Willard had to find something to say, or he would have choked with spleen. "Evidently the inrush of water did not injure the mine?" he blurted out; but, for the life of him, he could not conceal the envy in his voice. "Did good, really," chortled MacGonigal. "We had to drive a new adit, an' that cleared away enough rock ter give us elbow-room. The fust intake was up thar," and he pointed to that part of the Gulch where Power had once wrought with death on a long-vanished ledge. "Now we go in about a hundred feet west of this yer veranda, an' the haulin' is easier." "Mr. Power and you have created a marvelous property here," said Willard after a long pause. "Not me," said MacGonigal quickly. "I helped Derry with my wad; but he did all the thinkin', an' it's like a fresh chapter outer a fairy tale when I wake up every fine mornin' an' remember that my third share is bringin' me in close on five hundred dollars a day." "So Power's interest is worth three hundred thousand dollars a year?" "More'n that, I reckon. The output keeps on pilin' up, an' Derry's horses 'll add a tidy bit to his bank balance this year." "His horses?" "Yep. Hain't you heerd? One-thumb Jake is manager of the plug department. Nigh on fifty two-year-olds 'll be sold this fall at two hundred dollars an' more a throw. I suspicioned Derry was goin' crazy when he bought up so many mares; but I allow he has the bulge on me now. An' Jake! Dang me if he didn't show up at a dance t'other evenin' with a silver fringe on his chaps!" Willard turned reluctantly into the darkened room, and, by some mischance, when his eyes had recovered from the external glare, the first object they dwelt on was a framed pencil sketch of the Dolores homestead as he had last seen it--a dreary, ramshackle place, arid and poverty-stricken. In the corner was written, "Nancy," and a date. "The ways of fortune are mysterious," he said, making shift to utter the words calmly. "I endured ten long years of financial loss in the house which my daughter has shown there. She used to know Mr. Power, and gave the drawing to him, I suppose." "Derry thinks a heap of that picter," commented MacGonigal. "I wonder why?" "He never tole me." Willard laughed disagreeably. He had not forgotten Mac's peculiarities, one of which used to be blank ignorance concerning any subject on which he did not wish to be drawn. "By the way," he said, "why did you give the new mine such a queer name--El Preço--I guess you know it means, 'The Price'? Why was it called that?" "It was jest a notion of Derry's." "Rather odd, wasn't it?" "Derry's mostly odd, size him up anyways you hev' a mind ter." "I could have understood it better had he christened the place, 'The Bargain.' He shook me up good and hard when he grabbed Dolores for five thousand dollars." "He sure had his wits about him, had Derry," said MacGonigal admiringly. "And he has gone now to New York, you tell me," went on Willard. "East, I said."