Lance looked up, and noticed they were almost directly beneath the bay thicket and the plateau that towered far above them.

The trail here showed signs of clearing, and the way was marked by felled trees and stumps of pines.
"What does your father do here ?" he finally asked.

Flip remained silent, swinging the revolver.

Lance repeated his question.
"Burns charcoal and makes diamonds," said Flip, looking at him from the corners of her eyes.
"Makes diamonds ?" echoed Lance.
Flip nodded her head.
"Many of 'em ?" he continued carelessly.
"Lots.

But they're not big," she returned, with a sidelong glance.
"Oh, they're not big ?" said Lance gravely.
They had by this time reached a small staked inclosure, whence the sudden fluttering and cackle of poultry welcomed the return of the evident mistress of this sylvan retreat.