“Suh,” said the Colonel, “Yo’ ovehpoweh me with yo’r confidence. I have been workin’ away so long on Gray Rocks, suh, that I can’t blame my friends if they should lose heart. But, suh, somethin’ keeps a tellin’ me that my effo’ts will yet be rewarded. Yo’ honor me by sharin’ my confidence in the outcome of Gray Rocks; yo’ do, indeed, suh. There’s good blood, Mr. Gilder, cou’sin’ through yo’r veins, and there’s a crown awaitin’ yo’ when once we’ve reached the 500 foot level; yes, suh. I may neveh have mentioned it to yo’, but I once told yo’r father that if he would stay by Gray Rocks, it would make him a millionaire. I have forgotten whether I ever made the obse’vation to yo’ or not, but I wish to assure yo’ at this time, Mr. Gilder, in the presence of Louise, suh, that yo’r confidence in Gray Rocks is well-founded, and she will make yo’ richer than all the possessions left yo’ by yo’r worthy father; yes, suh, much richer.” [185] Louise dried her tears and soon was cheerful as a mountain thrush that had never known a sorrow. The old Colonel declared he had never felt better in his life, and that work should be commenced early the following morning. On his way back to the hotel, Vance called at the office of the Gold Bluff Prospector. “Where is your typo?” asked Vance in the course of the conversation. “Haven’t got any,” replied the proprietor, “he left this morning on the stage. We’ll not be able to get out an issue of the paper this week unless we find someone that can set type. Say,” said he, “why can’t I sell my printing office to you?” “I’m not able to buy,” replied Vance. “Well, I’ll lease it to you.” “On what terms,” asked Vance. “I’d lease it to you for one year for half its earnings,” replied the good-natured proprietor, who never was known to have enough energy to walk across the street to solicit an advertisement. “What will it earn in a year?” “Oh, twelve or fifteen hundred dollars—subscriptions and advertisements. I own the building. I call this the reception and editorial room; the other is the composing room, while the one back of where we are sitting is where the printer usually sleeps.” In Vance’s college days, he had been one of the trio who had edited a college paper, set their own type, made up their own forms and circulated the issue after night, contenting themselves, for a compensation, with the general wonderment of their fellow-students as to who were the publishers. He felt that he was capable of acting as type-setter, as well as writing editorials, on the Gold Bluff Prospector. He examined the room designated as the sleeping apartment of the printer, and found it comfortable, yet very plain. He told the proprietor he thought very favorably of his proposition, and believed [186] he would accept it. The printing was done on an old-fashioned hand press, which would require the assistance of a boy for a couple of hours once a week. 9194