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have been working in this district for years; and, sooner or later, one or the other of us will strike it and we’ll pile up our everlasting fortunes. I hate the Mormon-faced old dastard, he’s such a sanctified old hypocrite, but I always treat him white and if his diamond drill hits copper he’ll make the two of us rich. Anyhow, that’s what I’m waiting for.”

      Big Boy looked up at the striated hills which lay like a section of layer cake between the base of the mountains and the creek and then he shook his head.

      “Nope,” he said, “it don’t look good to me. The formation runs too regular. What you need for a big mineral deposit is some fissure veins, where the country has been busted up more.”

      “Oh, it don’t look like a mineral country at all, eh?” enquired Bunker Hill sarcastically. “Well, how do you figure it out then that they took out four million dollars’ worth of silver from that little hill right up the creek?”

      “Don’t know,” answered Big Boy, “but you couldn’t work it now, with silver down to fifty-two cents. It’s copper that’s the high card now.”

      “Yes, and look what happened to copper when the war broke out?” cried Bunker Hill derisively, “it went down to eleven cents. But is it down to eleven now? Well, not so you’d notice it–thirty-one would be more like it–and all on account of the metal trust. They smashed copper down, then bought it all up, and now they’re boosting the price. Well, they’ll do the same with silver.”

      “Aw, you’re crazy,” came back Big Boy, “they need copper to make munitions to sell to those nations over in Europe; but what can you make out of silver?”

      “Oh, nothing,” jeered Bunker, “but I’ll tell you what you can do–you can use it to pay for your copper! You hadn’t figured that out, now had you? Well, here now, let me tell you a few things. These people that are running the metal-buying trust are smart, see–they look way ahead. They know that after we’ve grabbed all the gold away from Europe those nations will have to have some other metal to stand behind their money–and that metal is going to be silver. The big operators up in Tonopah ain’t selling their silver now, they’re storing it away in vaults, because they know in a little while all the nations in the world are going to be bidding for silver. And say, do you see that line of hills? There’s silver enough buried underneath them to pay the national debt of the world.”

      He paused and nodded his head impressively and Big Boy broke into a grin.

      “Say,” he said, “you must have some claim for sale, like an old feller I met over in New Mex.

      “‘W’y, young man,’ he says when I wouldn’t bite, ‘you’re passing up the United States Mint. If you had Niagara Falls to furnish the power, and all hell to run the blast furnace, and the whole State of Texas for a dump, you couldn’t extract the copper from that property inside of a million years. It’s big, I’m telling you, it’s big!’ And all he wanted for his claim was a thousand dollars, down.”

      “Aw, you make me tired,” confessed Bunker Hill frankly, now that he saw his sale gone glimmering, “I see you’re never going to get very far. You’ll tramp back to Globe and blow in your money and go back to polishing a drill. W’y, a young man like you, if he had any ambition, could buy one of these claims for little or nothing and maybe make a fortune. I’ll tell you what I’ll do–you stay around here a while and look at some of my claims; and if you see something you like─”

      “Nope,” said Big Boy, “you can’t work me now–you lost your horse-shoe this morning. I was a hobo then and you told me to go to hell, but now when you see I’ve got eight hundred dollars you’re trying to bunco me out of it. I know who you are, I’ve heard the boys tell about you–you’re one of these blue-bellied Yankees that try to make a living swapping jack-knives. You got your name from that Bunker Hill monument and they shortened it down to Bunk. Well, you lose–that’s all I’ll say; I wouldn’t buy your claims if they showed twenty dollar gold pieces, with everything on ’em but the eagle-tail. And the formation is no good here, anyhow.”

      “Oh, it ain’t, hey?” came back Bunk thrusting out his jaw belligerently, “well take a look up at that cliff. That Apache Leap is solid porphyry─”

      “Apache Leap!” broke in Big Boy suddenly sitting erect and looking all around, “by grab, is this the place?”

      “This is the place,” replied Old Bunk wagging his head and smiling wisely, “and that cap is solid porphyry.”

      “Gee, boys!” exclaimed Big Boy getting up on his feet, “say, is that where they killed all those Indians?”

      “The very place,” returned Bunker Hill proudly, “you can find their skeletons there to this day.”

      “Well, for cripe’s sake,” murmured Big Boy at last and looked up at the cliff again.

      “Some jump-off,” observed Bunker, but Big Boy did not hear him–he was looking up at the sun.

      “Say,” he said, “when the sun rises in the morning how far out does that shadow come?”

      “What shadow?” demanded Bunker Hill. “Oh, of Apache Leap? It goes way out west of town.”

      “And does it throw its shadow on these hills where your claims are? Well, old-timer, I’ll just take a look at them.”

      He climbed out purposefully and began to put on his shoes and Old Bunk squinted at him curiously. There was something going on that he did not know about–some connection between the Leap and his mines; he waited, and the secret popped out.

      “Say,” said Big Boy after a long minute of silence, “do you believe in fortune-tellers?”

      “Sure thing!” spoke up Bunker, suddenly taking a deep breath and swallowing his Adam’s apple solemnly, “I believe in them phenomena implicitly. And, as I was about to say, you can have any claim I’ve got for eight hundred dollars–cash.”

      CHAPTER V

       MOTHER TRIGEDGO

       Table of Contents

      “Well, I’ll tell you,” confided Big Boy, moving closer to Old Bunk and lowering his voice mysteriously, “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but there’s something to that stuff. Maybe we don’t understand it, and of course there’s a lot of fakes, but I got this from Mother Trigedgo. She’s that Cornish seeress, that predicted the big cave in the stope of the Last Chance mine, and now I know she’s good. She tells fortunes by cards and by pouring water in your hand and going into a trance. Then she looks into the water and sees a kind of vision of all that is going to happen. Well, here’s what she said for me–and she wrote it down on a paper.

      “‘You will soon make a journey to the west and there, in the shadow of a place of death, you will find two treasures, one of silver and the other of gold. Choose well between the two and─”

      “By grab, that’s right, boy!” exclaimed Old Bunk enthusiastically, “she described this place down to a hickey. You came west from Globe and when you went by here the shadow was still on those hills; and as for a place of death, Apache Leap got its name from the Indians that jumped over that cliff. Say, you could hunt all over Arizona and not find another place that came within a mile of it!”

      “That’s right,” mused Big Boy, “but I was thinking all the time that that place of death would be a graveyard.”

      “Sure, but how could a graveyard cast a shadow–they’re always on level ground. No, I’m telling you, boy, that there cliff is the place–lemme tell you how it got its name. A long time ago when the Indians were bad they had a soldiers’ post right here where this town stands, and they kept a lookout up on the Picket Post butte, where they could heliograph clear down to Tucson. Well, every time a bunch of Indians would go down out of the hills to raid some

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