Occasionally one or the other of the boys sent Meyer inside to take his place for a spell with the pick and shovel, while he stayed out on the bank of the creek and took up the German lad’s job.
Half-past eleven came around, and Meyer was glad to turn in and cook dinner.
On his way back from a near-by spring with a pail full of water he ran foul of Prawle’s jacket where Meen Fun had cast it aside.
“Off dis don’d look exactly like Mr. Prawle’s yackets I’m a liar,” he muttered. “Vot a funny spots to hung it ub. Off I vanted to lose id, dese are der blaces I would leaf id. Maybe id don’d peen any bizness off mine to took it back mit me, but all der same I done it yust for der fun off der t’ing.”
When Meyer called the rest of the party to dinner he exhibited the jacket he had picked up.
“That’s mine,” said Gideon Prawle. “What are you doing with it, Meyer?”
“Vot I am doing mit id?”
“That’s what I said,” returned the prospector. “I left it hanging from a nail in my tent pole.”
“Is dot so-o?” replied the German boy. “You are sure off dot?”
“Certainly I am. I haven’t worn it for a couple of days.”