honeycombed rock with its streaks and wens of dull virgin gold had been
cleaned up. The Desert Rat used the last of his dynamite in a vain
endeavor to unearth another "kidney," and finally decided to call it
quits.

"They took eighty-two thousand dollars out of one little carload of ore
in the Delhi mine in Nevada county" he announced, "but the Baby Mine
makes that record look amateurish. It's the richest strike I have ever
heard of, with the exception, possibly, of the big strike at Antelope
Peak. They took out nearly three hundred thousand there in less than
three days, just scratching it out of stringers and crevices with their
jack-knives. Boston, my dear man, I have more than three hundred pounds
of gold with, as I said before, some quartz, but not enough to bother.
At twelve ounces to the pound, twenty dollars to the ounce, I'm going
back to San Bernardino and buy a bath, a new suit of store clothes and
a fifty-dollar baby carriage for my expected heir. With my dear little
wife and the baby and all this _oro,_ I'll manage to be quite
happy.

"However, just to show you that there isn't a mean bone in my body, I'm
going to withdraw my claim to the Baby Mine. My mozo and I are about to
load this magnificent bunch of untainted wealth into the kyacks, and
hit for civilization, and while we're getting ready to break camp you
run out and destroy my location notices. I leave the whole works to
you. I do this for a number of reasons--the first being that you will
thus be induced to return to this section of California. Not knowing
the country, you will doubtless perish, and thus from the placid bosom
of society a thorn will be removed. Secondly, if you should survive
long enough to get in, you could never find your way out without me for
a guide--and it wouldn't be safe to hire this Indian. He dislikes you.