They talked about other matters, until the chilly mist, gathering thicker round the camp, drove them into the tent.
CHAPTER VII
THE AMATEUR MINER
It was afternoon, and hot sunshine poured down into the little valley. Andrew stood at the foot of a low range, looking about with keen interest. The strip of level ground between rock and river was strewn with small fir stumps, among which lay half-burned logs and branches. On the edge of the clearing stood two log shacks and a smith's shop, with an unsightly heap of empty cans, broken boots and discarded clothing in front of them. A bank of shattered stone stretched toward the stream, and on a scarped slope of the hillside where the rocks shone a warm pink there was a black hole. A stream of water flowing out of it ran down a trench. This was the Rain Bluff Mine. Andrew felt disappointed. There was not much to show for the capital that had been subscribed. He supposed, however, that the pieces of machinery which lay in disorder about the waterside were expensive, and he meant to ascertain their cost.
"Why don't they get those things fitted up and working?" he asked Carnally, who stood near him.
"They're not complete. We're waiting until the Mappin people bring the rest of them."
Andrew pointed to several stacks of small logs.
"I suppose those are props? You seem to use a good many. Do you cut them on the spot?"
"The Mappin boys do. The Company pays for them by the foot."
"It strikes me that Mappin's doing a good deal of the Company's work. However, it looks as if we meant to dig the ore out."