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diff --git a/old/69671-0.txt b/old/69671-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3982964..0000000 --- a/old/69671-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,971 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Greener than spruce, by Herbert Farris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Greener than spruce - -Author: Herbert Farris - -Release Date: January 7, 2023 [eBook #69671] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREENER THAN SPRUCE *** - - - - - -GREENER THAN SPRUCE - -By Herbert Farris - -Author of “Plenty Grub an’ Plenty Gold,” etc. - - - - -“Maybe greener men _have_ hit Alasky--but I doubt it!” - -The speaker, a rheumy-eyed, old veteran of the trails, spoke thus -disparagingly of young Harris Benton. The old-timer’s perpetual -“sun-grin” expanded visibly as he watched Benton’s parka-clad figure -disappear around a bend in the river trail. - -“Wonder how long he’ll last,” the old fellow speculated, turning to -the group on the river bank. “I’ll bet I’ve showed him a dozen times -how to tie his snowshoes to his feet, an’ I’ve told him little -things about pitchin’ his tent and makin’ camp, till I’m black in -the face. It’ll be three-four weeks yet before mushin’ll be any -good, but I’ve got a right good notion to load up the old Yukon sled -an’ take out after that young chechahco.” - -“An’ why?” - -The old-timer had paused for that query. The question certainly gave -pith and point to the clever thing on the tip of his tongue. The -remark would have lost its savor in the telling; the retort, -however, was pungent. - -“An’ why?” he repeated. “I’ll tell you for why. I’ve been snow-blind -twice, so my eyes ain’t what they used to be. Nowadays, when I ain’t -wearin’ snow glasses--an’ blast the dang things, I hate ’em!-- I’ve -got to keep my eyes clamped on the spruce. - -“Spruce is dang restful to the eyes. It’s restful because it’s -green, but to keep on lookin’ at it, a man’s got to twist his head -from one side the river to the other, an’ there’s times when I think -I’m li’ble to twist my head plum off--like a screech owl. Now, -instead of takin’ all that trouble, I _could_ start out an’ foller -after this young Benton. Instead of lookin’ at the spruce then, I -could keep my eyes fastened straight ahead on _him_. He’s greener -than any spruce that ever growed.” - -If young Harris Benton could have heard this sarcastic speech, he -would have been rudely made aware of the withering contempt in which -he was held by the general run of Alaskans with whom he had come in -contact. Had he been aware of the feeling which existed, he would -not have been offended in the least; he would have been amused. He -was green but, unlike many greenhorns, he realized the fact and was -anxious to learn. Moreover, he was willing to accept the hard -knocks--a part of the curriculum of Alaska’s trail school--and come -up smiling. For Harris Benton, although he was probably the greenest -chechahco in the North, had not been raised a pet. - -At noon, young Benton hauled his sled to the river bank and, with -considerable difficulty, dropped a dead spruce tree and built a -small tea fire. After his noon meal he unloaded his Yukon sled, -inverted it so that the steel-shod runners shone like twin mirrors -in the rays of the sun; then--and this is almost past believing--he -proceeded to smear the steel shoes of the sled runners with -lubricating oil. - -The dealer who had sold him the oil--either unscrupulous or a -practical joker--had seriously informed him that “greased sled -runners makes mighty easy slippin’ on the trail.” Harris Benton had -innocently bought five gallons of the lubricant. - -Where a musher pulls without dogs, as young Benton was doing, every -pound of excess weight is an additional check to his progress. And -besides the five gallons of lubricating oil, Harris Benton was -hauling other nonessentials. He had more clothing than he really -needed; about twenty pounds of books and old magazines, and the -merchant from whom he had bought his outfit had sold him far too -many cooking utensils. Benton’s entire outfit weighed almost twelve -hundred pounds, and, since at best he could haul but four hundred -pounds on his Yukon sled, he was relaying. He would haul from three -to four hundred pounds as far up the river trail as he could -possibly travel in a day, cache his load, and return to his camp -with his empty sled. - -Early in the month of May he reached the Kentna country. He had been -on the trail four months, and he had arrived with pick, pan, and -shovel, together with ample food to last him through the mining -season. Also--as every old-timer in the Kentna country will -testify--he had arrived with the ambition and energy of a half dozen -men in spite of the grueling work on the trail. - -Young Benton spent his first week after arriving at “the cricks” in -building a cache for his supplies. It was a simple box affair, built -of logs, supported high in air by four posts. He was busily stowing -his food and other supplies in the cache, when a voice at his elbow -brought him about with a start. Looking up from his work, he saw the -old-timer who had offered him many helpful suggestions back at the -trading post. The old man was surveying him, his small stock of -provisions, and his crude cache, with frank curiosity. - -“Well, I see you landed here all right,” he remarked by way of -greeting. “I’m camped just above here on Penny Ante Crick, an’ I -ain’t got a thing to do till the snow goes off, so I thought I’d -mush over an’ see how you’re gettin’ along. Staked yourself a claim -yet?” - -Benton admitted that he had not. “I didn’t know it was lawful to -stake a claim unless you discover gold,” he added. - -“Plenty of ’em stakes first an’ find the gold afterward--if there’s -any to be found.” The old man’s rheumy eyes were mildly -disapproving. “I wouldn’t worry too much about makin’ my discovery, -if I was you. Most any gravel you find around here carries _some_ -gold. Trouble is to find it in payin’ quantities. So hurry up an’ -stake yourself a claim or two, before some of these ground hogs -comes in on the first boat this summer an’ grabs it all. Us -old-timers takes just what we can work to good advantage, but most -greenhorns’ll wear out a pair of hobnail shoes just a-racin’ over -the country stakin’. You’re lucky to be here among the first, so -hurry up an’ get busy.” - -“Thanks for the tip. I’ll----” - -“It’s none of my business,” the old-timer suddenly interrupted, “but -what in thunder have you brought into the country in _that_?” - -Benton had placed his five-gallon can of lubricating oil near the -cache, and it was that which had elicited the question. He was -somewhat puzzled. - -“Why, that’s my oil,” he said. “How do you carry yours?” - -The ancient sour dough had all he could do to keep a straight face. -This green chechahco had actually brought kerosene into this -wilderness! - -“You won’t have no use for a lamp,” he said gently. “All summer you -can read fine print right in your tent--any hour of the night, too. -I thought ev’ry-body knowed----” - -“I have no lamp,” young Benton interrupted impatiently. “I’m green -but I’m not quite a fool--I hope. That isn’t oil for a lamp; it’s -about four gallons of lubricating oil that I had left over from my -winter’s sledding.” - -“I see.” The old man shifted his weight from one moccasined foot to -the other, swallowing his Adam’s apple twice before he once more -found his voice. “I understand you but I don’t know what you mean,” -he said. “How much of this oil did you use an’ how did you use it?” - -“Well, I used about a gallon.” Young Benton was looking doubtfully -at the old man. “I think I see what you’re driving at now. I allowed -that storekeeper to sell me five gallons when one was all that I -needed.” - -The old-timer lifted his tufted eyebrows. “An’ you got through the -winter with one gallon,” he said softly, wonderingly. - -“Why, I only used it in the morning and again at noon. Just when -I--but maybe I didn’t use it often enough. Still, the sled came -along pretty well.” - -The old-timer barked apologetically in his mittened hand. At last he -understood. It had been so many years since he had heard of the old -joke of greasing sled runners that he had forgotten. But this boy -was so very much