"A very brave, enterprising set."

"Of old men, I s'pose, sir, nearly worn out?"

"Nonsense! Able-bodied, vigorous, young and active fellows," cried Wilton decisively.

"That's right, sir. Then how many years is it since that poor old fellow was young, able-bodied, and vigorous, and started off into the desert with his party? It wasn't yesterday, I'll be bound."

"No!" said Wilton, very slowly and thoughtfully.

"He managed to live a long time out here, sir, eh?" said Griggs, smiling, "and so can we. We've got a hundred times his chance, for, as I said before, we know what he didn't."

"What do you mean?" said Ned's father.

"We know that the gold city is somewhere, and we've got his plan to work upon. Now, doctor," continued the speaker suddenly, "what do you say to making a start for the mountain to have a look round?"

"The sooner the better," said the doctor, "only let's make a stack of our stores."

"That's soon done," said Griggs, and all started to place the bales so that the mules might not investigate matters that were no concern of theirs.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

DISMOUNT!—QUICK!

"Isn't it grand!" cried Chris, as he tightened the girths of his saddle during the final preparations for the start, every one being well armed, and in face of the fact that they meant to be back at the camp the same evening, burdened with nothing but a wallet containing a little food and a bottle of water.

"Isn't what grand?" replied Ned.

"Why, riding off into a country where nobody has been before, and not knowing what wonderful discoveries we may make."

"Oh yes, I suppose so; but I wish old Griggs had spoken out as he has now before we started."

"What about?"

"What about? Why, our having to go on and on till all the stores are finished, and then for us to get nothing but frizzled meat to eat and water to drink. That's a nice lookout, upon my word! Here, see if you can get my girth tightened to this hole. This brute has been eating till he's as round as a tub."

"So has mine. I haven't got the girth as tight as it was last time by three holes."

"Oh! Then you needn't bother. I'm one hole better than you."

"All right, then. We shall have to tighten up two or three times to-day."

"Ready, boys?" cried the doctor. "That's right. Now sling your guns. Are you loaded?"

"Yes, father—bullet in one barrel, shot-cartridge in the other."

"Now then, mount. You follow us, and Griggs will bring up the rear."

"That's right," said Chris in a whisper. "We can make him talk to us and tell us about how he got on when he was travelling before."

The start was made, and as soon as the marshy part was cleared there was no need to ride in single file. The doctor allowed his two friends to come up abreast, and Griggs urged his pony forward to get between the boys.

"Here we are, then," he said cheerily. "Now we can have a palaver."

"About Indians," said Ned eagerly.

"Indians? Not a bit of it. We don't want any Indians. I say, nice thing to find when we get back that they had raided the camp and cleared off everything, mules and all."

"Oh, I say, Griggs," cried the boys together, "don't! It would be horrible. Why, part of us ought to stop and guard the camp."

"Either of you like the job?" said the American. Chris and Ned leaned so as to gaze across Griggs' pony in each other's eyes.

"Bah! They won't find it, even if there are any in this neighbourhood," cried the American. "Nice country, ain't it? Rather better than the desert."

"But isn't it a pity that we are not going right up the mountain to-day?"

"Like to go all the way?" said Griggs.

"Yes, I should," cried Chris eagerly. "I want to get the glass and look round. I think I could make out the mountains on the old map if I saw them."

"Very nice if you could," said Griggs dryly. "But it's early morning yet. You wait till afternoon, and then see if you wish the same. I think you'll fancy we've had enough of it for one day, and want to get back to camp for supper."

"Oh, I don't know," said Chris merrily. "I'm not always thinking of eating like Ned is."

"Eh? Oh, I say! I like that! Why, I never do."

"Didn't you grumble just now about the time when we should have nothing but meat and water? Here—I say—Griggs, what's that—I mean those? There's more than one."

"Yes; keep quiet. More than twenty, my lads."

"Not Indians, are they?" whispered Chris with bated breath.

"Where?—where?" panted Ned.

"Over yonder—half-a-mile away. You can just see their black heads above the grass. They're watching us."

"What, in that open grassy piece with those trees? Yes, I see now. I'll canter forward and tell them."

"No, no, sit still and go steadily on. I don't want 'em scared. It's a sight worth seeing. They're getting scarce now; nearly all have been shot up in the north."

"Yes, I know they're getting scarce up there," said Chris excitedly, while Ned's eyes began to open wider and wider. "But we ought to warn my father."

"Nay, I dare say he sees them by now."

"Shout to him in case he doesn't," said Chris excitedly.

"No, no," replied Griggs, who was shading his eyes to keep off the sun. "They'd hear us if I shouted, and be off at once."

"But I'm afraid they'll begin shooting."

"Who'll begin shooting?"

"Those Indians."

Griggs turned in his saddle to look wonderingly at the speaker, and then his features began to relax, but grew hard again at once, and he said quietly—

"Oh, I see—shoot at us. Why, they're doing that now, and making bulls'-eyes."

