Then they trooped away to prepare their dinner, and Saunders turned to Devine with a contented smile.
"I guess," he said, "we've headed those company men right off this lode, and, what's most as much to the purpose, the boys will have to trade with me if anybody comes up and starts another store.

Just now I'd feel quite happy if I knew how Jim was running things." He was soon to learn, for he had scarcely risen from a meal of salt pork, somewhat blackened in the frying-pan, and grindstone bread indifferently baked by Devine, when Jim and several strangers plodded into camp.

He was very ragged, and apparently very weary, but he displayed no diffidence in accounting for his presence.
"It was kind of lonesome down there, and I figured I'd come along," he said.
Saunders gazed at him for a moment in mute indignation before his feelings found relief in words.
"And you raking in money by the shovelful!" he gasped.
"No," said Jim, decisively, "I wasn't quite doing that.

Anyway, it was your money.

I got only a share of it; and you didn't figure I'd stay back there weighing out flour and sugar when there was a gold strike on ?" Saunders contrived to master his anger, and merely made a little gesture of resignation.