Even as Lanky spoke, Jerry turned around with uplifted hand.
"We're right thar, boys, and yuh goin' to set eyes on the remains afore yuh's five minuits older. Don't laugh, please, 'case to me it's like a-goin' to a funeral of an old friend. Seen some right lively times hyah in Gold Fork, an' I sumtimes dream 'bout the real men I nudged shoulders with in them rushin' days o' the long ago."
"Let's remember that, fellows," said Frank softly, "and respect Jerry's feelings in the matter. If we have to be amused we can pick out times when the old man isn't around."
"I'll not forget, Frank," said Paul instantly. "I think I can understand about how he feels. To see this familiar stamping-ground again will be like having ghosts walk."
"Ditto here," grunted Lanky, though not quite so given to sentiment.
The stipulated five minutes had not passed when on breaking through a barrier of wild-looking brush and bushes the party came fully upon the wreckage of one of the oldest and most talked-of mining camps in all that region.
To Frank especially, with Jerry and his memories in mind, the picture was intensely desolate, weird, and impressive. All of the pilgrims drew in their tired ponies and stared at what was spread there before them.
CHAPTER XVI