She regarded him with increasing amusement. Then she laughed outright, her sleek shoulders quivering as she rocked on her dusty toes.
“I guess so. Yas, I guess so! A lot o’ good that’d do ye, wouldn’t it now? Ha ha! Be ye findin’ any cold tea up into the rawcks, mister?”
“Up in the rocks? What makes you think I’ve been up there?”
She looked up the road; down the road; at the bushy track leading away behind her, up-stream. Reassured, she laughed down at him.
“Oh, I hearn ’bout ye,” she declared. “Some o’ them rawcks has got eyes into ’em, mister. Ye’ve been up ther’ a-noseyin’ all around. Was ye lookin’ ther’ for the place wher’ this crick starts?”
Again she shook with laughter. Coupled with the oddity of the missing teeth, her mirth was contagious. Douglas grinned in answer.
“Nope. Hunting a gold-mine. What did you think?”
To his surprise, she took the jest seriously. Her black brows lifted and her wide smile faded. Presently she nodded in that wise way of hers.
“Ninety-Nine’s Mine!” she said. “But ’tain’t a gold-mine, mister—it’s silver. An’ it’s fu’ther down than the place wher’ ye been lookin’—leastways that’s what folks say. But ye’ll be a long time a-huntin’, I shouldn’t wonder. Why didn’t ye say so before, ’stead o’ gittin’ folks all riled up ’cause they didn’t know what ye was pesterin’ round after?”
He stared, wondering whether she was making game of him, and decided that she was not. A lost mine! His blood quickened at the thought. But he kept control of his face and smiled again casually.