Joses took the piece of stone in an ill-used way, examined it carefully, and with a sour expression of countenance, as if he were grieved to own the truth, and finally jerked it away from him so that it might fall into the canyon.
“Yes,” he growled; “that’s silver ore, but it’s very poor.”
“Poor, Joses?”
“Yes; horrid poor. There wasn’t above half of that silver; all the rest was stone. I like to see it in great solid lumps that don’t want any melting. That’s what I call silver. Don’t think much of this.”
“Well, it’s a grand view, at all events, Joses,” said Bart.
“It’s a big view, and you can see far enough for anything,” he growled. “You can see so far that you can’t see any farther; but I don’t see no good in that. What’s the good of a view that goes so far you can’t see it? Just as well have no view at all.”
“Why, you are never satisfied, Joses,” laughed Bart.
“Never satisfied! Well, I don’t see nothing in this to satisfy a man. You can’t eat and drink a view, and it won’t keep Injun off from you. Pshaw! views are about no good at all.”
“Bart!”
It was the Doctor calling, and on the lad running to him it was to find that he was standing by a great chasm running down far into the body of the mountain, with rough shelving slopes by which it was possible to descend, though the task looked risky except to any one of the firmest nerve.