in earnest, it wouldn’t do to hurt his feelings. -And besides, it might lead to serious trouble. This innocent youth -had dragged this worthless stuff over the trail--pounds and pounds -of it. Murder had been committed for less than a joke like that! - -“The skinflint sold you too much, all right,” he said, as he reached -down and thoughtfully “hefted” the can. “But you’ve got it here--I -reckon you might as well forget it. Anyhow, you won’t have any more -use for it. You’re all through sleddin’. An’ now I’d better be -gettin’ along. If you want anything this summer, you’ll find me over -on Penny Ante Crick. Number Five Above Discovery’s the name of my -claim.” - - * * * * * - -Harris Benton was highly elated when he next saw the old-timer. Not -only had he staked a claim on what he called Benton Gulch but he had -actually discovered gold and he had found it in paying quantities. -For a week he had panned the gravel on Benton Gulch, and he was now -displaying his sample to the old-timer. The old man listened -attentively to the boy’s story, but did not enthuse over the sample. - -“You’ve come clean over here to Penny Ante Crick to show me this, -an’ I’m right sorry to have to disappoint you.” In spite of the old -man’s words, young Benton was grinning cheerfully. “It takes a whole -lot to discourage a young rooster like you,” he resumed, “but I’ll -soon show you why you’ve got to leave that gulch alone. I don’t -doubt what you say. You got the gold here to prove it. But how’re -you goin’ to work the ground? Answer me that.” - -Harris Benton still grinned. “I know why you think I can’t work that -ground,” he said. “It’s what you old-timers call a dry gulch. I know -there won’t be drinking water there this summer. What you overlooked -is this. By digging a ditch less than a quarter mile in length I can -get one of the best sluice heads in this country. Right over that -shoulder at the head of my gulch is where I----” - -“I know where you mean, all right,” interrupted the old-timer. “But -have you talked with Joe Murtry yet?” - -“Haven’t even seen him. But why should I talk to him? What has he to -do with it?” - -“Ev’rything. Joe Murtry owns ev’ry drop of water in Caribou Crick. -He recorded it last spring a year ago.” - -Young Benton was on the point of interrupting, but the old-timer -silenced him. “Now don’t start to tell me that all you’ve got to do -is to go over to Caribou Crick an’ get Joe Murtry to give you the -right to take what water you want, for Joe ain’t that kind. He ain’t -only the luckiest man in Alasky--he’s the _meanest_. If he’s worth a -dime, he’s worth a half million right now, but even so, he wouldn’t -give a man daylight in a dark cellar. You just forget you ever -staked a claim on that little gulch an’ start out prospectin’ for -something that’ll do you some good.” - -Young Benton thanked the old man for his advice. “But,” he added, -“I’m not going to start out prospectin’, when I’ve already -discovered gold--unless I’m forced to do so. I’m going over to see -Murtry at once.” - -“All right; but be ready to run if he comes at you. He’s the meanest -man in Alasky, bar none. Joe Murtry never done no man a favor, an’ -he never will. Mark what I tell you, son. He’ll chase you off his -ground just as soon as you show up an’ tell him what you want. -You’re just wastin’ your time. But, then, that’s the trouble with -all chechahcos; they won’t listen to an old-timer’s advice.” - -Young Benton went at once to Caribou Creek. In spite of what he had -heard of Joe Murtry, he was not convinced. There was an abundance of -water in Caribou Creek, and surely no man would be mean enough to -refuse to allow the use of the surplus. This line of reasoning gave -him great confidence, but his first glimpse of Murtry caused his -heart to sink. - -Murtry was not tall, but he was as broad as two average-sized men. -Yet he was not fat. His arms were unusually long, and, due to a -slight stoop to his powerful shoulders, his huge hands hung slightly -ahead of his knees. Young Benton looked at him and instantly thought -of a gorilla. With two others, Murtry was setting up a string of -sluice boxes. - -Benton watched them for a