"Sold. But hurry up. We can't wait long here to sell a sluice. There's too much doing 'round the corner." Harry fished out three gold pieces--two twenties and a ten--and passed them over. "Better take it off this property quick or somebody else will," advised the man; and away he and his partner strode, for the strike in Bobtail Gulch just across a little divide south. "Lucky again!" jubilated Harry--who, Terry saw, had been smart. "Cost a lot of money, but we couldn't have made it much cheaper ourselves and we'd have been held up waiting for boards. You sit on it while I go for Jenny. We haul the whole thing at once." "Maybe we could have got it for nothing, after they'd left," proposed Terry, with an eye to the general grab-all as various persons swarmed over the abandoned claims. "It wasn't ours, was it?" retorted Harry. "But it is now." And he left at a fast limp. He returned with Jenny, harnessed, and they triumphantly dragged away the sluice, carrying also the scissors props on which it had rested. Its joints indeed threatened to part, but by picking their path they arrived with it intact at the Golden Prize. Their preacher neighbor greeted them with a wave of hand and came over to inspect. "Looks as though you were going right into business," he asserted. "I thought maybe you'd join the rush for Bobtail." "No, sir; we stick," assured Harry. "A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush." "Well, depends on the bird," answered the preacher. "Now, my bird's an old crow, I'm afraid, and if I could see a fat turkey in the bush I'd drop my crow pretty quick, like those other fellows." After dinner Harry rather ruefully examined his money belt. It was flat and limp. "Ten dollars left," he said. "And our dust, you know," reminded Terry. "We've the five dollars we washed out, and we can wash out more whenever we want it." Harry brightened. "That's right. We're rich. You can try panning again, this afternoon, and I'll go down to the grocery and lay in provisions and any other stuff we'll need, and then we can set up the sluice and pile up the gold. Get to have everything running before Father Richards and that George Stanton come in." "We can buy a claim for them, too," proposed Terry. "Or find one that's been left." "No crows," corrected Harry. "Turkeys only." Terry went at his panning with enthusiasm, bound to make a showing. Panning was slow, but it was rather exciting because there always was liable to be something yellow right under your eye, if you looked close enough. Panning was a one-man job; you did it all yourself. The preacher strolled over to watch. "How's the dirt paying now?" he queried. "Pretty good. I've found _some_ more," truthfully answered Terry. "About a dollar's worth, I guess." "A pinch, eh? How'd you like to take over my claim?" "Haven't any money yet. I mean, we won't have money till we get the sluice to going."