"What do you mean?" cried Chris sharply. "What have I said? Here, Ned, he's laughing at us."

"That I wasn't," cried Griggs. "I only nearly smiled. Why, do you mean to tell me that you don't know what those are?"

"Indians, aren't they? Blackheads or blackfeet—I don't know."

"That's very evident," said Griggs grimly. "Why, they're buffaloes— bisons, staring at us with their heads just above the grass."

"Oh-h-h!" cried Chris. "So they are."

"Then they mean beef," cried Ned excitedly.

"There, what did I say?" said Chris, laughing. "He's thinking about roast beef for dinner."

"Then he won't get any to-day," cried Griggs. "There they go; they've taken alarm."

"Oh!" cried Ned, as the black objects suddenly disappeared. "We ought to have shot one."

"They're all right," said Griggs coolly. "We know that there are buffaloes in this part of the country, and we can stalk one when we like. We don't want meat to-day. I say boys, we've only seen them, but we know now there's something else."

"What?" cried Ned.

"Wolves."

"How do you know?"

"Always are. They follow the bison-droves."

"But a great bull bison could easily kill a wolf."

"But a calf couldn't," said Griggs dryly. "They hang about after the droves so as to pull down the very young calves, and kill the mothers too, sometimes. Well, this is a good beginning, and I only hope we may find beef like this in our larder wherever we go, till we discover the old city."

"They haven't seen them," said Chris. "Shout and tell them, then, now." Chris gave a hail, and made the announcement.

"Where?" shouted Wilton excitedly.

"Out of sight now, sir," replied Griggs. "The grass is very high down in that hollow, but if you look towards those trees you may see what I can now, the tall grass waving as if something was plunging through it."

"I see them," said Bourne directly after.

"And I," cried Wilton. "Let's ride hard and cut them off."

But a word from the doctor checked him.

"Why not?" he said. "We shall want the food."

"Yes, sometime," said the doctor. "The buffaloes will not go far from such abundant pasture, with water close at hand. We can pick up a few birds as we come back, I dare say, enough for this evening and to-morrow. I want to get on as far as we can to-day and see for a new camping-place, as we agreed."

"That's right, sir," said Griggs. "If we stop to get a shot or two at those fellows they may lead us another way, and what with the shooting, skinning, and cutting up, we shall make such a hole in the morning that we must put off our exploring till to-morrow."

"Oh, very well," said Wilton, rather ungraciously; "but when we do want our joints, mark my words, we shall not be able to get a shot."

Griggs laughed and shook his head.

"Don't agree with you, Mr Wilton," he said. "There goes something else."

"Eh? Where?" cried Wilton.

"Through the tall grass yonder. I fancy it's deer of some kind; something small, but I can't see what it is."

"Whatever it may be," said the doctor, "it's running through the grass in the direction we are going. Look at the grass yonder, it's waving as something passes through."

But whatever it was they could not get a glimpse of it, though time after time, when they felt that the game had either been passed or had gone off to right or left, they saw the grass in motion again.

Then it stopped altogether, and the grass began to grow shorter before them, the longer beds being down to their right where the land sloped down, and they here and there caught the glint of water.

"Why, we must be following up the bed of an underground river," said Bourne, "and this keeps breaking out from time to time, forming quite a chain of little lakes. Yes, there, look; those must be ducks."

"Ducks they are," cried Griggs, as a little flock rose cackling from somewhere away to their right and skimmed along over the top of some waving reed-beds, but far out of shot.

"Another proof that we shall not starve," said the doctor, as they rode slowly on, with the grass in places reaching to their saddle-bows. "Let's strike away to the left here," he continued. "I fancy the ground is drier. It is certainly wetter down to the right there, and the grass longer."

He was quite right, for by bearing off a little they found at the end of about half-a-mile that their progress had grown more and more easy, the grass now only reaching to their stirrup-irons, while away further to their left it was shorter still, looking quite lawn-like in the distance.

"We're a good deal higher than we were at the camp, aren't we?" asked Bourne.

"Certainly, and far-off as we are we certainly seem to be approaching the mountain by a gradual slope."

"And that chain of pools and swamps is something of a river or stream that comes down from one of the valleys yonder. Hallo! look out!"

Every one present had already been put on the qui vive by a quick rustling in front, followed by a loud whirring sound, as some half-a-dozen birds, which they had evidently been driving before them through the long grass in which they had kept out of sight, had now found themselves too much exposed in the shorter herbage and taken flight.

"Big partridges—monsters!" cried Chris excitedly.

"Yes," said the doctor dryly; "the most monstrous partridges I ever saw, Chris. Why, they're turkeys, boy. They're making for those trees yonder across the pools, eh, Griggs?"

