291CHAPTER XXXI
THE EXPRESS MESSENGER
We slept late the following morning, and awoke tired, as though we had been on a long journey.
“Now,” said Johnny, when our after-breakfast pipes had been lit, “we’ve got to get together. There’s two serious questions before the house: the first and most important is, who and what is Danny Randall?”
“I agree with you there,” said I heartily.
“And the second is, what are we going to do with ourselves?”
“I’m going to begin mining,” I stated.
“All right, old strong-arm; I am not. I’m dead sick of cricking my back and blistering my hands. It isn’t my kind of work; and the only reason I ever thought it was is because the stuff we dig is called gold.”
“You aren’t going to lie down?” I cried incredulously.
“No, old sport, I’m not going to lie down. I came out here to make my fortune; but I don’t know that I’ve got to dig gold to do that.”
“What are you going to do?”