiously, "and cut it down, the way they do at the mill. Throw out every tenth shovel and mix 'em up again and then cut the pile down smaller until you've got a control, like the ore brokers take at the smelter. And then I'll send a sample to the assayer--say, there's Drusilla over there, trying to call you."
"She's trying to call you," answered Bunker Hill shortly and went on into the store.
"Well, be sure and order that powder," shouted Denver after him. "And say, I'll want the rest of those ore-sacks."
"All right," replied Bunker and Denver turned to the house where Drusilla was waiting on the porch.
"Did you hear the news?" she asked dancing ecstatically to and fro; as if she were a Delilah, leading the Philistine maidens in the "Spring Song," and he were another Samson. "I'm expecting to go East now, soon."
"Good!" exclaimed Denver. "Well, I won't see you much then--I'm going to work in the mine."
"Yes, isn't it grand?" she cried. "Everything is coming out fine--but you must come down to dinner to-night. I'm going to sing, just for you."
"I'll be there," smiled Denver, and then he stopped. "But let's not make it to-night," he said, "I'm dead on my feet for sleep."
"Well, sleep then," she laughed, "and get rested from your contest--I'm awfully glad you won. And then----"