George nodded gloomily. "This blasted talkin' about Michael's done more harm than anything."
"That's right," Pony-Fence said. "What's the strength of it, George?"
"Damned if I know!"
"Where's Michael to-night?"
Their eyes wandered over the scattered groups of the miners. Michael was not among them.
"Is he coming?" Pony-Fence asked.
George shrugged his shoulders; the wrinkles of his forehead lifted, expressing his ignorance and the doubt which had come into his thinking of Michael.
"Does he know what's being said?" Pony-Fence asked.
"He knows all right. I told Potch, and asked him to let Michael know about it."
"What did he say?"