"That's what we'll be doing soon, eh, Will?" suggested Jed.
"I hope so, but maybe we'll be fooled when we get to Dizzy Gulch. Every one seems to think there is no gold there."
"Don't let that worry you," replied Jed. "We'll get gold, I'm sure. Old Gabe knows what he is about. Don't believe what those old miners say."
"I hope you're right, but it doesn't seem so," added Will, with his usual habit of looking on the dark side of things.
The travelers found that the hotel they stopped at was somewhat better patronized than the former one, though it had been hastily constructed. There was the same quality of customers, however—miners and gamblers. After supper Gabe left the two boys alone, as he wanted to go about and make some inquiries of an old friend of his, who was somewhere about the diggings.
As Jed and Will were passing out of the hotel through the barroom, for there were no other egress, they were stopped by a flashily dressed man, who, with several others, was playing cards at a table in a corner.
"Hello, sports!" he greeted the lads. "Take a hand in the game. We're short."
"We don't gamble!" exclaimed Jed quickly. He was an outspoken lad, and never beat about the bush.
"You don't gamble? I reckon you're afraid of losing a dollar or so," sneered the man.
"No, but we don't believe in it," replied Jed, good-naturedly, and preparing to pass on.