"Mica!" said Rod.
Neither of the boys looked up during the conversation. With the point of his hunting-knife Rod still searched in the bottom of his pan, turning over the pebbles and raking the gravelly sand with a painstaking care that would have made a veteran gold seeker laugh. Some minutes had passed when Wabi spoke again.
"I say, Rod, that's a funny-looking thing I found! If it wasn't so hard I'd swear it was gold? Want to see it?"
"It's mica," repeated Rod, as another gleam of "fool's gold" in his own pan caught his eyes. "The stream is full of it!"
"Never saw mica in chunks before," mumbled Wabi, bending low over his pan.
"Chunks!" cried Rod, straightening as if some one had run a pin into his back. "How big is it?"
"Big as a pea—a big pea!"
The words were no sooner out of the young Indian's mouth than Roderick was upon his feet and running to his companion.
"Mica doesn't come in chunks! Where—"
He bent over Wabi's pan. In the very middle of it lay a suspiciously yellow pebble, worn round and smooth by the water, and when Rod took it in his fingers he gave a low whistle of mock astonishment as he gazed down into Wabigoon's face.