"But this nugget means a lot of money. Between six and seven
thousand dollars."

"You won't need advice how to spend it, even if it was a million. ...
Tell me, Jim, how'd you strike it?"

"Funny about that," replied Cleve. "Things were poor for several
days. Dug off branches into my claim. One grew to be a deep hole in
gravel, hard to dig. My claim was once the bed of a stream, full of
rocks that the water had rolled down once. This hole sort of haunted
me. I'd leave it when my back got so sore I couldn't bend, but
always I'd return. I'd say there wasn't a darned grain of gold in
that gravel; then like a fool I'd go back and dig for all I was
worth. No chance of finding blue dirt down there! But I kept on. And
to-day when my pick hit what felt like a soft rock--I looked and saw
the gleam of gold! ... You ought to have seen me claw out that
nugget! I whooped and brought everybody around. The rest was a
parade. ... Now I'm embarrassed by riches. What to do with it?"

"Wal, go back to Montana an' make thet fool girl sick," suggested
one of the men who had heard Jim's fictitious story of himself.

"Dug or stole is all the same!" boomed the imperturbable Gulden.

Kells turned white with rage, and Cleve swept a swift and shrewd
glance at the giant.

"Sure, that's my idea," declared Cleve. "I'll divide as--as we
planned."