"That's right, sir. They'd be worth stalking too, but I don't think we could follow them through that swamp. I dare say, though, that we could get a shot at them some other day. Might perhaps as we come back."

"We'll be ready for them then," said the doctor quietly. "Now then, the ground's firm, and the grass getting shorter; let's try a canter."

He pressed his pony's sides and led off, the rest following in single file now, with the ground slowly rising, the grass getting shorter and shorter, till at the end of about half-an-hour the doctor reached the bottom of a mound, drew rein, and let his mount walk to the summit, where he halted for his companions to join him and drink in the soft cool air as yet unheated by the ardent sun.

The next few minutes were spent in sweeping the country round, and in a very short time they were pretty well acquainted with their position. For right away forward and to their left the grass grew shorter and shorter for a couple of miles, till it looked more than ever like some lawn whose soft green grew greyer and greyer till it was of a dull shimmering white.

"A great lake," cried Chris.

"Try again, my boy," said his father.

"'Tisn't salt desert, is it?" said the boy.

"Breathe in the air that is coming from it, my lad."

"Hot and dry," cried Chris excitedly. "That's why I was getting so warm. I thought it was from riding so fast."

"We're skirting the edge of the desert," said the doctor, using his glass. "Yes, as far as I can see it is all tableland that way; the grass soon ends, and all is dusty sand with the air quivering over it as it sweeps away towards the mountain chain, while this way to the right the grass and trees seem to run up green and beautiful into the hills, which widen out into a valley."

"Can you see water, sir?"

"Yes," said the doctor, scanning the land to his right and away forward; "water in two places. Our course is plain enough—to keep along here at the edge of the great plain where the grass is short and the ground firm. We are on a dividing line between the bad land and the rich park-like patches and the pools and swamp. This ought to take us into the valley yonder and to one of those hills where we can camp in what must be a good hunting country. Forward!"

They cantered on, drawing rein now and then to breathe their horses, to find that the desert land with its quivering layer of air grew more clearly marked on one side, the country more beautiful and park-like, diversified by hill and dale, on the other, and away in front the mighty peak looking as distant as ever, but with its features more plainly defined.

Twice over they came to a halt, the first time being at the edge of a narrow lake which resembled a piece cut off from a tolerably wide river, whose ends had been filled up by the growth of reeds.

Noon was long past, but the air was so fresh and invigorating and their level track so easy to follow, that the doctor decided upon pushing on again for another couple of hours, before making a final halt for refreshment, and then turning back.

This final stoppage was beneath a clump of fairly grown trees whose boughs formed a goodly shade from the westering sun, and all revelled in the beauty of the view forward as they partook of their scanty meal.

"Glorious!" said the doctor at last. "We can't do better than make our way up here to-morrow. The journey for the mules will be easy enough if we bear more to the left, and they ought to get up here by night."

The others agreed, Griggs being full of approbation.

"And two days will easily take us right up the slope of that mountain. Shouldn't wonder, if we started early enough, if we did it in one. But hadn't we better be going back now, sir?"

"Yes, at once," said the doctor. "Can you pick up our trail now and then, only leaving it when we can cut off some of the way?"

"I shouldn't wonder if I could, sir," was the reply. "I'll try."

"That's right; but we must spread-out a little, and be on the lookout for a shot or two, so as to have something to cook when we reach camp."

"Partridges, father," said Chris, unslinging his gun.

"Yes," said the doctor, smiling; "we ought to get one or two of those monsters if we get a chance."

But, as Wilton had suggested, now that they wanted something in the way of game, nothing was to be seen, and they were fully half-way back and the evening coming on fast, but with the moon well up ready to give its light as the sun went down, before there was a fair chance. They had seen partridges again, and sent a flock of ducks skimming over the reeds, but in both cases they had risen far out of shot.

"We must get more into the longer grass," said Griggs at last. "We shall get something then, and as soon as we've got enough we can bear off again into the short, and canter."

It proved to be good advice, for about half-an-hour later, when they had been compelled by the thickness of the growth to proceed at a walk, Griggs, who was in front, suddenly turned in his saddle.

"Come more into line," he said; "there is something on in front waiting to be flushed."

The evolution was made, and the six ponies went steadily on through the dense growth with a loud rustling sound, while from time to time a glimpse was obtained of the waving green surface being agitated not far in front, plainly showing that they were driving something before them.

"Which way will they go, Griggs, when we flush them?" said the doctor.

"I don't see any trees to the left, sir, or they'd fly for them; so I fancy they'll rise and make for the open plain yonder. It looks quite clear, and if we don't bring any down when they rise we ought to canter out after them and get a shot there, or ride them down."

"Too long a task, as it's getting so late."

"Oh no, sir; they're very heavy birds. But I don't like this; we're getting into longer grass and—down—dismount—quick, every one—quick!"

