"One thing is certain, it isn't a native, for they only grin without making any racket over it."
The boys stood side by side, and grasping their rifles firmly, peered toward a thick clump of fir woods from whence the sound had proceeded. But no more laughter came. Instead, the branches parted and coming toward them they distinguished the forms of three men.
Suddenly the hearty mirth broke out once more, and the shoulders of one of the three were seen to bob up and down as if his mirth was unrestrainable. But this time the outburst was roughly checked.
"Shut up, Rufus!" exclaimed one of the men angrily. "A joke lasts you longer than anybody I ever saw."
"Wha's dat? Oh, lawdy! Look-ee, boss! Dere's two white boys!"
It was a short, stocky negro who gasped out these words, his lower jaw dropping in a comical manner as he stared at them as though they had been beings from another world. For their part, the boys were no less astonished at this encounter.
The negro's exclamation was the first apprisal that his two white companions had of the boys' presence on the scene, and their surprise appeared no less than his. They were both rough, wild-looking fellows, with shaggy, unkempt beards and rough clothes with knee boots. Both carried shovels and tin pans, while the negro bore a pick and other mining tools. The boys guessed at once that the men were prospectors.
"Howdy, pards," exclaimed one of the men, coming toward the boys with extended hand, "what in the name of time air you doin' roun' these diggin's?"
"Glad to meet you," said Tom, taking the proffered hand and introducing his brother and himself. He then explained his plight. Both men raised their eyebrows as they listened, and the negro rolled his eyes in an odd fashion.
"Well, I'll be hanged," exclaimed the companion of the man who had first addressed the boys. "That's a tarnation bad fix and no mistake, ain't it, Jim?"