“I don’t believe that would be advisable,” was Mr. Whyland’s reply.
“Nor I,” responded Gus. “I don’t want to face the man until we reach the mine.”
“We will tell Cottle of this. He can easily keep a lookout ahead.”
As soon as the mules were cared for, the little party entered the store. It was a place scarcely twenty feet square, lit up in the daytime by three dirty windows and at night by a couple of smoky lamps.
The air was redolent of the aroma of various groceries, mixed with the smell of tobacco and liquor. Oliver remained about five minutes, and then went out and sat down on the little porch to catch his breath.
Behind the store there was one room, used by Ford as a dwelling. In this apartment all hands were invited to spend the night with the proprietor; but all, with the exception of Cottle, declined with thanks, Oliver saying that now they were in the mountains, they would prefer to sleep in the open.
“I couldn’t sleep in that place if I was paid for it,” he told Gus, when the three were alone.
“Nor I,” replied the stout youth. “Crickety! the smell was strong enough to walk! I don’t see how Ford stands it.”
“It is a matter of habit,” laughed Mr. Whyland. “Just as the families of a wild tribe all live in one wretched hut. With so much pure air around, one would think they would want just that and nothing else, but the opposite is the fact.”
However, not wishing to offend Ford, they had him furnish them with supper and breakfast, and before leaving, Mr. Whyland purchased from him a pound bag of tobacco for a dollar, which he afterwards presented to Cottle for use in his stump of a pipe.