has a great scientific laboratory to see what he makes of it. Don't you worry about it."
But Tom Graves did worry a day later when Truex suddenly came to town and went straight to his room in the Hotel Spokane.
"Tom," said the old miner, "I'm through with the Yankee Doodle Glory. I'd swap my half of it for a chaw of Macdonald's plug." And being pressed for a reason he repeated his former statement that he was afraid, He said that, in continuing blasting the tunnel and running it smack up against the vein, he had uncovered an even richer ore body, but that the strange sensations, as of a far-off echo, had increased a hundredfold.
"Garrett says something about a new metal," rejoined Tom Graves,
"Forget it. Metals don't affect your ears. I don't want nothing to do with that there mine."
"But," said Tom philosophically, "half of it is yours."
"I don't want nothing to do with it, just the same. I'm scared. I don't want to ever enter that tunnel again!"
"You won't have to, We'll develop the mine in style. It won't cost much, will it?"
"No. We got enough ore in sight to pay for all the machinery we need, an' I've a little money saved up. But," he repeated, irritably, "I tell you, Tom, I'm goin' to sidestep that there mine, I don't want nothing to do with it—not a damned thing. I'd rather. . ."
"All right, all right, old-timer. Keep your hair on, I'll take a run over to the Club and have a talk with Martin Wedekind."
The latter was a German-American of the best type.
