"Sure we does, every little while," remarked Nick, cheerfully. "Why, jest last year the hull side of a peak 'bout forty mile north of here broke away, and a Injun village was wiped out. Never did hear anything from a single critter after that slip bore down on 'em."
"It might happen here on Thunder Mountain, too, couldn't it, Nick?" pursued Peg, as if the subject, with all it pictured to his active mind, held his interest gripped in such a fashion that he could not shake himself free.
"Easiest thing goin', Peg. And let me tell ye, if it ever do happen here, thar's agoin' to be a slide to beat the band!" Nick asserted, positively.
"But what makes you say that, Nick?" demanded the boy.
"Oh! lots of people says the same thing," replied the other, as if carelessly.
"That a landslide is going to start things going on Thunder Mountain any time—is that what you mean?" Peg insisted on repeating.
"Any day, er night. Things have been lookin' that way for some time now. I reckon she's due with the next big cloud-burst that sails this way."
It was evident that, for some reason, Nick was trying to frighten his young employer. Perhaps he himself really wished to get away from the mountain with the bad name; and took this means of accomplishing his end without showing his hand. If that were true, then he was gaining his end, for Peg certainly gave evidence of increasing uneasiness.
"But why didn't you tell me all this before?" he demanded, indignantly.
"What was the use, boss? Ye was sot on comin' here, and ye made Joe and me a rattlin' good offer. 'Sides, it didn't matter much to me. I had my life insured. A rope might have skeered me; but say, I don't keer that for landslips," and Nick snapped his fingers contemptuously.