“Not many men keep the day out here,” remarked Cottle. “Many of them don’t know what a Sunday is after they once leave the city.”
The entire Sunday was a beautiful one. After breakfast Mr. Whyland read several chapters out of a Bible he had brought along, and offered prayer; and then they took a long walk about the neighborhood, leaving Cottle lying in the door of the tent smoking his pipe and watching the mules.
“As I have heard remarked, this is God’s country, and so in very truth it is,” said Mr. Whyland. “Some day all these hills will be dotted with farmhouses and barns, and the sound of the thresher and reaper will be heard on every hand.”
“It is a rich country,” returned Oliver. “I would not wish for better farming lands than these.”
“And yet all who come here do so only for gold and silver,” put in Gus.
“It will not be so long. The people who mine must live, and somebody must raise the stuff for them to eat.”
“In that direction lies the Aurora mine,” went on Mr. Whyland, pointing with his finger to the south-east. “Cottle says we ought to reach it by Tuesday noon.”
“Colonel Mendix has already arrived there, I suppose,” said Oliver. “Won’t he be surprised when we appear on the scene?”
“No doubt he will do all in his power to outwit us.”
“But he shall not do it,” said Oliver decidedly. And he meant it from the bottom of his heart.