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But the two bundles were open and the canvas bags tied at their necks were revealed bulging with their precious contents. In a moment the banker’s interest became absorbed.

“That all dust?” he asked quickly. Then he added: “Some stuff there—sure.”

Cy nodded without speaking. He cut the fastenings and passed the bags through the grid which Burns had flung open.

“Weigh it,” he said.

The man’s voice was harsh and his demand sharp, and the banker passed the bags to the teller at the scales.

No further word passed while the youth manipulated the weights, and Cy watched his every movement with an intensity of concentration that brought his dark brows closely together over his curious eyes.

The gold was emptied into the scale, which only took a portion of one bag. The teller noted the weight and emptied the scale into one of the bank’s own leather bags. Six times the scale was filled to overflowing, while the silent men looked on at the dull, red-yellow of the gold this man had brought. It was dust and nuggets, but mostly nuggets of splendid proportions.