"Where's the railway fare comin' from?" asked Lefty. "And the houtfit? I got enough from Lyman to tip it orf to me this hain't going to be any bloomin' picnic. We'll need guns an' grub an' burros, outside of what stuff we got now. Stone just spilled his last check on the funeral, an' then some. We're broke and in debt to the gravedigger."
"We ought to be able to sell the 'Foursome' for something," said Stone. "Everyone knows the chances of finding gold under the porphyry are good. We've done some work. The claim's worth something."
"Not when you go to sell it," said Healy. "Not much. It's always a question of, 'if you believed in the claim you wouldn't want to get rid of it.' We've got no good excuse. We've got to keep our mouths sewed about this Mother-of-Gold of ours. I can borrow some money once we get to Los Angeles."
"I'm going out right nowt o see if we can sell the claim," said Stone. "For enough for fares and feeding to Los Angeles, at least."
"I'll go with you," volunteered Lefty. Healy looked at them curiously, shrugged his shoulders, and applied himself to a game of solitaire. Stone noticed the fluent way in which the cards left his long, supple fingers. So, it seemed, did Lefty.
"I'd 'ate to 'ave to play cards against that shark," he said as they walked down toward the centre of the town. "Lyman 'ad 'im sized up right. Stone. That's w'y 'e gave 'im the short hend of it. That's w'y 'e gave you the big hend. Lyman figured you
