There was a
pool of this kind a quarter of a mile away, where there were "diggings"
worked by Patsey's father, and thither they proceeded along the ridge
in single file. When it was reached they solemnly began to wade in its
viscid paint-like shallows. Possibly its unctuousness was pleasant
to the touch; possibly there was a fascination in the fact that their
parents had forbidden them to go near it, but probably the principal
object of this performance was to produce a thick coating of mud on the
feet and ankles, which, when dried in the sun, was supposed to harden
the skin and render their shoes superfluous. It was also felt to be
the first real step towards independence; they looked down at their
ensanguined extremities and recognized the impossibility of their ever
again crossing (unwashed) the family threshold.
Then they again hesitated. There was a manifest need of some
well-defined piratical purpose. The last act was reckless and
irretrievable, but it was vague. They gazed at each other. There was a
stolid look of resigned and superior tolerance in Wan Lee's eyes.
Polly's glance wandered down the side of the slope to the distant little
tunnels or openings made by the miners who were at work in the bowels of
the mountain.
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