Myrtle had now really caught the spirit of the West. She was actually planning on the spending of the yet undelivered profits of the mine, on a home in Goodsprings. Everyone had told her that we were on the high road to a big success. Our home would be on the “bench” near Charley Byram’s place, where we could be sure of getting water. Bachelor Charley Byram, I believe, had the only private well, with windmill, in Goodsprings. He was the son of August Byram, former partner of Green Campbell, in the sensationally rich Horn Silver mine at Frisco, Utah. Born in Atchison, Kansas, Charley was now — in Nevada and Los Angeles, where he lived with his mother and sister — -a typical Westerner, seemingly without the proper appreciation of a native son for his old home town. He said to me, “The last time I was back in Atchison, two years ago, I could have fired a shotgun down the full length of Commercial street without hitting a soul.” To one who knows the unobstructed and flat straightness of Commercial street, it seemed as if he should have been able to do better than that. Charley would have to up his sights and show marksmanship if he were to hit pay ore on his claims up in the porphyry zone. I believe he missed in this. Myrtle said she wanted flowers, lots of roses, and green grass—a show spot, sort of oasis in the desert as it were. Something that everybody else didn’t have. Well, I too had been caught by the spell. Why not let her have them? Contingent, however, on one little reservation. Only if, and when, the lead-zinc mine should give up its treasure. We couldn’t spend all that money living a prosaic life. Before leaving Goodsprings for California, Myrtle said to me, “Let’s come back this way. I’d love it. And since you think you are so good at discovering zinc overlooked by your partner, maybe YOU could, after all, find gold in ‘them thar hills’.”