time; twice, without waiting to be asked, -he gave them a hand. Murtry, who had barely spoken, paused at last -and sized up his caller. What he saw evidently satisfied him. - -“Want a job?” he asked gruffly. “I’m taking one of these men upriver -tomorrow, an’ if you’re lookin’ for work, you can stay here an’ help -Sam. Do whatever he tells you.” - -Here was a golden opportunity. Surely if he favored Murtry, he might -expect the big fellow to reciprocate. “I’m not looking for work for -the season,” he said, “but I’ll be glad to help out for a few -days--if that will do you any good.” - -Murtry grunted. “All I need,” he said. “I’ve got a foreman an’ -fifteen men waitin’ for me upriver. They mush in from the -coast--their time starts the first of June whether they’re here or -not. Hunderd an’ fifty miles from here. I’m goin’ up in my boat an’ -bring ’em down. You stay an’ help Sam out till I come back with my -men, an’ I’ll pay you the goin’ wages--ten bucks an’ grub.” - -Sam soon shuffled off to cook the evening meal, and Benton decided -to say nothing about his sluice head of water until after they had -eaten. Their pipes going, he thought it time to broach the subject. - -“I didn’t tell you that I was a neighbor of yours,” he said by way -of opening the conversation. “I spent the winter sledding in my -outfit.” - -“That so?” Murtry said with a mild simulation of interest. “Where -you camped?” - -Benton indicated the direction. “Right over there,” he said, “I’ve -named it Benton Gulch.” - -“You ain’t staked that little dry gulch?” - -“Why, yes. You see, I believe there’s a little gold there--I don’t -know how much--I’ve already done quite a bit of panning and I hope -to----” - -“You’re a fool!” Murtry interrupted in a rage. “If you don’t know -that I own ev’ry drop of water in Caribou Crick, it’s time you was -learnin’. How do you aim to work that gulch without water?” - -“That’s what I came over to see you about,” said Benton. “I heard -that it was your water and I thought that you would be glad to spare -me a sluice head.” Benton was speaking calmly, in spite of the -other’s belligerent attitude. “Of course,” he went on, “if the water -in Caribou Crick should run low this summer or fall, I’d quit taking -it out, but----” - -“You’d _quit_ takin’ it out!” Murtry cried. “You’re never goin’ to -_begin_ takin’ it out! If you ever start monkeyin’ with Caribou -Crick, I’ll drill you so full of holes you’ll look like----” - -Murtry’s anger was intensified by his failure to find the word he -was seeking. “Say,” he cried, “you get clean off this claim! Beat it -quick, while you’re all together!” - -Benton was sitting at the rough table; he rose slowly. “Why -certainly--if it’s your claim--I’ll leave.” He was speaking -hesitantly but he was not afraid of the glowering bully who had -commanded him to leave. He was simply surprised at the man’s -unreasonable anger. “But even if I have no water, that gulch belongs -to me, and I mean to hold it.” - -“Hold it as long as you want to!” Murtry was shouting after him. -“Hold it till you get good an’ tired of doing assessment work on it! -Wait a minute till I tell you something you’d just as well know now -as later!” Benton paused and Murtry continued. “There ain’t any gold -in that gulch, but even if there was, _you’d_ never get to work it. -I’ve got the water an’ I aim to keep it!” - -The old-timer was right. He was right about everything! He had said -that Joe Murtry was the meanest man in Alaska; he had said that no -matter how much gold the tiny gulch might carry, Murtry would never -allow it to be worked. Benton considered the various things that the -old-timer had told him until he reached his camp in Benton Gulch. -Well, he decided, he would follow the old man’s advice and quit the -gulch on the following day. - -Benton had been prospecting the gulch every day for more than a -week. Through force of habit he took his pick, shovel and gold pan, -and went to work in the narrow cut which he had been running into a -shoulder of the hill near his tent. He was far from an expert with -the gold pan, but he enjoyed the beginner’s thrill, which always -came when he “tailed off” the residue in the pan, and saw