"Aw, put a price on it," burst out Wunpost bluffly, "you know you haven't got any principles. You're out for the dough, the same as the rest of us, and you figure you'll make more by holding on. But I'm here to tell you that I'm getting too slick for you and you might as well quit while you're lucky." "Not for any money," responded Judson Eells solemnly, "I am in this as a matter of principle." "Ahhr, principle!" scoffed Wunpost. "You're the crookedest dog that ever drew up a contract--and then talk to me about _principle_! Why don't you say what you mean and call it your system--like they use trying to break the roulette wheel? But I'm telling you your system is played out. I'll never locate another claim as long as I live, unless I'm released from that contract; so where do you figure on any more Willie Meenas? All you'll get will be Stinging Lizards." He burst out into taunting laughter but Judson Eells sat dumb, his heavy lower lip drawn up grimly. "That's all right," he said at last, "I have reason to believe that you have located a very rich mine--and the only way you personally can ever get a dollar out of it, is to come through and give me half!" "The only way, eh?" jeered Wunpost, "well, where did I get the price to buy that swell pair of mules? Did I give you one half, or even a smell? Not much--and I got this, besides." He slapped a wad of bills that he drew from his pocket, and Eells knew they were a part of his payment--the purchase price of the salted Stinging Lizard--but he only looked them over and scowled. "Nothing doing, eh?" observed Wunpost rising up to go, "you won't sell that contract for no price. Going to follow me up, eh, and find this hidden treasure, and skin me out of it, too? Well, hop to it, Mr. Eells, and after you've got a bellyful perhaps you'll listen to reason. You got stung good and plenty when you bought the Stinging Lizard and I figure I'm pretty well heeled. Got two new mules, beside my other animals, and an eight hundred dollar watch-dog to keep me company; and I'm going to come back inside of a month with my mules loaded down with gold. Do you reckon your pet rabbit, Mr. Phillip F. Flappum, can make me come through with any part of it? Well, I consulted a lawyer before I left Los Angeles and he said--decidedly not! Your contract calls for claims, wherever located, but I haven't got any claim. This ore that I bring in may be dug from some claim, and then again it may be high-graded from some mine; but you've got to find that claim and prove that it exists before you can call for a cent. You've got to prove, by grab, where I got that gold, before you can claim that it's yours--and that's something you never can do. I'm going to say I _stole_ it and if you sue for any part of it you make yourself out a thief!"