"No, nor anything else much," answered Bunker slightingly, "you can't even call it a stringer. It's a kind of broken seam, going flat into the hill--the Mexicans have been after it for years. Every time there's a rain the Professor will go up there and wash out a little gold in the gulch; but a Chinaman couldn't work it, and make it show a profit, if he had to dig out his ore. Of course it's all right, if you think gold is the ticket, but you wait till I show you this claim of mine--next to the famous Lost Burro Mine. "You know the Lost Burro--there she lays, right there--and they took out four million dollars in silver before the bonanza pinched out. At first they hauled their ore to the Gulf of California and shipped it to Swansea, Wales, and afterwards they built a kind of furnace and roasted their ore right here. It was refractory ore, mixed up with zinc and antimony; but with everything against them, and all kinds of bum management, she paid from the very first day. All full of water now, or I'd show you around; but some mine in its time, believe me. I wouldn't sell it for a million dollars." "Five hundred is my limit," observed Denver with a grin and Bunker slapped his leg. "Say," he said, "did I tell you that story about the deacon that got stung in a horse-trade? Well, this was back east, where I used to live, before I emigrated for the good of the country, and there was an old Methodist deacon that was as smart as they make 'em when it came to driving a bargain. He and the livery-stable keeper had made a few swaps and one was about as sharp as the other; until finally it got to be a matter of pride between 'em to cut each other's throats in some horse-trade They would talk and haggle, and drive away and come back, and jockey each other for months; but they always paid cash and if one of 'em got stuck he'd trade the horse off to some woman. Well, one day the livery-stable man drove past the deacon's house with a fine, free, high-stepping bay; and every afternoon for about a week he'd go by at a pretty good clip. The deacon he'd rush out and try to flag him, but the livery-stable keeper wouldn't stop; until finally the deacon's curiosity got the best of his judgment and he went out and laid in wait for him. "'How much do you want for that hoss?' he says when the livery-stable man came to a stop. "'Two hundred dollars,' says the livery-stable keeper. "'I'll give you fifty!' barks the deacon coming out to look him over and the livery-stable man tossed him the reins. "'The hoss is yours,' he says, and the deacon knowed he was stung. "Quick work," said Denver, "but I'm not like the deacon. I'm going to look around."