“What’s the price?” asked Mr. Baxter. “What’ll you give? Cash or trade? The best lots in the city. Can’t be beat.” “Will you take a sack of flour?” demanded Mr. Baxter. “Done!” snapped the man. “Flour’s better than money, friend. Where’s your flour?” “Where are your lots?” “Right yonder. I’ll show you.” The man promptly led them on. The lots proved to be somewhere in the midst of bare, sandy ground half a mile out from the business street. They looked forlorn and lonely, and Davy did not think much of them. Neither, evidently, did Mr. Baxter. One rude cabin stood there. “Cabin too?” queried Mr. Baxter. “Sure.” “How many lots?” “Five, my friend. Five of the finest lots in this bustling metropolis for your sack of flour. And remember this is Auraria; ’tain’t measley Denver. I reckon you could buy half of Denver for your flour and then you’d be cheated.” “All right. We’ll take you, won’t we, Davy?” responded Mr. Baxter, off-hand. “And we’ll move right in.” “Show me your flour and we’ll go to the land office and close the deal.” So they delivered to him the flour. At the land office the clerk asked their names. “This is the Jones’ flour, Dave,” reminded Mr. Baxter, eyeing Davy. “We’ll have that deed made out to Jasper Jones; he’s on the way. Meanwhile we’ll occupy the cabin.” That was certainly a good scheme――besides, as occurred to Dave, being very honest. Only it seemed rather a high price to pay for just five lots away from everywhere. The next time that Davy saw those lots they were quoted at a thousand dollars apiece! XIV DAVY SIGNS AS “EXTRA” One more day in Denver and Auraria satisfied Dave. He had seen about all there was to see, and had loafed long enough. He wanted to go to work. However, many other people wanted to go to work, too. But work was scarce and money scarcer, and provisions were tremendously high. Travellers were constantly coming back from the mountains with tales of woe and with empty pockets and sore feet. The great editor, Horace Greeley, had advised people to plant crops; then he had continued on west, for California. But the people were bent on getting rich all at once by mining instead of waiting for crops. This made the situation bad, especially for a boy. “You’d better take the stage back to-morrow, Dave,” counselled Mr. Baxter. “I’ll see you later.” “Guess I will, then,” said Dave. “What will you do, though?” For he did not like to desert his partner. “Oh,” laughed Mr. Baxter, “there’s a good living in hauling timber in from the foothills. Another fellow has offered to furnish the team and do the hauling if I’ll do the chopping. But that’s no life for a boy, Dave. You’ll learn more, freighting out of Leavenworth; and then you can go to school in the winter. See?” That sounded sensible. Thus the Hee-Haw outfit had divided: Billy Cody and Hi and Jim and Left-over mining; Mr. Baxter cutting timber, and Davy freighting across the plains. Such was life in the busy West.