“Oh, it was just a gamble! A fellow kept following around after me and I
bought to get rid of him.”
“Some of you Eastern Yankees certainly can use your noses for something
else than to talk through,” said the engineer.
“If I smelled a bargain when I bought that stock I reckon it must have
been hunch instead of knowledge.”
“Well, stick by and stand your assessment for the smelter and you won’t
be sorry.”
Mayor Ware and several other citizens came hurrying to have the news
about “Bright Eyes” confirmed. I stood at one side for a time, listening
and meditating. When the cashier told them of my lucky strike they were
immensely tickled.
“But you know we Easterners never can make a goldmine seem real,” I
said.
“In most cases where they’re selling stock East the mines are not real.
But you’re West, now, and you happened in on the ground floor,” said the
mayor. “I am sorry I’m not there, too.”
“You can be,” I promptly informed him. “I’m called back home. I’m in a
hurry. I don’t know anything about gold-mines. I can’t come back here to
watch my interests. You folks out here know all about mines and values.
My stock is for sale if anybody wants it.”
“What price?” inquired the mayor. “We might make up a little syndicate.
How much do you want for the stock?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed, frankly. “It’s all new to me. I paid ten
cents a share. When a gold-mine gets to paying I don’t know how much it
pays.”
“It depends on the mine,” stated the engineer. “We can do a pretty good
job of guessing in our line, but we can’t see all that’s underground.”