“Make one!” exclaimed Madge.
“Yes, I think I can. Among my notes, back in Hathaway, are directions for making a small home-made glass that will show the mountains, craters, and plains of the moon, the rings of Saturn, at least four of the nine satellites of Jupiter, and at certain times the polar caps of Mars. Also any large spots that may appear on the disk of the sun. We have a good blacksmith shop in camp, of course, and I know Blacky will let me use his tools. Then I’ll use that telescope until I can buy a five-inch one—which is my great ambition in life—and then I’ll— Oh, well, I’m boring you, I know. I get too enthusiastic over these things, I guess.”
“I wouldn’t be ashamed of the enthusiasm, Joshua,” Madge said, her brown eyes dreamy once more. “But tell me this: Is there any money in it?”
“Money! Who cares for money?”
“But you’ll have to live.”
“Yes, of course. I suppose that’s true. But I can work on the railroad grade as long as the road is building. That will be six months to a year, I think. I ought to save some money in that time. And maybe I can get a job somewhere about here after the outfits have moved on. There’s work at G-string, in the mines, isn’t there?”
“You couldn’t work in a mine all day and study the stars at night, could you?” observed Mrs. Mundy. “It seems to me that would soon ruin your health.”
“I could ruin a lot of that and still have plenty to spare,” he laughed with boyish assurance.
“I should think,” Madge offered, “that, rather than do that, you would want to save up for a university education.”
“No, I think not,” he said musingly. “Clegg was against it. He said in his whimsical way that he entered an Eastern university once, but that he quit because it took too much time from his studies. No, I want to observe the stellar bodies, not read about them and look at pictures.”