But Blumpitty seemed to have no intention of enlightening her. “The property we’re goin’ to work this summer is the nineteen claims belongin’ to Blumpitty & Co., up on Glaysher Crick. They’re already located, an’ recorded, an’ surveyed, an’ a year’s assessment work done.” “How much have people put into this company of yours?” “Right smart,” he said cryptically. “What with my folks and my wife’s folks an’ our party—had to give _them_ a look in—only fair. But we’re goin’ to keep it among ourselves ’s much as possible. They ain’t any of us rich, not _now_, but”—he smiled a pale, pale smile all to himself, that seemed to say the future was beyond peradventure golden. “We all been workin’ people,” he said, grave again as ever. “But we’ve all saved a little somethin’.” “And you’re putting your savings into this?” “Every cent. We know $250 put into Blumpitty & Co.’s this spring’ll be a thousand ’fore long.” Instead of rejoicing, he sighed. “We’ve worked mighty hard, but we got our chance now.” He rested on the thought a moment. “They’s a fortune fur us up on Glaysher Crick—’nough fur us all.” His pale eyes seemed inadvertently to take in Mrs. Mar. That lady presented her most baffling surface. Absolutely nothing you could take hold of. Whether her aspect discouraged Mr. Blumpitty or not, certainly he seemed to have no more conversation. Mrs. Mar was obliged herself to break the silence. “So _you’re_ pretty well satisfied, anyhow.” “Ya-as,” he said, “if only I can keep out o’ the hands o’ the fy-nance-eers.” “What’s to prevent you?” “Oh, I guess it’s all right”—but his look was dubious. “I got a good many mouths to feed an’ a lot o’ developin’ to do.” “You mean you haven’t got enough capital.” She felt she had caught him. She was both disappointed and rather relieved. “I got _some_ capital, like I told you. An’ I could get plenty more if I wasn’t so afraid o’—” He paused, and seemed to envisage afresh some subtle and merciless foe. Mrs. Mar’s sharp eyes pecked him all over. If they had left a mark wherever they had been, Blumpitty would have presented no surface the size of a cent that was not pitted as with virulent smallpox. It might well have inspired confidence that he bore up as well as he did. “What is it you’re ‘afraid’ of?” demanded Mrs. Mar. “Losin’ personal control. But I’m all right s’ long ’s I keep hold o’ fifty-one per cent. o’ the stock.” “Why fifty-one per cent.?” She must understand this. “So’s to have the decidin’ vote. So’s I can do the directin’ myself. Watch it”—his pale eyes brooded—“an’ manage it, an’ make a reel success of it.” You got the impression that the scheme was bound up not only with his fortune but with his pride. “If I’m at the head o’ the thing I can see that the ’riginal investors don’t get froze out by the fy-nance-eers.” “Well, haven’t you kept fifty-one per cent. of the stock?” “Yes, I got more’n that _now_. Blumpitty & Co.’s only jest started.”