the streak -of yellow trickling behind the black sand. - -Young Benton extended his cut three feet into the hill. He was -following along the disintegrated slate bed rock; although he did -not realize it, the bedrock was totally different. Before it had -been “slick,” now it was rough and “rotten.” - -He filled his pan with gravel and carried it to a hole which he had -dug in the gulch’s channel. Now the hole was filled with water from -the melting snows; in a week, perhaps, it would be dry. At least the -old-timer had said that it would, and Benton was now a firm believer -in the wisdom of the old man. - -It is a maxim with old-timers that “many things are mistaken for -gold, but gold is never mistaken for anything else.” A greenhorn is -often fooled, for example, by iron pyrites and “cube” iron, but when -he discovers gold, the real thing, he knows. So it was with Benton. -For a week he had been panning “pinhead stuff” that would “rattle in -the pan.” Now, as he “tailed off” the pan he had taken from the -disintegrated bed rock, he saw that a half-dozen dull-yellow pieces -of gold were in the bottom of the pan. Benton’s old-timer would have -pronounced them slugs. - -Benton was excited. He held the slugs in the palm of his hand, while -he attempted to estimate their value. The smallest of them, he -decided, was fully twice as large as a five-dollar gold piece; the -largest was surely worth more than twenty dollars. The six slugs -would total almost a hundred dollars. Chechahco that he was, Benton -still knew that he had uncovered bonanza dirt. - -Young Benton went again to his cut. This time he worked feverishly -for two hours. His pay streak was rich, extremely so, but there was -a heavy overburden to handle. In other words, above the pay he had -discovered on bed rock, lay ten, twenty, possibly as much as fifty -feet of muck and gravel. Undoubtedly the ground was rich enough that -he could take out hundreds of dollars that summer without water, but -if he could only manage to get that sluicehead from Caribou Creek, -he could with a pressure hose, run that overburden off like so much -soup. He _must_ have that water? But how? - -At five o’clock next morning young Benton was seated on the stump of -a spruce where the clear waters of Caribou Creek gushed into the -brown foam-flecked river. He looked at Murtry’s river boat which was -beached near by. It rested on two fresh-peeled logs, and Benton saw -that all preparations had been recently made to launch the vessel. -At six o’clock, Murtry and one of his men put in an appearance. -Benton had no time to lose; he spoke to Murtry at once. - -“Murtry,” he said, without rising from his stump, “I’ve been -thinking the matter over and I wonder if you would consider -_selling_ me a sluice head of water from Caribou Crick. I’ll pay you -what it is worth.” - -Murtry paid him no attention. He and his man put their shoulders at -the stern of the boat and skidded the vessel into the river. Murtry -made a line fast to a convenient “dead man,” while his man leaped -into the stern of the boat and started the engine. No sooner did he -have the engine purring rhythmically, than he shut it off. - -“What’s the matter?” Murtry, who was about to cast off and leap -aboard, made the line fast again. “Anything wrong with that engine?” - -“No, but----” The man was looking at Murtry in wide-eyed alarm. He -was afraid to tell what was wrong, and yet he dared not remain -silent. “Mr. Murtry,” he said, speaking swiftly, as if anxious to -break the news as quickly as possible, “there ain’t a single drop of -engine oil. I spoke to Sam about it last night after we’d loaded the -other stuff aboard, an’ he said there was plenty of oil here. But I -just looked an’ there’s nothin’ but gasoline. There’s more gasoline -than we need, but there ain’t a drop of----” - -“You idiot!” Murtry exclaimed. “Chase right up to camp an’ get some -out of the cache an’ hurry!” - -Murtry’s man leaped ashore, but stood hesitantly, shifting his feet -as if in a quandary. - -“Hurry! I don’t want to wait here all day!” - -“I’ll go look again, but I looked last evenin’ an’ there wasn’t any -there. At least I didn’t see it. That’s why Sam