“Be safe as a church,” said Scattergood, boldly.  “Lug her out.”

So they carried the gold to the buggy, covered it snugly with ferns, and drove toward the next town, Scattergood talking excitedly of profits and of how much mining stock he could purchase with the money received, and of ample wealth from the transaction.  Mr. Bowman smiled with the faint, quiet smile of one whose soul is at peace.  Just before they got to town Scattergood suggested that they stop to make sure the gold was completely concealed.

They drove into the woods a few rods and uncovered the treasure.  Scattergood gloated over it.

“I’ve heard tell you kin cut real gold like cheese,” he said, and opened his jackknife.  With it he hacked off a shaving and held it up to the light.

“Is all gold this here way?” he asked.  “Don’t look to me to be the same color all the way through.  Looks like silver or suthin’ inside.”

Mr. Bowman snatched the shaving, scrutinized it, and uttered language in a loud voice.  He snatched Scattergood’s knife and tested all three ingots.

“Lead!” he said, savagely.  “Nothing but lead!  We’ve been swindled!”

“You mean it hain’t gold a-tall?”

“It’s lead, I tell you.”

“I vum!...  Them fellers stole lead!  And they got off with all your money.  Gosh!  I’m glad I didn’t have none along.”  His eyes were mirthless and his face vacuous.  “Beats all.  Never heard tell of nothin’ sim’lar.”

They got into the buggy and drove silently into town.  Mr. Bowman tried to recover his spirits, but they were at low ebb.  He did manage to hint that Scattergood should stand his share of the loss, but in his heart he knew that to be vain.  Still, he could get that five thousand dollars for the mining stock.  It would be five thousand dollars.

“Anyhow,” he said, “you’re fortunate.  You still can buy the stock and make your pile.”

“This here deal,” said Scattergood, “has kind of made me figger.  ’Tain’t safe to buy gold chunks till you know they’re gold.  Likewise ’tain’t safe to buy mine stock till you know there’s a mine.  Calc’late I’ll do a mite of investigatin’ ’fore I pungle over that five thousand....  Where kin I leave you, Mr. Bowman?  I’m calc’latin’ to drive home from here.  Maybe I’ll see you later.  But I got to investigate.”

Mr. Bowman made himself unpleasant for a brief time, but Scattergood was vacuously stubborn.  Presently he drove away, leaving Mr. Bowman on the veranda of the hotel, scowling and uttering words of strength and meaning.  Mr. Bowman was very unhappy.

Scattergood drove as rapidly as his horse could travel, arriving at Coldriver just after the supper hour.  He went directly to his store, which had been left in charge of Mr. Spackles.  Three men were waiting there for him.  They handed him a leather bag and he satisfied himself that it contained fifteen thousand dollars.