“This looks to me to be a cave,” said Jim.
“It don’t keep it from being a pocket mine, even if it is a cave,” said Jeems wisely.
“You ought to know, Jeems,” said Juarez, “as you were a prospector before we were born.”
“Oh, I’m not that old,” protested Jeems. “Here we are getting to the workings now.”
“Sure enough,” cried Jim, a thrill of interest in his voice.
“Here is where they have picked out some nuggets,” said Jo.
“It won’t be far to the find now,” said Tom, shaking with excitement.
Jeems was looking closely with his trained eyes along the walls and into every crevice and upon the shelves of stone, for the sides of the cave-mine were not smooth, but singularly rugged.
“Struck it rich, boys!” Jeems cried suddenly, as he held the flame of his torch near the wall. “Give me the pick, take the lamp, Tom.” It was the ultimate moment of triumph for the Frontier Boys. Carefully, but with skillful precision, Jeems brought the pick down upon the surface of the wall where it was roughened into little mounds.
“That don’t look like gold,” said Tom. “It’s nothing but dingy rock.” Jeems only smiled at Tom’s comment, as he swung his pick in the light of the flaming torches.