"We're going out," informed George. "We've made the biggest strike you ever heard of--pounds a day--in another place, and we've bought tons of pay dirt for only $100, and we've sold the Golden Prize to the Ike crowd, and we're going to that other place just as quick as we can get there, and so are you, all of you, too!" "Sold that other property? What for?" chorused the men. "To pay for the new one. We hustled back on purpose. Just got in, and now all we have to do is weigh Ike's dust to make sure he isn't cheating us, and give him a bill of sale, and then we'll show you the other place. George and Harry and I have six hundred feet already, but there'll be more, and anyway we can all work," bubbled Terry. "How do you know what's in those other diggin's?" queried Sol. "Because we saw it! We washed out over ten dollars in two pans, and the German we bought from has _sacks full_!" proclaimed George. "Regular sacks full!" "He's the Lightning Express German," added Terry. "Harry knows him. He's there all by himself. He wants us to watch his diggin's while he takes his gold out and comes back. That's why he sold so cheap." "Great Cæsar!" murmured Harry. "Sacks full? Thought we'd bought all his sacks and he'd turned home?" "So he had, but he changed his mind. And he's struck it rich, rich!" "Where are those new diggin's? Have you got any of the dust with you that you say you washed out?" invited Sol. "They're over near Tarryall or Grab-all, in the South Park; only about fifty miles," answered Terry. "And here's our dust, too," proffered George. Sol opened the little sack and fingered the contents. "Gold!" he snorted. "Yes, fool's gold. That's nothing but iron pyrites--'tisn't worth a cent a ton! Don't you know the difference between gold and iron pyrites yet? Thought you were miners." "But it's from the German's diggin's," stammered Terry--for George appeared staggered out of his wits. "He said it was gold and he's got sacks full, right in his wagon." Sol laughed. "Sacks full, eh? Did anybody ever see gold dust by the gunny sack full? He's the same crazy German who was washing fool's gold from the Platte, I reckon--thought he had the real stuff and wouldn't believe otherwise. I met him, myself, when he was traveling on in for fear somebody'd rob him." "Oh!" groaned George. "We thought----" "Have you closed the sale of that property yonder? Haven't given a transfer yet, have you?" sharply demanded Terry's father. "N-no; we've got the money, though. We were going to weigh it. They're waiting--they're there, working." "Who?" "Ike and two other men. We found 'em there when we came back." "By ginger! Jumped it, did they?" ejaculated Sol. "Looks like we were just in time." He spurred on, Harry after. "You boys don't go a step farther," ordered Mr. Richards. "You come along with us. Lucky you didn't give any bill of sale, or we might have serious trouble." "But Harry told us we might sell," faltered Terry.