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"De Launay?" he called again. The figure seemed to grow suddenly nearer and more distinct, descending close upon him. "It ain't no Delonny," chuckled a shrill voice. "It's me." "Huh!" said Dave, with disgust. "Jim Banker, the damned old desert rat!" "Reckon you ain't so glad to see me," wheezed Jim, still chuckling. "Old Jim's always around, though; always around when there's gold huntin' to do.
"Oh, pretty young, I guess. Not much more than a kid. Say that French dame has a crust, hasn't she, comin' in here after all these years, swellin' round with her face covered as if she's afraid her complexion wouldn't stand the sun, and expectin' to run onto that mine, which, if she did find it would be as much mine as it is hers. And who's this Delonny guy she's bringin' with her?
"What is it, messieurs?" asked Solange, her voice once more clear and sweet. The cow-punchers blushed in unison. "This here Mr. Delonny done sent us here to see you, ma'am. He allows you-all wants a couple of hands for this trip you're takin' into the Esmeraldas.
"It's quite a legend around here. The Lunch Rock mine, they call it, and Jim Banker, the prospector, looks for it every year." "But he ain't found it " A bell boy passed, singing out: "Call for Mad'mo'selle Dalbray! Call fer Mad'mo'selle Dalbray!" Mademoiselle rose and beckoned to him. "Three men in the lobby wish to see yuh, miss!" the boy told her. "Said Mr. Delonny sent 'em."
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