"'Twouldn't protect his mineral rights," shot in Sandy shrewdly. "Mineral rights belong to the state. Did he homestead the valley an' lease the mineral rights?" "I was comin' to that if ye give me time," said Deadoak plaintively. "Yep, he done so. Reg'lar five-year lease. Now, Hassayamp was Piute Tomkins' father-in-law by marriage, savvy? Well, when the shaft fell in and wiped out Hassayamp, Piute fell heir to the homestead, which same had been proved up all correct, and the mine." "Piute owns it now, then?" "He do. I'm comin' to that if ye give me time. But here's somethin' Piute don't know! A spell before Hassayamp got stove in, he come to town needin' money. Piute Tomkins, whose repytation for pinchin' the eagle into a sparrer ain't laid over by no one this side o' Phoenix, didn't have no faith in him; but I did. So Hassayamp comes to me, quiet, and gives me samples an' eloocidates how he'd got a road up to the mine and had rigged up a hand crusher and done other work there, and needed money to see her through. I give him five hundred an' took out a mortgage on the hull prop'ty." "Homestead and minerals?" queried Sandy casually. "Certain! I took in everything, you can bet!" Deadoak tapped his pocket. "You got the papers to prove it, of course?" "Comin' to that if ye give me time. Ding my dogs, ain't you got no patience? Well, me an' Piute don't hitch extra well. After Hassayamp cashed in that-a way, Piute always figgered on takin' over the place, but he never got time. I figgered on takin' it over, but never got around to it, rightly, so let her drift. Piute don't know yet that I got that mortgage, which same can be foreclosed any time a-tall, it bein' two year old. So I got her sewed up plumb legal, ye see." "I see." Sandy's shrewd eyes narrowed. If there was anyone in the Southwest who knew mining law down to the ground, it was Sandy Mackintavers. "What's in the mine?" "Ding my dogs! I'm comin' to that now. Hassayamp got gold there--struck a lode o' quartz that runs about twenty-five to the ton and promises to get richer quick. Here's the samples he brung me." Deadoak had now reached the apex of his elaborately conceived edifice. Producing a buckskin bag, he emptied it on the table. Specimens of very average gold quartz littered the table. Among them were several pieces of a reddish crystalline substance. "That don't look so bad," commented Sandy, fingering the quartz. He indicated the glassy red samples. "What's that stuff?" "Volcanic bottle-glass, I reckon--how it come with the samples I dunno, unless Hassayamp thought it was pretty. This here quartz, like you say, ain't bad; I'd say it was pretty dinged good, if ye ask me!" Sandy's eyes glinted at the red-glass specimens, and suspicion filled his heart. "Uh-huh," he grunted. "What's your proposition?"