“Greeting, Van,” said he.  “Come in.”

Van shook his outstretched hand.

“I thought I’d like to see those results,” he said, “—­that rock I fetched you last, remember?  You thought you could finish the batch last week.  Gold rock from the ‘See Saw’ claim that I bought three weeks ago.”

“Yes, oh yes.  Now what did I do with——­ Finished ’em up and put ’em away somewhere,” said the assayer, dusting his hands and moving towards his desk.  “Such a lot of stuff’s been coming in—­here they are, I reckon.”  He drew a half dozen small printed forms from a cavity in the desk, glanced them over briefly and handed the lot to Van.  “Nothing doing.  Pretty good rock for building purposes.”

“Nothing doing?” echoed Van incredulously, staring at the assay records which showed in merciless bluntness that six different samples of reputed ore had proved to be absolutely worthless.  “The samples you assayed first showed from ten to one hundred and fifty dollars to the ton, in gold.”

“What’s that got to do with this?” inquired the master of acids and fire.  “You don’t mean to say——­”

“Do with it, man?  It all came out of the same identical prospect,” Van interrupted.  “These were later samples than the others, that’s all.”

The assayer glanced over his shoulder at the hope-destroying slips.

“The ‘See Saw’ claim,” he said perfunctorily.  “You bought it, Van, who from?”

“From Selwyn Briggs.”

“Sorry,” said the assayer briefly.  “H’m!  That Briggs!”

“You don’t mean——­ It couldn’t have been salted on me!” Van declared.  “I took my own samples, broke down a new face purposely, sacked it all myself—­and sealed the sacks.  No one touched those sacks till you broke the seals in this office.  He couldn’t have salted me, Frank.  What possible chance——­”

The assayer went to a shelf, took down a small canvas bag, glanced at a mark that identified it as one in which samples of “See Saw” rock had arrived for the former assay, and turned it inside out.

“Once in a while I’ve heard of a cute one squirting a sharp syringe full of chloride of gold on worthless rock, through the meshes of the canvas, even after the samples were sealed,” he imparted quietly.  “This sack looks to me like some I’ve encountered before that were pretty rich in gold.  I’ll assay the cloth if you like.”

Van took the sack in his hand, examined it silently, then glanced as before at his papers.

“Salted—­by that lump of a Briggs!” His lip was curved in a mirthless smile.  “I guess I’ve got it in the neck all right.  These last samples tell the real story.”  He slapped the papers across his hand, then tore them up in tiny bits and threw them on the floor.”

“Sorry, old man,” said the assayer, as before.  “Hope you didn’t pay him much for the claim.”

“Not much,” said Van.  “All I had—­and some of it borrowed money.”