was so sure there -was plenty on the boat.” - -“Of course it’s there. If you don’t find it in the cache, look in -the tool shed.” - -At this the man shuffled off. Young Benton was much pleased at -Murtry’s unexpected delay, but he was somewhat nettled at the manner -in which he had been ignored. He decided to try again, and this time -he would do his utmost to make Murtry answer him. - -“I suppose you didn’t hear me a bit ago,” he began, “but----” - -“I heard you the first time,” Murtry interrupted with an oath. “Now -shut your yap an’ get out!” - -Benton did not move. Seeing this, Murtry’s great hamlike hands -twisted about convulsively; his lips drew back against his uneven -teeth, and with an enraged snarl he quickly rushed at the youth. - -“I’ll show you if you move or not!” he shouted. “Once I get a hold -of you, I’ll----” - -Murtry suddenly brought up with a sharp exclamation. Ten feet from -Benton, he had stopped with an expression of bewilderment on his -broad face. He was gazing like a man fascinated into the barrel of -an automatic. - -“I came ready for you,” said young Benton coolly. “I’m not on your -claim, and I don’t see you or anybody else throwing me off of -government land. And now, you can at least listen to what I have to -say, even if you don’t care to----” - -“I’ll listen, you young pup,” Murtry said, “but there’s a day -comin’. You’ll wake up some day an’ learn that what I say goes in -this neck of the woods.” - -Murtry advanced a step as he said this. “And you,” said Benton as he -menaced Murtry with his weapon, “may _never_ wake up, if you come -another step in this direction. There, that’s better,” he went on as -Murtry retreated a step. “From what I’ve been told, Murtry, you’re a -mighty rich man. It won’t bother you in the least to sell--or give -me, for that matter--some of your water. You’ve got your pile made. -Now be decent and give me a chance to get out of this country with a -little money for all the hardship I’ve gone through. Will you listen -to a sensible proposition?” - -“Rave on,” said Murtry sullenly. “You’ve got me dead to rights. Talk -away if it does you any good, but you’ll get nothin’ out of me.” - -“I’ll give you a third of all the money I take out,” said Benton, -speaking slowly and distinctly. “If you’ll give me the water to work -the ground. Is it a go?” - -Murtry opened his lips as if he intended to reply; then closed them -tightly. A minute passed and he seemed to reconsider. “You might as -well trot along,” he said contemptuously. “Use your brains. Why -_would_ I take a third? If there’s any money there, I can have it -all after you starve out; an’ if there ain’t anything there, what’s -the idee of my takin’ a third!” - -Benton said nothing more. Argument seemed such a futile thing, so -far as Murtry was concerned. Five minutes passed and Murtry’s man -appeared empty handed. His manner was apologetic. - -“It ain’t there,” he said, whining. “An’ there ain’t any on the -boat. Sam or some of the other boys must’ve used it all up last fall -before the boat was laid up. I don’t know what to do unless I mush -up there an’ have the boys come down in a boat or on a raft.” - -For almost a minute, Murtry raved like a maniac. “An’ ev’ry day that -my men stay up there, it’s costin’ me a hunderd an’ sixty-five -dollars.” He groaned. “Fifteen men at ten a day an’ my foreman at -fifteen a day. That’s what comes of puttin’ a man like you in charge -of my boat. Say, how long do you think it’d take you to mush up -there?” - -“A hunderd an’ fifty miles is a good ways--goin’ through the brush -like I’ll have to do,” the man said. “I’ll do my best though to make -it in ten days.” - -“Sixteen hunderd an’ sixty-five dollars!” Again Murtry groaned. “An’ -maybe a whole lot more--if you _don’t_ make it in ten days. Well, -what are you standin’ there for? Get a move on!” - -“Wait just a minute, Mr. Murtry. I’ve just thought about somethin’ -that may save you a whole lot of money, an’ save me that long trip -upriver on foot. An old-timer over on Penny Ante Crick has been -tellin’ all around that this young Benton sledded in nearly five -gallons of oil last winter. He was laughin’ about him usin’ it to -grease