"You must know something about ore and croppings, and the like,
Jim?", Tom continued.

"In a prospector's way, yes," Ferrers admitted.

"Then we'll take a walk, now. Alf can wash up the dishes."

"It's all the little wretch is fit for," muttered Ferrers
contemptuously.

Jim looked carefully into the magazine of his repeating ride, then
saw to it that his ammunition belt was filled.

"Ready when you gentlemen are," he announced.

"Say, won't you take me with you?" pleaded Alf.

"You wouldn't be of any use to us," Reade answered.

"But I---I am afraid to stay here alone."

"Do you believe yourself to be so valuable that any one will want
to steal you?" Tom laughed.

Alf made a wry face and watched the others depart. Then, filled
with needless alarm, he crawled out into a thicket and hid himself.
He didn't mean to be trapped by prowlers!

Tom led the way for nearly a mile. At last the trio climbed a
slight ascent, halting at the top of the ridge.