“Bad luck or not, I am glad to have you here. After a hard day’s work it seems pleasant to have some one to talk to.”
“If I should leave you, how would Silverthorn do?” asked Grant, smiling.
“Poor company is worse than none. I’d rather hustle by myself than have that man ’round.”
The next morning the two partners went to work as usual. They always started hopeful of good results, but, as the day wore away and results were meager, their hopes began to sink. That day they cleared between them a dollar and a half, while their expenses, at a modest calculation, so high were provisions, were nearly double this sum.
“Another day lost!” commented Tom as they sat over their evening fire, for it was beginning to grow cold at the close of the day.
“We won’t say anything about it,” said Grant. “Let the three days pass, and then we will consult.”
About the middle of the next afternoon Grant was attacked by a violent headache.
“I shall have to close up work for the day, Tom,” he said.
“Go to the cabin and lie down,” suggested Tom.
“I would rather go on a walk. The fresh air may do me good.”