Nobody stopped to ask why, but obeyed one whom they knew to be the most experienced member of the party, and his tone of voice was so eager and intense that all thought the time had come for a good shot, as dropping from their saddles they stood ready to fire over their ponies' heads.

"Well, where's the game?" said the doctor, after a few moments' silence.

"Here, sir," said Griggs hoarsely. "We're it if we've been seen."

"What do you mean?"

"Look yonder, sir, over the grass out towards the desert where there's that golden shimmer above the plain."

"I don't see—yes, I do. Stoop, stoop, every one, or we shall be seen, if it isn't too late."

There was a quick movement amongst the party, every head being lowered— every one stooping a little to peer over the level top of the grass, to see as it were a panorama of black figures moving along a golden band, a party of some thirty or forty mounted Indians walking their ponies in single file, as if going in the same direction as the explorers, and not a quarter of a mile away.

"Haven't they seen us, Griggs?" whispered the doctor.

"Don't know yet, sir," said the American, "but if they haven't they must be half blind. Yes, they've seen us, for certain, I should say, and they're bearing inward so as to cut us off."



CHAPTER TWENTY.

DANGEROUS NEIGHBOURS.

Chris's heart beat fast, and as he glanced at Ned he could see that there was a peculiar look in his eyes and strain in his countenance which suggested discomfort, if not fear.

But all this was momentary. There was something else to think about beside how his companion looked, especially his father's words, for the doctor suddenly whispered—

"Keep close everybody, and have your rifles ready when they come on. Mind, no one is to fire till I give the order, and then all together. Give them the right-hand barrels, loaded with shot, a scattering volley right into the midst. That ought to scare them and make them turn about and gallop off."

"And if they don't?" said Wilton, in a hoarse whisper.

"Give them the bullets then, and let every one be carefully aimed, for we shall be fighting for our lives."

"They can't have seen us," thought Chris then, for though the Indians were drawing nearer and nearer, they did not seem to be searching the long grass as if they feared danger, but came on in a line, each man, as could be plainly-seen now, with his rein lying loosely upon his horse's neck, his hands being occupied in holding a short bow with an arrow fitted to the string ready for drawing to the head and launching.

"Why, they can't see us," thought Chris again, for as the low-down sun struck nearly horizontally it lit up the enemies' eyes in a peculiar way, showing their transparency, and at the same time it seemed to the boy that as they came on in line at a walk they were looking in advance of where his party were waiting.

The next minute all was made clear, for the line of Indians advanced obliquely towards the long grass till the leading man came almost in touch a couple of hundred yards in advance, when all at once there was the wild whirr of wings, and about a couple of dozen great birds sprang into the air.

The next instant there was a peculiar dull twanging sound, followed by the fall of heavy bodies, a wild yell, and the galloping off of the enemy out into the open after the retreating flock. But three of the savages reined in, leaped from their horses, and leaving them began to seek amongst the strands of the tall grass, their search being rewarded by the discovery of four heavy turkeys, two of which were quite dead, but the others kept on flapping their wings heavily, their beautiful coppery bronze plumage gleaming brightly in the sun, till a heavy blow or two gave them their quietus, when the Indians began to twist up some of the grass, to tie the birds' legs together tightly so that a couple of the fierce-looking fellows could hang them across their ponies' necks.

This done, amidst a good deal of grinning and gabbling perfectly incomprehensible to the listeners, the Indians mounted again and sat gazing with shaded eyes across the grassy plain, till, apparently satisfied of the direction their companions had taken, one of them uttered a deep-toned Hugh! and rode off, followed by the rest.

"What an escape!" sighed the doctor, after waiting till the party was well out of hearing. "It is marvellous that they did not see us."

"They had no eyes for that, sir," said Griggs. "They expected to find turkey, and they were too much on the watch for the birds to be looking for us. They had no suspicion of our being near."

"But the wretches have carried off our supplies," said Ned bitterly.

"Hallo! What's that?" said Chris, as a flapping noise was heard in the grass.

He did not wait for an answer to his question, but forced his way through the grass towards the spot whence the sound had come.

"Look out," he shouted, for there was a beating of wings, and a big bird rose from close to his right-hand, passing out of his reach, but not to escape, for the next moment there was a dull thud and a fall, for as it passed over him Griggs had struck at it with his rifle-barrel, breaking its wing.

The fall was followed by a repetition of the beating which had first taken the boy's attention.

"I thought that wasn't the one I heard," he cried, and pushing forward he literally threw himself upon another of the birds, lying in the thick grass and frantically beating its wings with such violence that it levelled the grass for some distance round.

"Take care," cried the doctor warningly; "they can strike very hard with their wings."

"I've found that out," grumbled Chris bitterly, as he winced from a couple of blows, but retaliated with such vigorous action by means of the butt of his rifle that the beating ceased, the great bird's head fell over, and the prize lay inert.

"Splendid!" cried Wilton and Bourne in a breath, as, hot and panting, Chris dragged his capture to where his companions stood watching the encounter.

