Rathburn shrugged. “You’re always gettin’ right down to cases first hand off an’ running,” he complained. “Of course there’s folks I want to see. I want to see you, for instance.”
“I don’t reckon you’d be ridin’ any terrible great distance an’ takin’ chances by the handful just to see me, boy,” said Price. “But I ain’t tryin’ to pry into your affairs. You don’t have to answer any of the fool questions I ask you––you know that. I’m an old man an’ gettin’ childish.”
Rathburn laughed. “I can believe that when I find you still putterin’ around up here where there ain’t even a sign of mineral,” he chided.
“There’s gold right under your feet,” said the old man stoutly. “I’ll have a payin’ vein opened up here in less’n three months.”
“I hope so, Joe. There’s nobody I’d like more to see make a big strike than you. You were my dad’s friend, an’ you’ve been mine. I haven’t got many friends, Joe.”
“But them you’ve got is good ones,” said Price quickly. “How long you been away?”
“About eight months,” Rathburn replied with a frown.
“It’s hard to get away from the desert,” mused the old man. “It’s in your blood. If you leave here for good you’ve just naturally got to take something along with you from here––something that’s a part of the desert, you might say.”
Rathburn looked keenly at the face of his friend. But the old man was regarding his pipe, as if he had never until that moment seen it.