"Oh, that's fair enough, I reckon," said Deadoak. "Sure, fair enough. You can pick up that lode five minutes after ye get there, and match up them samples with the outcrop! That quartz sticks out o' the surface, Mac! If Hassayamp hadn't got ambitious to strike the rotten streak, he'd ha' been rich now." "Where's the nearest State Land office?" "Meteorite--that's the county seat, too," replied Deadoak, entirely unconscious that Sandy wanted that bit of information very, very badly. "Here's the mortgage--it ain't a mortgage, it's the other thing, the one that lets ye grab a place the minute payments ain't made, with no legal notice or nothin'. I had a cousin oncet that cleaned up a lot o' money over in California, usin' them things instead o' mortgages, so I used it too." Deadoak handed over a much thumbed but entirely legal deed of trust, Mackintavers inspected it carefully, then calmly jotted down the details as to the location of the defunct Hassayamp's property. "Aiblins, now," he said, rising, "I'll just run down and see Piute Tomkins' deed to that property--make sure it corresponds with this location, and is clear otherwise. Ye don't mind, o' course?" Deadoak looked up in weak protest, then yielded. "O' course not," he said with dignity. "Bein' a stranger, it's natural that ye should take precautions; but when ye've been here a spell, ye'll find out that----" "Ain't doubtin' you," said Sandy. "Not a mite! Now, you write out that note to suit yourself, but make it contingent upon the facts bein' as you say. And write out a conveyance o' that mortgage to me." Leaving the room, Mackintavers slowly descended the stairs toward the office, where Piute Tomkins and Haywire Smithers were engaged at their nightly cribbage. He paused on the landing, to chuckle to himself. "This mine is comin' cheap!" he reflected. "Volcanic bottle-glass--that's a good one! Aiblins, now, it's a gamble. Should I do it to-night or wait? If Deadoak had paid the least attention to the ruby silver--but he didn't! Not a mite. He was all afire over selling me that mortgage. I'll do it!" He went on down stairs. His whole scheme of action, which promised to work with the beautiful precision of a machine, demanded that he conclude the deal to-night and get Bill Hobbs off to Meteorite within the hour. Reaching the hotel doorway, he saw a bobbing light across the street in the newspaper office. His voice lifted in a bellow. "Bill Hobbs! You there?" "Want me?" came the reply. "Is Doc back? I been lookin' over this joint----" "Get over here in a hurry. I need you." Sandy turned to the office, where the two cribbage players were gazing up at him. He jerked his head slightly to Piute. "Can I see ye a moment in private?" "Certain, certain!" Piute rose with almost suspicious alacrity. He had been waiting and praying for just such an invitation. "Step into the back office, will you?"