"Now, I'll be glad to listen as long as you care to talk, but I don't think it will do any good." The other man's lips framed a faint smile.
"We'll see.

I wish to God I'd had your decision when I was your age, this story would be different, and easier to tell." He waited a moment, then settled to his self-appointed task.

"I was mining at the time up in the Mother Lode country of California, which was the frontier then, pretty much as this is now, only we had better things to eat.

I came from the East, or my people did, but I was ranch-raised, and loved the hills and woods and places where you don't talk much, so I went to prospecting because it took me out where the sun was bright and I could see the wild things at play.

I was one of the first men into a camp named Chandon--helped to build it, in fact, and got hold of some ground that looked real good.