“I should say you should abandon it” the other exulted. “You'd have a fine time trying to get me away from this ledge now. Why, there's millions in it, and I suggest we stake it out at once. Let's get busy.” He jumped up eagerly--from force of habit dusting the seat of his riding breeches--and turned peremptorily to the mozo. “Get those packs off, Joe, or Jim or whatever your name is, and be quick--” “You forget, old man,” interjected the Desert Rat gently. “He doesn't speak English, and if he did he wouldn't obey you. You see,” he added naively, “I've told him not to.” “Oh, well, I didn't mean anything. Don't be so touchy. Let's get busy, for heaven's sake, and stake this claim.” The Desert Rat stretched himself with feline grace. “I'm sorry” he replied with his tantalizing good-natured smile, “to be forced to object to your use of the plural pronoun in conjunction with that certain tract, piece and parcel of land known and described as the Baby Mine claim. The fact of the matter is, I have already staked it. You see, I was thinking of the little one that will be waiting for me in San Berdoo when I get back. See the point? My baby--Baby Mine--rather a neat play on words, don't you think?” “Do you mean to say that I'm not in on this find?” demanded the man from Boston. “Your penetration is remarkable. I do.” “But such a course is outrageous. It's opposed--” “Please do not argue with me. I found it. Naturally I claim it. I could quote you verbatim the section of the mining law under which I am entitled to maintain this high-handed--er--outrage; but why indulge in such a dry subject? I found this claim, and since I don't feel generously disposed this morning, I'm going to keep it.” “But I'm in the party with you. It seems to me that common justice--” “For goodness' sake, Boston, don't throw up to me the sins of my past. Of course you're in my party. That's my misfortune, not my fault. I observed this little backbone of quartz and asked you to walk over here with me for a look at it. You wouldn't come. You said your foot hurt you. So I came alone. If you had been with me at the time, now, of course that would have been different. But--” “But I--well, in a measure--why, we're out here together, sort of partners as it were, and--” “The Lord forgive you, Boston. My partner! You never were and never could be. I'm particular in the matter of partners. All Desert Rats in good standing are. You're the last man on earth I'd have for my partner. A partner shares the expenses of a trip and bears the hardships without letting out a roar every half mile. A partner _sticks,_ Boston. He shares his grub and his money and his last drop of water, and when that's gone he'll die with you like a gentleman. That's what a partner does, but you wouldn't do it.” “Well, I'm entitled to a half interest and I'll see that I get it,” shrilled the other furiously. “I'll sue you--” “How about the Indian?” “Why, he--he's--”