"That sounds simple enough," the man remarked. "May I ask what we are after?"
"I'm searching for gold," said Bryce with a startling clearness.
The other shifted in his seat, looked at Bryce as if to measure the possibilities of his next remark, and then said, "There's no gold there."
"You mean," said Bryce, "that none's ever been discovered there; quite a different thing. I hope to discover some before I'm done."
"It's too far west for mines," the other asserted.
Mr. Bryce passed over the man's statement in a way that showed that as far as he was concerned that aspect of the matter was over and done with. The obvious answer for him to make would have been, "Gold comes in other ways than out of mines," but he was cautious enough not to air all his knowledge at once.
"What's your name?" he demanded.
"Abel Cumshaw," the other answered, and saw by the way Bryce screwed up his brows that it conveyed nothing to him.
"Well, Mr. Cumshaw, would you care to take this job on?"
"How long would we be away?"