his sled runners, an’ he’s got upward of four gallons of it -left. Now, if you could buy it off him----” - -“Why, of course,” Murtry interrupted briskly. “I heard about it a -month ago. Just forgot it.” He turned to Benton. “How much do you -want for that oil?” he asked in a pleasant voice. - -Young Benton was thinking fast. He, too, had forgotten all about the -oil that he had bought to make slippin’ easy. He had considered the -stuff worthless, but now---- - -“I’ll tell you, Mr. Murtry,” he said thoughtfully, “I had a lot of -work sledding that oil in here last winter. I really hadn’t thought -about selling it, but since you need it, and I don’t, I’ll let you -have it.” - -“You mean for nothin’?” Murtry asked incredulously. - -“Of course not. I mean for a fair price.” - -Murtry became suspicious. “What do you call a fair price?” he -countered. “It’s worth nothin’ whatever to you, an’ I’ll give -you--let’s see, I’ll give you two dollars a gallon for it an’ allow -you a dollar a pound for freightin’ it into the country. Fair -enough, ain’t it?” - -Benton grinned. “That’s one way of looking at it,” he said amiably, -“but I really can’t think of letting it go for what you offer. Two -dollars a gallon is more than the oil is worth, but--the freighting -the stuff into this country. Man, that was the hardest work I ever -did in my life!” - -“I get you.” Murtry spoke thickly. “You’ve got me where the wool’s -short an’ you aim to gouge me. All right--tell you what I’ll -do--I’ll give you a hundred dollars cash on the nail. How ’bout it?” - -“That _would_ be gouging, as you call it.” Benton seemed to be -considering the matter. “No,” he said at last, “I can’t take that -much money. Four gallons of oil isn’t worth a hundred dollars.” - -“Say, what in thunder are you drivin’ at?” Murtry cried angrily. -“Are you tryin’ to kid somebody?” - -“Not at all. You’ve made your offer, and now I’ll make mine.” Benton -spoke slowly and distinctly. “As you said a moment ago, that oil is -really worth nothing at all to me, so I’ll tell you what I’ll do. -I’ll just give you the oil, provided that you’ll give me something -that’s worth nothing whatever to you. In case you don’t know, I mean -a sluice head of water from Caribou Creek. Are you on?” - -Murtry was thinking hard. There was not one chance in a thousand of -this confident youngster finding gold on that little dry gulch. -There was water to spare, lots of it going to waste, but oil--there -was only four gallons of lubricating oil in the country! With a -scowl, Murtry nodded his head in the affirmative. - - * * * * * - -It was a month later before the old-timer visited young Benton on -his dry gulch. Fully a half dozen men were bustling about on the -claim. Benton himself was closely watching two men who were holding -the nozzle of a pressure hose trained against a bank of gravel. The -old-timer stood aghast until Benton came over to greet him. - -“Well, how in the name of Sam Hill,” said the old man, “did you ever -make a deal with Joe Murtry to get this water!” - -For reply Benton fished a bit of paper from his pocket, and passed -it over. “Read it,” he said with a grin. - -The old-timer slowly spelled out the brief document. - - In consideration of four gallons of engine oil, I hereby - agree to sell, assign, and transfer to Harris Benton, - a full sluice head of water to be taken from the waters - of Caribou Creek, and I agree to allow him or his agents - to go on my claim or claims to dig the necessary ditch - to carry said water. - - Joe Murtry. - -“You’re the first man that ever got the best of Joe Murtry,” gasped -the old-timer. “How in thunder did you do it?” - -Benton explained. - -“And now,” he went on, “I’ve got some good miners working for me, -but--you’re an old-timer--do they seem to be working the ground all -right?” - -“Listen, son,” said the old-timer solemnly. “You don’t need the -advice of an old-timer.” - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the June 5, 1926 issue -of Western Story Magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREENER THAN SPRUCE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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