"Yes; they'll earn their way, all right," agreed Father Richards. "It's a tough region, yonder at the mountains—and the more people, the tighter the living, till they raise other crops than gold."
"Then that's the reason why we ought to be starting—so as to get in ahead," persisted Terry. "This ranching's awful slow, and it's toler'ble hard work, too. Putting stuff in and taking it out again."
"You can't expect to 'take stuff out' unless you do put some in, first, can you?" demanded his father. "That's the law of life. But if you think you can dodge hard work, go on and try."
"Where?" blurted Terry.
"Anywhere. To the Pike's Peak country. You have my permission." And his father's blue eyes twinkled.
"Oh, Ralph!" protested Terry's mother, aghast. "Don't joke about it."
"Aw, I can't go alone," stammered Terry, taken aback.
"I'm not joking," asserted Father Richards. "But he'll have to find his own outfit, like other gold-seekers. Then he can go, and we'll follow when we can."
Mother Richards dropped the paper.
"Ralph! Have you the fever again? Oh, dear!"