"Exactly so, Philip. Your arithmetic is wonderful."
"No doubt of it. I may be professor in a college yet!"
"He will have to stop here all night, for he can't leave the diggings before noon. Old Jones asked me if I thought you would keep him."
"What did you say?"
"That you didn't keep a tavern, and that your wife was mighty particular. But if he was a gentleman, I didn't suppose either you or she would send him on after dark."
"No," said Yates; "oh no!"
"There'll be a crowd in the valley," continued Dickinson. "There's more gold been dug these last days than there has in months, and they'll be down to the tents and over here to get rid of it, you may bet your life."
"So be it," returned Yates. "They couldn't dispose of it to more worthy people."
Then they laughed immoderately, as if the words had covered an excellent jest. Before the conversation could be resumed, a dwarfish old Indian woman, who was a miracle of ugliness, appeared at the door and announced that their supper was waiting.
"Come in, Tom," said Yates, rising with the utmost alacrity. "I couldn't eat any dinner for lack of company. You know Sybil picks like a sparrow—and I shall be glad of something myself."