“Going to take sluice-boxes?” Nick asked. Sluice-boxes are troughs, in sections twelve feet long, with screens and retaining cleats over which the gold-bearing material is worked by means of a constantly flowing stream of water.
“No. Not necessary. We can make them when we get there. What we need most are shovels, picks, pans, a few saws, some canned stuff, blankets, lanterns, and—say, what sort of a district is this Nugget Camp? Any timber around? Any water?” Silent inquired.
“Both,” Nick answered. “I rode through the place about eight months ago.”
“O.K. Then that’s settled. Now, how about sleeping? You got any tents?”
“Dad’s got two, I think,” Roy declared. “But they’re not so new.”
“They’ll do, I reckon. Two is better than one big one—easier to put up an’ better sleepin’. Long as we’re takin’ tents, we might as well cart a few folding cots.”
“I bet Dad’s got cots some place around,” Teddy asserted. “He used to do a lot of camping.”
“Then I reckon we’re all fixed up. Where can we get the mules?”
“Slim Bannister’s got a hoss farm ’bout ten miles away,” Nick said. “Got some mules there. He sells pretty cheap.”
After all was decided upon, Mr. Manley looked over the list and went to his office. When he returned he handed Roy a few bills of large denomination.