Lucky did not comprehend this explanation, but he read the disappointment in the faces of the others. To make him understand, Uncle Will tapped the blade of his knife and said, "Iron—no good,"—a simple form of expression which the Indian easily interpreted. He too showed genuine disappointment, for he had intended to do a kindness to Uncle Will.
"Well," said David, with at least a show of resignation, "I suppose there's nothing to do but retrace our steps."
"I don't care to retrace all of mine," said Mr. Bradford, whose pale face wore a smile beneath its bandage.
"Oh!" exclaimed his brother, "but those weren't steps! You didn't take a single step in the whole two hundred feet! The first fifty you slid, the next hundred you rolled, and the last fifty you flew, and we won't ask you to do it over again."
Indeed, they were all so thankful at Mr. Bradford's escape that the nugget was hardly given a thought, and on the whole it was a happy party which returned to Alder Creek that evening.
CHAPTER XXVII
AN INDIAN CREMATION
"We're nearly out of sugar and salt," Uncle Will announced a day or two later.