The other laughed good-naturedly as he took a couple of handfuls of the “hardtack” out of a sack.
“You’d be a man only they won’t let you, eh? You’ve the grit, laddie, there’s no denying.”
The boy felt pleased. Peter understood him. He liked Peter, only sometimes he wished the man wasn’t so big and strong. Why wasn’t he hump-backed with a bent neck and a “game” leg? Why wasn’t he afraid of things? Then he never remembered seeing Peter hurt anything, and he loved to hurt. He felt as if he’d like to thrust a burning brand on Peter’s hand while he was cooking, and see if he was afraid of the hurt, the same as he would be. Then his mind came back to things of the moment. This gold prospecting interested him more than anything else.
“How far are we from Barnriff?” he asked abruptly.
“Twenty odd miles west. Why?”
“I was kind o’ wonderin’. Seems we’ve been headin’ clear thro’ fer Barnriff since we started from way back there on the head waters. We sunk nine holes, hain’t we? Say, if we keep right on we’ll hit Barnriff on this line?”
“Sure.” The man’s blue eyes were watching the boy’s face interestedly.
“You found the color o’ gold, an’ the ledge o’ quartz in each o’ them holes, ain’t you?”
“Yep.”