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I told you it wouldn't do any good to come here." "I didn't expect to see them young fellers," growled the leathery-looking man. "But I'm a-goin' to git square with Abe Blower, jest wait an' see," he added, thickly; and then he and his companion started up the street and around the first corner. "The beasts!" murmured Mrs. Carmody, as she gazed after them.
The boys talked for a few minutes longer with the old lady, getting what information they could, and then hurried back to their hotel. On the way they kept a sharp lookout for the leathery-looking man and his cronies, but they did not show themselves. It was an easy matter for them to find old Mr. Dillon, who was reading a mining journal in the smoking-room.
Wragge alone, attired in a voluminous brown holland wrapper, with a limp cape and a trimming of dingy pink ribbon. The ex-waitress at Darch's Dining-rooms was absorbed in the contemplation of a large dish, containing a leathery-looking substance of a mottled yellow color, profusely sprinkled with little black spots. "There it is!" said Mrs. Wragge. "Omelette with herbs. The landlady helped me.
"Never mind who I am," replied Dave. "You let this lady alone and go about your business." "I wanter see Abe Blower." "He has gone away." "Say, where have I seen you?" demanded the leathery-looking man, suddenly. "Oh, I remember now, on the train, comin' from the land sale. Say, was you there?" "No." "I know better! I saw you on the train you an' them other fellers, too!"
About four hundred lean, leathery-looking men were working, swarming up out of the holes like ants in double columns, each man carrying a small bamboo tray holding about three pounds of stanniferous earth, which is deposited in a sluice, and a great rush of water washes away the sand, leaving the tin behind, looking much like "giant" blasting powder.
"Perhaps Blower has come back!" cried Phil. "I don't think he'd knock," answered Dave. "No, it isn't Abe," said Mrs. Carmody. "I'll go and see who it is." She went to the door and opened it, to find herself confronted by a tall, leathery-looking individual whose breath smelt strongly of liquor. "Is Abe Blower home?" demanded the man, in a thick voice. "No, he isn't," replied Mrs. Carmody, stiffly.
Strong paused and looked around. "Are there any questions?" "When will the first ship blast off, Captain Strong?" asked a lean and leathery-looking spaceman in the back of the room. "First time trial takes place at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Each ship has a designated time. Consult your schedules for the blast-off time of your ships."
There was no undershirt, waistcoat, or other garment to be seen, with the exception of a close-fitting cap, which had once been cat-skin, but the hair was all worn off it, leaving a greasy, leathery-looking surface, that corresponded well with the other parts of the dress.
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