Humbly and gratefully Leslie took his orders from "Doc Tenderfoot," while the men looked on with interest and many questions.
"Tell ye what," said Sandy heartily, "if I intended t’ winter here I’d feel easier about the trail bein’ closed. If a stick should go off at the wrong time and blow ye int’ pieces, Doc here could put th’ pieces together and patch ye up as good as new. Doc’s all right!"
"I wish," thought Ross as he saw his guests depart, "that I could say the same about Sandy."
But while he had no faith in the friendly pretentions of Sandy, he dreaded any mention of his leaving the mountains. To feel that he would be left alone with Weimer for months was maddening. If only Wilson and his partner were to remain on the Creek–but they too would go as soon as the trail threatened to become impassable. This careless speech of Sandy’s concerning leaving the valley drove all other ideas out of Ross’s head that night and persisted in the morning. To feel that Weimer and himself were the only human beings in Meadow Creek Valley, to know that there was no escape until the sun thawed away the barrier in the spring was a terrifying thought. It was present that day with Ross like a waking nightmare. As he pushed the little car out of the tunnel and dumped it, he looked up at the cold gray peaks with a wild desire to level them and bring Miners’ Camp–Cody–Pennsylvania–nearer. So absorbing was this desire that he forgot the promised visit from Leslie and was surprised to see him at the door before he had finished washing the supper dishes.
"You wanted to hear about that promised vein," explained the newcomer, reading Ross’s surprise in his face.
"Oh–why, yes! That pocket of free gold!" exclaimed Ross hastily picking up the thread of connection where it had been broken the previous evening by Sandy’s reference to leaving the valley. "Did you uncover it?"
"Uncover nothing!" returned Leslie. He sat on the table and swung his feet restlessly, adding despondently, "And what’s more, we won’t uncover anything in a lifetime up here, either. I’ve lost all hope–except," he added with a shrug of his shoulders, "just the minute that Wilson is talking."
"I never had any hope," said Ross slowly, "but then, I have never given the ore more than a thought. With me it’s simply to get the work done, satisfy my father and–clear out."
"And with me," responded Leslie, "it’s the money now–I’ve got to have the money. Only," he added, "I’ll say this–that when I left Omaha there was more in it for me than the money. You see–I’ll own up–I was crazy to get out of school and, well–see things and do ’em! If I’d gone to some other place, to Goldfield or even down to Miners’ Camp it would be different. But I’m here and all my money’s spent."
Continually he came back to that last statement. That fact had evidently swallowed up all the lust for adventure, for "getting out and seeing things"–it was the only thing that young Jones could now see in the situation. Ross wondered why but did not like to ask. Finally he said hesitatingly, "I say, Jones, if you want to get out of here I’ll–that is–I have enough on hand to let you have your car-fare back to Omaha."