"Them youngsters got silver on the brain," he said. "Thet's what's the matter with them. I've seen plenty o' grown folks jest the same way in this country: a walkin', walkin' by the month to a time, a pokin' into every hole, 'n' a hammerin' every stone,--jest wild after gold 'n' silver. There's plenty on 'em's jest wasted time enough on't to ha' made a considerable money, if they'd stuck to some kind o' regular work. That little chap o' yourn, he's a driver; he hain't never let go the idee of findin' a silver mine, sence the day they hauled all them mica stuns down, back there'n the Pass. They're a rare couple, he 'n' Nelly: they are." "Yes, they are good children," said Mr. March: "good children; but I don't want them to get possessed with this desire for money." And he looked anxiously up the hill, where he could see Rob and Nelly striking off from the road, and picking their way across the rough ground towards a great pile of gray ore, which had been thrown out of one of the mines. Long Billy also looked up at them. "The little sarpents!" he said. "They're a makin' for the Pocahontas mine, straight. Rob, he was askin' me all about the piles o' ore 'n' the engines in the mines, yesterday." "Is there any danger of their being hurt?" said Mr. March. "Oh, no! I reckon not. That Nelly, she's jest the same's a grown woman. I allers notice her a holdin' the little feller back. She won't go into any resky places no more'n her ma would. She's got a heap o' sense, that little gal has."