"Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway," Bud said, leaning back and
regarding the heap with eyes shining. "I helped him find it, and I kinda
feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim.
Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the
claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?"
"Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've got
so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good money."
"Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred
dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud
have 'em for a minute."
Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would
not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat
legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with
the other fist.
"No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!" he remonstrated vehemently, until
Bud whooped with laughter.
"All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the
rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go
hog-wild over it."
Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the
baking-powder cans.
"Let the kid play with it," he said. "Getting used to gold when he's
little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he
gets big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few
nuggets if he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he
won't get to thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his
nose all the time. Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits
a feller hardest, Bud--the hunting for it and dreaming about it and not
finding it. What say we go up to the claim for an hour or so? Take the
kid along. It won't hurt him if he's bundled up good. It ain't cold
to-day, anyhow."
That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their
responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would
quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in
the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away.
They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of
gold that rightfully belonged to some one else--but they agreed the
more cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close
relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs.
Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were
presumably able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done.
Their ethics were simple enough, surely.