"Yes, it's rich--very rich. There's a comfortable fortune lying
exposed on the surface. By the way, I think I shall pay you a liberal
fee for your lost time and abandon that prospect I was taking you in to
see. Compared with this, it's not worth considering."

"I should say you should abandon it" the other exulted. "You'd have a
fine time trying to get me away from this ledge now. Why, there's
millions in it, and I suggest we stake it out at once. Let's get busy."

He jumped up eagerly--from force of habit dusting the seat of his
riding breeches--and turned peremptorily to the mozo.

"Get those packs off, Joe, or Jim or whatever your name is, and be
quick--"

"You forget, old man," interjected the Desert Rat gently. "He doesn't
speak English, and if he did he wouldn't obey you. You see," he added
naively, "I've told him not to."

"Oh, well, I didn't mean anything. Don't be so touchy. Let's get busy,
for heaven's sake, and stake this claim."

The Desert Rat stretched himself with feline grace. "I'm sorry" he
replied with his tantalizing good-natured smile, "to be forced to
object to your use of the plural pronoun in conjunction with that
certain tract, piece and parcel of land known and described as the Baby
Mine claim. The fact of the matter is, I have already staked it. You
see, I was thinking of the little one that will be waiting for me in
San Berdoo when I get back. See the point? My baby--Baby Mine--rather a