"They did not take much pains about retrieving their game," said the doctor.

"Sign that it's too plentiful for them to need it, sir," said Griggs, laughing. "I say; they're not bad shots, to bring a lot like that down flying. Six birds out of one flock, with bows and arrows too."

"There were such a lot of them to shoot, though," said Chris, "and the birds were all quite together. I say, Ned, look at this arrow. Gone right through the neck.—Think they'll come back to look for more, father?"

"No," was the reply. "I can just see them under the sun, riding right away. We might go on now slowly if we keep in the thick grass."

The word was given, and all mounted, but not until Griggs had followed the Indians' example of tying the two birds' legs together and swinging them across his saddle-bow, Chris's proposal to carry his own capture being negatived on the declaration that it would be much easier for two to be carried together than one.

"You'll get your supper after all, Ned," said Chris, after they had been riding slowly on through the grass as near to their trail as could be guessed, for it was still considered advisable to keep as much under cover as possible, the Indians' sense of sight being well known to be very acute.

"There, you needn't try to joke about that," was the reply, in a weary, querulous tone. "You're as fond of good things as I am."

"Never said I wasn't," cried Chris, laughing. "But I say, Griggs, we must have one of those for supper to-night, no matter how late we are."

"All right," said the American. "I begin to feel as if I can pick a bit myself; but you won't like raw turkey, will you?"

"Haw? Nonsense! We must make a good fire, and frizzle bits over the embers."

"A good fire, to show the Indians where we've made our camp?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Chris. "I never thought of that," and he was silent for a few minutes, but only to break out again with, "We shall be too far off for any Indians to see, for we've got many miles to go yet to camp."

"And we can make our fire in the shelter of the trees," added Ned. "That'll be all right. But I say, Griggs, you ought to begin picking one of the birds at once, so as to be ready when we get back."

"To be sure," said Griggs; "capital idea. You're a nice fellow to take care of yourself out in an Indian country!"

"What do you mean?" cried Ned.

"Preparing a trail for the savages to follow."

"I don't understand you."

"What! Didn't you propose that I should begin plucking the turkey and sprinkling the feathers about as we go? Nice trail for the brutes to follow. Why, if they picked it up they'd come along at a gallop."

"Yes," said the doctor, who had heard a part of the conversation; "we shall have to be very cautious till we get right away from the district the Indians haunt."

The night was coming on fast, for the twilight which had followed the disappearance of the sun was brief; but as the evening passed away, the moon which had looked pale and wan began to grow more and more silvery, till it was dazzling in the pure bright air, casting the riders' shadows on the rustling grass and making their way easy.

The stars were beginning to glitter too, and pool after pool was passed which looked as if it were dotted with points of light.

It was a glorious ride, and not without incident. Wherever there was water the fowl which frequented the marshy pools could be heard feeding, and the wild cries of the animals which haunted the far-spreading plain came frequently to the ear, while the sharp yelping barks, or the long, low-drawn wails like those of jackals and the dismally weird snapping shout of the prairie wolf came plainly from far away where the salt bush was known to be plentiful.

Every now and then too some owl came hawking by on silent wing, fixing its great eyes upon one or other of the party as it swooped past. Twice over Griggs paused in doubt as to their course, for the crushed-down grass trampled by the ponies was at times hard to trace in the moonlight; but he was not long in picking up the trail again, and at last the camp was reached, with everything looking just as it had been left that morning, while the mules were still grazing, apparently as hungry as ever, though a little closer observation proved they were picking and choosing amongst the youngest and juiciest twigs.

"Hah!" sighed Ned, dropping wearily from his pony. "Now for a good fire and some of that turkey, Griggs."

"Eh? Didn't you hear what the doctor said just now when he came up alongside?"

"No," said Ned anxiously; "what? That I was not to light the fire?"

"No, nor any one else, lad. He said that no fire was to be lit to-night, and that we must all make shift with a bite of what we left in camp this morning."

"Oh!" groaned Ned, so dismally that Chris was not too weary to forget his own disappointment and laugh and chuckle with delight at his companion's discomfiture.

But that was not the only disappointment, for as soon as the ponies had been unsaddled and freed from their bits, to be turned loose for a roll and graze, Griggs, who had been to examine the provender, came back to announce that there was none to examine.

"What!" cried the boys in a breath. "Why, we left plenty for a cold supper."

"Yes," said Griggs, "but the jackals, or wolves, or whatever they were, haven't."

"You don't mean to say—" began Chris, who felt far from mirthful now.

"Yes, I do; they've been here and cleared out everything."

"But no fire, no turkey, no tea," cried Ned. "What are we to do?"

"Just as the mustangs have, my lad; have a good long drink, a roll, and then—"

"We can't graze," cried Chris.

"No, but we can take it out in sleep."



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

ON THE TRAIL.

