"Just think of the experience you are getting. Don't you consider that valuable?" asked Jim.
"I have got a goldarned sore leg if that's what you mean, where that rock hit me," growled Tom.
"You've got a sore head, but you always had that," added Jim.
"It isn't sore from being swelled," Tom retorted, bitingly.
"If I ever want a lawyer with a razor-backed tongue, I will employ you," laughed Jim.
"You won't ever have the money, unless you strike something soon," remarked Tom.
"Let's not quarrel among ourselves, so long as we have the river and the Indians to scrap with," I suggested.
"Very well, old sox, we won't," concluded Jim, and Tom kept silent.
So peace was established, until the next outbreak.
It was the middle of the afternoon of the following day that we neared the junction of the two rivers, the Grand and the Green. We had considerable curiosity to see the uniting of the two great streams. We imagined that the surroundings would be "Grand and Green" as Jim phrased it, but we were to be disappointed.