The Bite of Memory

"Gee, but it's heavy!" he cried, picking up a fragment the size of
an egg, and balancing it in his hands. "I don't know a lot about
gold-bearing quartz, but she looks good to me, all right."

"Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after
supper. Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have
uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had.
Or maybe he died just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he
never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud.
Then we'll see."

"Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on
any claims here?" Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin
and set it on the table. "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. "We ain't been followed up with
stampedes so far," he pointed out. "Burro Lode never caused a ripple in
the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful
good, too."