It was horribly disappointing in their hungry and weary state, but it was no time for finding fault.

"Roll yourselves up in your blankets, boys, and go to sleep," said Griggs.

"Is that what you are going to do?" said Chris dismally.

"No," was the reply; "I'm going to have the first watch."

"First watch?" said Chris, staring.

"Yes, and your father is going to relieve me at the end of four hours."

"But—watch? What for?"

"Because there are Indians about. You don't suppose we could leave the camp unguarded at a time like this, do you?"

"I—I never thought about it," stammered Chris. "Did you, Ned?"

"Of course not. But is it necessary?"

"If you want to take care of your scalp, yes, my lad," said the American dryly.

"Oh, but—" began Chris.

"You think there's no risk, eh? Well, perhaps it's not quite so bad as that, but we don't want to wake up and find that the mules and horses have been swept off in the night. There, lie down and sleep. Whoever has the morning watch will wake you up to a good fire and such a breakfast as will make up for your cold water supper. Well—why don't you lie down?—Here: stop! What are you going to do?"

"Going to speak to father."

"No, no, don't disturb him. I dare say he's asleep by now."

"He can't be," replied Chris sturdily; "there hasn't been time."

"What!" cried Griggs, laughing. "Not time? Well, come with me and look; I'll be bound to say he is. But what do you want to say to him?"

Chris hesitated to answer, but the American pressed him, and the boy spoke out.

"I only wanted to tell him that I didn't want to be such a selfish pig as to go to sleep and leave him to keep watch."

"Oh!" said Griggs gravely.

"And to say that I was going to order you to wake me when the four hours are up, and I'd go on duty."

"I see," said Griggs. "Well, come along; he's over there by the packs; but promise me if he's asleep that you will not waken him."

Chris hesitated for a moment or two, and then promised unwillingly, the boys following the American softly to where the heavy breathing of three sleepers could be plainly heard.

"There," said Griggs, leading them back; "are you satisfied?"

"Yes," replied Chris. "They haven't been long going off."

"Do you know how long it takes a tired man to go to sleep, my lad?"

"No. I never noticed."

"Just about as long sometimes as it takes him to shut his eyes."

"Nonsense!"

"And sometimes not so long, for he's asleep before they're shut."

"Old Griggs is making this up, Ned," said Chris.

"No, he isn't, my lad, for I've seen it; and I tell you what I've often seen too—a man go off fast asleep on horseback. There, now lie down and get your own share."

"I wish I'd told father."

"Tell him in the morning over your breakfast, when you're eating frizzled bird. Now then, no more talking."

"I haven't done yet," said Chris stubbornly, and now feeling wonderfully wide awake. "Look here, I'm not going to have father woke up in four hours. He's more tired than I am, and you are going to wake me to take your place."

"No, I'm not, boy."

"Yes, you are. I order you to," said Chris.

"Are you boss of this expedition?"

"You know I'm not."

"Who is, then?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," said Chris irritably. "You know: father."

"That's right, and he gave the orders of the night—that I was to watch four hours before calling him, and I was to see that all was right in the camp. Now then, you're kicking up a disturbance instead of going to sleep and resting yourself so that you may be useful in the morning."

"But, Griggs—"

"You obey orders, sir," said the man sternly. "Do you want to wreck the expedition by breaking rules?"

"No."

"Then go to sleep."

"But I can't sleep now."

"Then lie down and keep awake."

"Yes, I'll do that," said Chris, spreading out his blanket. "Come on, Ned; we'll lie down and wait till he calls father, and then we'll talk to him and get him to lie down again while we take his watch. Will you?"

"Of course," said Ned eagerly.

"Hah! That's better," said Griggs. "Now you're talking sensibly. It doesn't do to oppose your captain at a time like that. Well rolled up, both of you?"

"Yes," was the reply, from the ground where the boys were seated.

"Better lie down, my lads; you'll keep warmer. There's a chilly wind coming down from the mountains with a bite of frost in it."

"Very well, then:—there!" said Chris peevishly.

Griggs did not speak then, but stood with his rifle-butt upon the ground and his hands resting on the muzzle for a few minutes, before he began to shake.

But it was not from cold. It was with perfectly silent mirth, as he said to himself—

"I honestly believe that they were both asleep as soon as their heads touched the ground."

Then after a pause, during which he had been slowly and watchfully gazing about him in every direction, his thoughts came back to the sleepers at his feet.

"I like that," he thought, "for it was all real and plucky and true. Not a bit of sham in it. He meant it all, and he meant to go to his father when it was time for me to call him in nearly four hours' time. But nature's too strong for him. He won't wake up, and I shan't rouse him. It will be the doctor who does that."

It was the doctor, and directly after—at least, so it seemed to Chris, who opened his eyes to stare at his father, and then at the fire crackling and smoking in a sheltered spot among the nearest bushes and trees.

