“A breakfast,” Nick said, reaching for the last slab of corn bread, “than which there is no whicher. Boys, you see what’s under my feet?”
The other stared down. Nick had his feet on a little mound of earth.
“That,” the puncher went on, “is the world. Me, I’m sittin’ on top of it. Savvy? Yay, boy, what a meal!”
“Like it?” Silent asked. Since he seemed to be an expert in the culinary art, he was unanimously elected cook.
“I’ll tell a maverick!” Roy declared fervently. “Best I ever had. Makes you feel all pepped up, ready to carry loads and loads of gold without feeling the weight.”
“Uh-huh,” Teddy remarked dryly. “Without feeling the weight—you got that part of it right, anyhow.”
The dishes were cleaned, cots made up, and the tents put in order. When, finally, the horses were saddled and all was ready for the start, Gus decided suddenly to take along a rifle and a box of cartridges.
“You never can tell,” he remarked in explanation. “Me, I’m a great believer in proverbs.”
Nugget Camp was cupped in a sort of bowl among the mountains. Two large streams and one small one watered the district, and a large amount of timber grew near by, which in itself was an unusual occurrence. Seldom are gold and timber found allied.
Gus’s claim was but a short ride from the tents, and as he trotted along, ahead of the boys, he waved to several of his newly made friends.