"Well, don't step on them," warned Harry. "We can eat them. But how is he 'busted'?" "It isn't his claim," answered Terry. "That is, maybe he doesn't own it at all. Some men he was arguing with this morning say it's theirs. So nobody'll work there till things are settled up. And Pat's as mad as a hornet. They say all the dust in his oyster-can is theirs, too, because he got it out of that hole." "Whew!" mused Harry. "The Extra Limited & Co. seem to be more limited than ever. And that's hard luck for Pat." "What'll we all do, then?" queried George, aghast. "Light out and go down to Denver?" "Not by a jugful!" And Harry swung the two pies. "We're here to stick. I reckon three able-bodied men and a dog and a nice yellow mule can earn a living somehow." "I'll stay," asserted Terry. "So will I," asserted George. "I'll stay. I'll help Harry cook," proffered Virgie. Harry picked her up and kissed her. "No, you can't, Virgie. You go to the folks and tell them we're well and hustling and never say die, and pretty soon we'll be millionaires. But you see you can't stay with us, because we're liable to be traveling 'round, looking for the gold, and we may have to sleep in the rain, and sometimes there won't be much to cook." Virgie wept. She was only a little girl, you know. "But I want a mine," she said. "Don't I get any mine?" "Of course you do," assured Harry. "You can have the mine George was working on. It's named the True Blue. George doesn't want it. And it's a real mine--see those holes?" "Sure. You can have it, for all of me." Virgie's tears dried instantly. "All right. I'll dig in it." And off she hurried, with George's pan, in a moment to be occupied poking into the dirt with a stick. "Let's hold a council, boys," proposed Harry. "Pat was my best customer, for pies, and I don't think I'll bother any more with this cooking business. I reckon we'll have to make a tour of the diggin's and offer the services of three men and a mule. Jenny'll need to help, if she expects to eat. There's not much free grazing left around these claims." While they were discussing ways and means, Virgie toiled in from her "mine," carrying the empty pan. "I sha'n't dig any more," she announced. "I'm tired." "What have you got in your hand, Virgie?" "A piece of my mine," and Virgie extended her prize. "I'm going to take a piece of my mine down to show papa." "That's a good idea," approved Harry. "Take him a sample, so as to prove to him." "Is it gold?" invited Virgie. "I shouldn't wonder," said Harry, kindly. "It looks just like the pocket-piece I threw at Ike. Wait. I'll see." But although he searched among the stones and bushes at the place where the pocket-piece might have bounded from Ike's back, he did not come across it, and neither did Terry nor George. "It was the same kind of quartz, though," he insisted. "Where did you find your piece, Virgie?"