CHAPTER VIII.
HOW LEN FOOLED THE PROFESSOR.
Entirely unaware that Old Bob had regarded them with so much interest, or had been so glad to overhear the fact that they would spend the night in town, Len and Max hastened to finish their errands, and then to go about the principal business which had brought them on the long walk to town. In one important point their squint-eyed friend had misunderstood them badly,—Sandy had remained at the mine.
As soon as possible, therefore, the two young men took their way briskly down the familiar path which led to the home of an old fellow who was known in the camp as “Mr. Professor.” His queer, solitary habits and sharp tongue had made him rather unpopular, but everyone acknowledged his expertness in judging ores, and his opinion was often sought by those who dared to face him.
“Are you sure you remember the shape of the specimens?” Max asked, for the twentieth time.
“As certain as anybody can be,” Len replied confidently.
As they approached the professor’s cabin, they saw that worthy chopping at a log beside it, whereupon they slackened their eager pace and sauntered up to his door with an air of unconcern.
“Good morning, Professor,” said Len pleasantly.
“Mornin’,” was the short reply, while the chips flew right and left.
“You must have learned how to chop in sme good school,” Max observed, in a tone expressing admiration.