"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen jerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners."
"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at—what is it?—fifty-five and found. Found means board, you know."
"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?"
"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?"
Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied.
"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?"
The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply.
"M'm-m! Fine big country—Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day."
"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly.
"Been everywhere."