"Want any prunes to-night, Cash ?" Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none cooked.

He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate.
"We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away," he observed, "and have it assayed.

And we won't let out anything about it, Bud--good or bad.

I like this flat.

I don't want it mucked over with a lot of gold-crazy lunatics." Bud laughed and reached for the bacon.