CHAPTER VII.
A ROYAL GIFT
Wolfgang took the bit of stone in his own fingers and examined it critically. Always deliberate in his words and actions, he was now doubly so, and Mrs. Trent grew impatient of a situation which seemed unimportant, and that delayed for others, as well as herself, a much needed supper.
But Pedro was not impatient. He stood with folded arms and triumphant bearing, ready for the miner’s reply, whether it came soon or late; also, quite ready to disregard it should it be different from that expected.
“Well, Wolfgang?” asked the ranch mistress.
The miner heaved a prodigious sigh, and returned the ambiguous answer:
“That is what I have thought already, is it not?”
“What have you thought, good Wolfgang?” demanded the lady, looking toward the Indian’s glowing eyes.
“Copper. Copper, without alloy.”