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Show THE BUNGLER BY JAMES M. SPENSER. Old Tom sat oil the bunk and watched the other divide their outfit. "1)111," he quavered, moistening1 his lips, then again: "Bill!" UIll did not turn his head, hut went on with his packing. Ho lashed on a roll or blankets, a pick and some drills, and headed head-ed the pack-burros down tho trail. Thon straightening1 his broad young shoulders ho faced tho old man. ".Now then," ho said, "now wo're split-tin' split-tin' Tor good, I'm goln to put It to yu straight. Yu claim yu found that rioat hero In tho gulch. Mohbo yu did; an' agin, mobbo yu didn't. I'm Just a-tollln' yu that yor no prospector. Yor a puro bungler. You've botched things rrom tho start. Us two Is quits Tor kcops." Dill turnod down the trail, and tho old man stumbled to a log whoro ho sat till man and burro were swallowed up by tho pines. Ho worked hard on tho gulch that day, but he could not rid hlmsoir or that parting thrust. To bo called a bungler and by Bill Ho bulked predominant In the eyes or tho old man, did Dill, young, strapping Dill. A wcok passed. Tho old rcllow's intor- . es,t in his prospecting ragged. Ho could not keep bis mind on the gulch, and orton ho straightened up rrom his pick and stood looking ore down tho trail. "Yes," ho would mutter, "yos ho called me a bunglor, Dill did. Thon came a day when he did not turn up the gulch as was his wont. Ho shouldered shoul-dered his pick and wandored up Elk Crock, his stops aimless, no purposo In vlow other than riding hlmsoir to tho old camping spot. On his way back that ar-tornoon ar-tornoon he paused at tho mouth or a wild-looking, wild-looking, stony gulch. Ho sat down on a bouldor, strangoly absorbed In the rough prorilo or tho clirrs above. Tho next day ho was back again. As ho picked his way up tho rough bod or the gulch, ho talked brokenly to hlmseir. "No this ain't tho gulch course It ain't not this one. I know whore I round that rioat round It Just whoro I told Dill I did. I ain't no bunglor." And that night, when ho turned back toward camp, ho hold out with the samo words, "No, this ain't the gulch." Yot tho rollowlng morning round him agjdn thoro with his pick. A strango fascination fas-cination drow him back rrom day to day, to assure hlmsoir again at sundown that this was not the gulch. And thon ono day ho stumbled onto tho load a root or gold-boarlng quartz Jutting Jut-ting rrom tho side or tho gulch. Flashed through his mind tho Tabulous assay rrom tho'blt or rioat ho had picked up tho sum-mor sum-mor bororo, and tho old man trembled a bit as he drovo his pick Into tho ledge. Tho sun was slipping behind tho rldgo and Its lovol bars sot up a sort glow on I tho yollow motal In his hand. Ho hold It closo up to his eyes, shading It with his hand. Ho molstoned It with his tonguo and thrust It out at arm's longth. Still tho yollow glow. Thoro could bo no doubt. With u groat surgo his harbored Toolings burst rorth. "Kh?" ho clamorod, shaking tho spocl-nion spocl-nion In tho race or tho sotting sun. "Dun-glor, "Dun-glor, oh? Dungler d" yu say? Yos, Dill," ho apostrophized, "yu was shoro right n puro bunglor. 01' Tom, tho bunglor, Dunglod hlssoir Into a cold million, by a bunglcsomo stroko or tho pick!" Ho wrolo out a location stake and placod , It ahovo tho discovery. Thon ha sat down and stralghway rorgot tho lodge. Dusk was coming on whon ho roso stirriy to his root and looked at tho blotch or whlto quartz at his sldo. A hoavy indir-roronco indir-roronco liad sottlod ovor him, and thoro was a troubled look on his raco. "Guoss It's causo I'm gottln' old," ho spoculatod. "Now, K I'd stumblod onto a lay like that whon I was a young buck and mil o' ginger llko Dill " Ho stood Tor a momont gnawing roricc- tivoly at his withorod wisp or a board. "Blamed ir I don't do It!" ho announced loudly to tho solitude about him; then pulled tho location stako rrom Its mound or stones and tossod It rrom him. Noarly a week passod, and the two camo back up tho trail togothor. Thoy unpacked their burros, Dill kindled a Tiro, and they ate their supper togothor as thoy had dono a hundred times bororo under tho big balsam. Thon twilight, their ovonlng pipes around tho camp-Tiro; tho ombcr-glow camo on; a grey rihn over tho ashes, and thoy turnod In Tor tho night. "No, Dill," tho old man remonstrated tho next morning, "yu go on alone. I'll stay behind an movo camp, as I was Just leHln yu, it's the second gulch to yor right up Elk Creek. About a hundred yards ahovo the burnt stump Is whoro I round my rioat last summor. An' I'm dead sure I ain't a-bunglln' this time, nolthcr, Bill." Tho old man watched him till ho had passed rrom sight ovor tho rldgo. "Dogglos!" ho ejaculated happily. "Wouldn't I llko to sco his oyes bug outon his head when ho stumbles onto uio lay?" With a, zest ho had not shpwn In many days, tho old rollow wont on with his task or breaking camp. He topped tho pack with tho tont, lashed It on, and bonded tho burros ovor tho rldgo. Whoro tho trail turns and buckles back toward the creek, ho hoard ho swish or brush abovo him. It was Dill. Ho turned down tho stoop slope, an avalancho or looso wash clattering at his hcols. His race was Hushed, his hat gone, but in his hand ho still carried that which sont tho nerves or tho old prospector tingling. It was a largo momont, but the old rollow rol-low hold hlmsoir nobly aloor rrom tho swirl that had caught up mil. "Well, Dill," ho drawled, with a Tine show or nonchalance, "I ain't such a worse bunglor, artor all, am I?" Dill brushed him asldo and roachod ror tho axo which dangled rrom ono or tho packs. "Got a prod on yu with thorn Jacks!" ho said. "If wo hustlo, mobbo wo can get our stakes on tho oxtonslon this truck comos rrom." Ho flaunted tho spcclmon undor the old man's nose, and tho latter drew up with a Jork. "Got our stakes on what?" ho rapped out, his voice gono tonso. "That extension!" Dill Hung at him as ho turnod up tho trail with the .ax", ."jack HB Herman rrom ovcr p'Iney way h'ifgot his K stakes on tho lay this com6 frni." , M That night, as tho two tH6 siitfper In tho now camp, Bill paused fcflcctlvoly bo- HH tweon bites. m "Say!" ho prorrored with sudden en- llghtonmont, "I ain't klcktn' on that ex- H tonsion wo got our stakes on, but I was H Just a-thlnkln' now ir you'd Just gono M on up and looked abound a little, when yu fl round tho right gulch, 'stead or hllcln orr M down tho trail artor mo " fl "Yes," admitted the old man, a flood M of color crcoplng up behind his ears, "If I'd only gono up tho gulch a ways 'M Bororo tho stars had dimmed In tho sky H tho next morning, tho two rolled out or M tholr bunk. BUI threw together a hasty meal, and thoy gulped It down and sat H waiting Tor tho palo rilm or tho morning H twilight. All that day and tho next they M scoured every root or tho claim they had E staked, probing the looso wash with their M picks, their oyos keen, straining ror a M glimpso or whlto quartz. They camo upon M no load, no rioat, nothing but tho gray H waste or solid rock which hemmed them M round. Tho third duy tt"lr spirits palled. P Tiring or the tamo puriuit, they dropped Hl down tho gulch to where Jack was at M (Continued next week). H |