A Feint
"Thank you," beamed Johnny, and forthwith Pop dragged them to his place of business.
Johnny left the following morning, and one week later he returned, trudging along beside his loaded horse, and he was the owner of a generous amount of gold, the treasure of a "pocket" upon which he had blundered. He determined to keep this a secret, for if he let it be known that he had found "color," what excuse could he offer for leaving that field? It fit too well into his plans to be revealed.
Pop grinned a welcome: "Have any luck?"
"Fishin', yes," laughed Johnny. "Bet I moved ten acres of gravel. I wasted a week; now I'm goin' north."
Pop frowned. "I reckon you'll have yore own way; but put in yore time fishin' an' prospectin', an' mind yore own business."
"Shore," said Johnny. "Look here," unrolling a bundle and producing two of the gold sacks, which were heavy and bulging. Pop stared, speechless, until his new friend opened one of them and dumped four dressed trout on the bar.
"Slip 'em in a fryin' pan with some bacon," grinned Johnny.
"Get 'em in th' river?" demanded Pop incredulously.
"You know that draw runnin' east from th' Gap—th' one with them two dead pines leanin' against each other?"
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