“You mean you want to buy lots, eh?” Smoke rattled on swiftly. “There's some dandy building sites here. But, you see, we can't sell yet. We haven't had the town surveyed. Come around next week, Wild Water, and for peace and quietness, I'll show you something swell, if you're anxious to live over here. Next week, sure, it will be surveyed. Good-by. Sorry I can't ask you inside, but Shorty--well, you know him. He's peculiar. He says he came over for peace and quietness, and he's asleep now. I wouldn't wake him for the world.” As Smoke talked he shook their hands warmly in farewell. Still talking and shaking their hands, he stepped inside and closed the door. They looked at each other and nodded significantly. “See the knees of his pants?” Saltman whispered hoarsely. “Sure. An' his shoulders. He's been bumpin' an' crawlin' around in a shaft.” As Wild Water talked, his eyes wandered up the snow-covered ravine until they were halted by something that brought a whistle to his lips. “Just cast your eyes up there, Bill. See where I'm pointing? If that ain't a prospect-hole! An' follow it out to both sides--you can see where they tramped in the snow. If it ain't rim-rock on both sides I don't know what rim-rock is. It's a fissure vein, all right.” “An' look at the size of it!” Saltman cried. “They've got something here, you bet.” “An' run your eyes down the slide there--see them bluffs standin' out an' slopin' in. The whole slide's in the mouth of the vein as well.” “And just keep a-lookin' on, out on the ice there, on the trail,” Saltman directed. “Looks like most of Dawson, don't it?” Wild Water took one glance and saw the trail black with men clear to the far Dawson bank, down which the same unbroken string of men was pouring. “Well, I'm goin' to get a look-in at that prospect-hole before they get here,” he said, turning and starting swiftly up the ravine. But the cabin door opened, and the two occupants stepped out. “Hey!” Smoke called. “Where are you going?” “To pick out a lot,” Wild Water called back. “Look at the river. All Dawson's stampeding to buy lots, an' we're going to beat 'em to it for the choice. That's right, ain't it, Bill?” “Sure thing,” Saltman corroborated. “This has the makin's of a Jim-dandy suburb, an' it sure looks like it'll be some popular.” “Well, we're not selling lots over in that section where you're heading,” Smoke answered. “Over to the right there, and back on top of the bluffs are the lots. This section, running from the river and over the tops, is reserved. So come on back.” “That's the spot we've gone and selected,” Saltman argued. “But there's nothing doing, I tell you,” Smoke said sharply. “Any objections to our strolling, then?” Saltman persisted. “Decidedly. Your strolling is getting monotonous. Come on back out of that.” “I just reckon we'll stroll anyways,” Saltman replied stubbornly. “Come on, Wild Water.” “I warn you, you are trespassing,” was Smoke's final word.