The Long Chance | Page 6

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.
The third reason is that I believe this is just a phenomenally rich pocket
and that I have about cleaned it out. The fourth reason is that another
sandstorm will probably cover the Baby Mine before long, and the fifth
reason is: 'What's the use going desert-ratting until your money's all
gone!'"
"Well, I'll see that I get my share of that plunder" snapped the unhappy
tenderfoot. "Of course, right now, it may seem perfectly proper from
your point of view to take advantage of certain adventitious
circumstances, but--"
"Yes, the humble little jackass is really an adventitious circumstance.
By jingo, that hadn't occurred to me at all. I guess you're right, Boston.
I'll have to give you half the plunder. Now that we've settled that point,

let's divide the adventitious circumstances. I have four of them and I'll
sell you two for your half of the gold. No? Price too high? All right! I'll
agree to freight your share in for you, only I'm afraid transportation
rates are so high in the desert that the freight will about eat up all the
profit. I'm afraid that the best I can do for you is to give you your half
and let you carry it yourself. If you want to tote it out on your back,
Boston, help yourself. No! Well, well!"
"We'll not discuss the matter further, if you please. At another time and
place, perhaps--"
"Perhaps? Perhaps! Well, I'm stripping down our food supply to the
bare necessities in order to make room for this gold, and the water is
pretty low. If we don't strike water at Chuckwalla Tanks there'll be real
eloquence to that word 'perhaps.' However, that discussion can wait.
Everything appears to be propitious for an immediate start, so let's
defer the argument and _vamoose._ Giddap, you hairy little desert birds.
Crack along out o' this."
But following the dictates of his nature, when Fortune smiled and bade
him "take a chance," the Desert Rat had already delayed too long his
departure from the Baby Mine. The supply of water still left in the kegs
was so meager that with any other man the situation would have given
rise to grave concern. As it was, however, all that troubled the Desert
Rat was what he was going to do with the man from Boston when that
inconsistent and avaricious individual should "peter out." More than
once, in his pursuit of the rainbow, the Desert Rat had known what it
was to travel until he couldn't travel another yard; then to jump up and
travel ten miles more--to water! He did not know the extent of his own
strength, but whatever might be its limitations he knew that the
Cahuilla was good for an equal demonstration of endurance. But the
man from Boston! He was quickly read. The Desert Rat gave him until
midnight that night, but he wilted at ten o'clock.
"A sore heel, a mean soul and no spunk have killed more men than
whisky" the Desert Rat commented whimsically,