"Why, it's to-morrow morning," cried the boy excitedly.

"Ah, that's what you ought to have said last night, my boy," said the doctor, laughing, as he pressed Ned's side with his toe. "Come, Ned, lad: breakfast."

Ned sprang up as sharply as if he had been kicked.

"Eh? What?" he cried.—"Oh! We've been to sleep."

"Of course you have," said the doctor. "You lay down to sleep, didn't you?"

"No, father; we lay down to keep awake till it was time to call you," cried Chris.

"Ah, yes, I know. Griggs told me; but you didn't keep awake. Now then, go and have a wash, and then come and help me do some cooking. Be sharp."

"One moment, father. Have you heard or seen any Indians?"

"No, not one. And look here; you'll be attending to the fire when you come back; don't make it up with green wood, but pick up the pieces of the dry and dead. I don't want more smoke than we can possibly help to be rising up above the trees. Now: off!"

There was water near at hand, but no time to undress for a swim, and the boys were soon back, with the stiffness produced by the previous day's exertion dying out before the bright buoyancy produced by a sound sleep in the beautiful cool, elastic air, while the feeling of ravenous appetite that began to attack them made their task of shifting wooden fresh green spits, rather than skewers, laden with pieces of bird, from place to place, where they could catch most heat from the glowing embers, one that was tantalisingly hard.

There was bread-cake, too, in the hot ashes, and water boiling in the big tin, ready for the tea to be thrown in, and very soon afterwards the whole party were restoring strength over as delicious a breakfast as could fall to the lot of hungry men and boys, who never once troubled themselves at the want of milk, a table, or chairs.

"Now," said the doctor at last, "the sooner we're off the better; so pack up."

"Do you mean to follow our yesterday's trail?" said Bourne.

"Certainly," said the doctor. "There is only that, or to go back; and we can't do that."

"Certainly not," came in chorus.

"But is it not possible to take some other line, on account of the Indians?" said Wilton.

"No," said the doctor and Griggs, almost together.

"If we strike off over the open land it means desert, and we shall be full in sight of Indians if they came near," said Griggs.

"And if we strike in through the long grass we shall go more and more into the bed of the unseen river, with the marshes to stop us before we can get far."

"I see," said Wilton. "Off for the mountains, then. Yes, that's the only way."

Half-an-hour later the little train was steadily advancing, the mules making light of their loads, and proving by their playfulness—which took the form of a disposition to bite or kick every one of their fellows within reach—that they were thoroughly rested, refreshed, and ready for as much work as would be demanded of their sturdy legs.

A sharp lookout was kept to their left over the open country as the leading mule was steered, as he called it, by Griggs, close in to the high grass, which acted as a screen against which they would have been hardly seen; but nothing alarming appeared in the distance, and no footprints of man and horse other than their own in the soft soil showed that any enemy had crossed their trail to make for the hunting-grounds to their right.

But night came on ere the slow pace of the laden mules had covered the distance the explorers had got over by the previous afternoon, and there the little caravan was guided right into a sheltered valley to the borders of an elongated pool, where, well hidden from the plain, preparations were made for their next camp.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

BEAR AND BUFFALO.

Distance is illusive in the clear atmosphere of high mountain lands, and it took two days longer than had been calculated before a position well upon the slope of the giant peak was reached—a grand shelf, covered with verdure close to where a sparkling stream gushed out of a patch of rocks and made a leap of fully a hundred feet down into a rift, along which it gurgled musically beneath a rainbow-like arch of ever-changing beauty on its way to the plain below.

A more beautiful spot could not have been selected for the camp, presenting as it did shelter, shade, a comprehensive view of the country for probably a hundred miles round, and of the valleys that ran down and opened out from the mountain side into the plains, so that the presence of enemies could be made out and favourable parts selected for finding game.

But Chris was not satisfied, and Ned expressed his disapprobation plainly to Griggs.

"I thought we were going right up to the top of the peak," he said. "This isn't more than a quarter the way."

"It's as far as we could get the mules and ponies by now," replied the American. "What do you want to go up higher for?"

"Why, to see, of course," cried Ned.

"You're a hard one to satisfy," said Griggs. "There's hundreds of times as much down yonder as you can see anyhow. Besides, do you know how it would be if you climbed higher?"

"Splendid."

"No it wouldn't," said Griggs. "It would be so cold you couldn't bear it."

"What, up there in the blazing sunshine?"

"Yes, up there in the blazing sunshine. That only lasts till sundown; after that ice would be forming in the water-bottles, while the wind would be so cold that you couldn't bear it. We should want bearskin coats," added Griggs meaningly, as he sheltered his eyes from the sun's glare.

He and the boys had climbed, after helping with the camping arrangements, some three or four hundred feet above the shelf, armed with the doctor's glass.

