“No; although he often thought he was. His riches never came near enough to capture.” “That’s it, you see. But you take an old miner who’s made his fortunes, and lost ’em through havin’ salted mines worked off on him,--if he ain’t the scariest bird ever seen! Talk about saltin’ a bird’s tail! Why, he wouldn’t trust his own twin brother!” “Well, there’s no danger of ours being salted.” “No; ’cause ’twasn’t thought to be a mine. I’ve seen some queer tricks played in that line. Once I knew a man who went to look at a mine. He saw the samples taken from all over the mine, put ’em in canvas bags himself, and never took his eyes off these bags till they was sealed up with his private seal. Just as the rest of the party was gettin’ into the stage to leave, the man who was a-thinkin’ of buyin’ the mine had a kind of a feelin’ that he’d ben fooled. He couldn’t explain it nohow, but he just had that feelin’. So, he wouldn’t get on that stage, but he went all over the mine a second time and took another set of samples. Well, the assays told the story. The first set went more’n a hundred dollars to the ton, and the last set went less ’n a dollar.” “How did they break the seals?” “They didn’t break ’em. They salted the bags after he sealed ’em by squeezin’ a quill toothpick through the canvas and blowin’ gold-dust into ’em. I don’t wonder that----” Mundon was interrupted by a pounding on the gates. “I’ll go,” said Ben. When he had unfastened the gates, two men walked into the yard. The first handed Ben a paper. “What does this mean?” Ben wonderingly asked. He did not at first comprehend the meaning of the proceeding, but his eye caught the word “injunction,” and he knew that meant “stop.” “It’s an injunction served upon you,” the man replied. “Are you an officer?” “I am.” “What ground--” Ben stopped, for he felt his voice tremble. “It’s to compel you to stop working another man’s property.” “But I bought the right to work it--from the owner!” Ben cried. “That he did,” Mundon spoke up stoutly, “and I signed as a witness.” “Where is the owner? Where is old Madge? I’ve got his signature to the paper! He can’t go back on that!” the boy exclaimed. “He’s done this from spite, because I refused to take him into partnership!” “Don’t get excited,” the officer said. “Mr. Madge has nothing to do with this.” There was an angry light in Ben’s eyes. “Well, who has, then?” he defiantly inquired. “I have,” the other man replied. He had not spoken before, and he seemed to enjoy the boy’s distress. He was a small man, shabbily dressed, and there was nothing about his appearance to indicate that he could be possessed of wealth. He paused after those two words and appeared to relish prolonging the suspense. Ben turned upon him. “What have you got to do with it?” he asked. “I happen to be the owner of the land--and improvements.”