Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his astonishment. “Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any gold in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and there, too. Well!” “Looky, Boy!” Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of nuggets the size of a cooked Lima bean. “Here's the real stuff for yuh. “It's yours, too--unless--did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, do yuh know?” “They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned up to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got any better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But seein' the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according to law, looks to me like--” “Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh.” Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the world many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the gold into a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for his tests. It was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the gold Nelson had panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with crude devices. A little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted to, not counting the nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. “Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway,” Bud said, leaning back and regarding the heap with eyes shining. “I helped him find it, and I kinda feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?” “Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've got so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good money.” “Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud have 'em for a minute.” Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with the other fist. “No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!” he remonstrated vehemently, until Bud whooped with laughter. “All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go hog-wild over it.” Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the baking-powder cans.