"Say, Julian," remarked Jack, as they stood by the stream washing their hands and faces, "why don't Banta talk to us the way he usually does? I'll bet he is thinking about what is going to happen to us."
"I was just thinking that way myself," replied Julian. "But we have gone too far to back out; we have got to go on."
"Of course we have. I wouldn't back out now for anything."
Breakfast was cooked and eaten, and the same silence prevailed; and that same silence did more to shake the boys' courage than all that had been said against their mine. Mr. Banta answered their questions in monosyllables, and when he had satisfied his appetite he put the dishes away unwashed and went out to catch his horse.
"Take hold of the bell-mare and lead her up the path," said he, addressing the miners who were getting ready to accompany him. "We have to take her and all the stock along, or the boys' pack-horse won't budge an inch."
The miners were talkative enough now, when they saw the boys getting ready to start on their journey. They crowded around them, and each one shook them by the hand.
"Good-bye! kids," said one. "The next time I see you, you will be so badly scared that you won't be able to tell what happened to you up there; or, I sha'n't see you at all. I wish you all the good luck in the world, but I know that will not amount to anything."
"Do you think they can whip all these men?" asked Jack, running his eye over the miners, who were getting on their horses and making ready to go with Mr. Banta.
"That ain't the thing; you won't see anybody; but the sounds you will hear when you get fairly on the floor of that pit you will never want to hear again."
The bell-mare was caught and led along the path, the stock all followed after her, and the miners brought up the rear. Then Mr. Banta opened his mouth and proceeded to talk all the way to the mine.