"We could keep ourselves warm enough, I dare say," said Ned surlily, for the ponies had been walked up the final portion of that day's journey so as to relieve them of their loads.

"Strikes me," said Griggs, "that this place will about do for a couple of weeks, and then we can get right round to the other side for a day or two to see what we can make out there."

"I should say we had better start right off there to-morrow," said Chris, after taking a comprehensive glance round. "How far can I see, do you think?"

"From here? Why, big things a hundred miles off, I dare say."

"Then it's all a failure, so far," said Chris; "there's no sign of the mountains on the map. This is not the right part."

"I didn't expect it would be," said the American coolly.

"Then why did we come?" cried Chris.

"Just to make sure, my lad. That's the sort of thing we shall have to do: keep on trying, and always expecting we are not right."

"Oh!" cried Ned impatiently.

"Ah, you may 'Oh,' my lad, but that's the way to succeed. We shall go about to hundreds of places before we've done, and out of those hundreds there's only one can be right, and it isn't natural to expect that it will be ready for us at the start. There's no hurry."

"No hurry?" cried the boy, staring.

"Not a bit. You chaps are a long way off twenty yet, and if you find the gold city before you're seventy you'll do well."

"Hark at him!" cried Chris merrily. "Griggs turned philosopher. What about you then? You're past thirty."

"Ever so much," said the American, "but I don't mind if I never find it. This life's quite good enough for me."

"Do you mean to tell me that you don't want to find the old city?" cried Chris.

"No, of course not. I should like to find it, my lads, and be a rich man; but I shan't break my heart if we never go near the place. We shall have travelled half over America and seen plenty of the country. That's good enough for a man who only wants to live."

"You're a rum chap, Griggs," said Chris.

"I am, my lad, but I can't help it. Now, let's see: we came up here to see what there was to be seen, and you wanted to go up higher."

"And you said we should want bearskin coats."

"To be sure I did," without moving a muscle. "Well, there's one over yonder."

"A bearskin coat?" cried Ned. "Nonsense! Bearskin coats don't grow on trees."

"Thank you for the information," said Griggs, "but tell me something else; I knew that."

"Tell us something else," cried Ned. "A bearskin coat on the mountain side! Where?"

"Over yonder, I tell you, with the gentleman it belongs to wearing it. A splendid fit too, I should say, but it's too far off to make sure."

The boys involuntarily cocked their pieces, as Chris said excitedly—

"A man in a bearskin coat—an Indian?"

"Oh no. Can't you see him?"

"No! Where?"

"Look yonder across that bare slope that glistens in the sun as if the rock were granite."

"Yes, I see where you mean—a little higher up than we are."

"That's right. Now, just above it there's a patch of green running up to the fir-trees, all low bushes sprinkled about with the rocks between."

"Yes," said Chris, "I can see that too. Well?"

"Look, look, Chris," cried Ned; "I can see it now—there, just crossing from one lot of bushes to another. There it goes."

"Yes, I see now. Why, you mean wool, Griggs. It's a mountain-sheep.— No, it isn't," cried Chris excitedly; "it's a bear."

"Yes, all alive, oh! and in his skin coat."

"And quite beyond reach, unless we stalk him. I say, Griggs, how lucky! Is that a grizzly?"

"Oh, no; they're twice as big. That's only a brown bear."

"But is he coming after our mules?"

"Not he. He's hunting for wild fruit—berries and things of that sort."

"Then it's not a dangerous one?"

"Not if you leave him alone. He'd show fight, though, I dare say, if you went after him."

"Let's climb higher up and get above him. We can easily get a shot at him then," said Chris.

"Do you want his skin?" said Griggs.

"No."

"Well, you wouldn't care about eating him, though bear ham isn't bad."

"Oh, we don't want to eat him," cried Ned, watching the movements of the brute eagerly.

"You don't want his fat to make bear's grease for your hair, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Then I'd leave him alone. We've plenty of ammunition now, but we don't want to waste any."

"But suppose he had been a grizzly?" said Chris, bringing the glass to bear on the distant animal.

"If it had been a grizzly I should say the best thing would be to let him alone, and the same with a cinnamon, for they're very dangerous beasts. If either of them came smelling after the mules or ponies of course it would be a different thing. There wouldn't be room enough for him and us too on the same mountain side. Well! he's gone, hasn't he?"

"Yes, right up amongst the fir-trees."

"Ah, he'll be much safer there," said Griggs. "You fellows would be tempted to have a shot at him if he came within reach. Now then, lend me the glass."

The binocular was handed to him, and while the two lads stood watching the woodland patch where the bear had disappeared, in expectation of its coming into sight again, the American stood sweeping the horizon and then bringing the glass to bear upon the wondrous view in every direction where he could bring mountain, valley, hill, and plain into the field of the glass.

He had turned slowly till he was gazing in the direction from which they had come, leaving what looked like a band of deep green, to bring the glass to bear upon the pale ash-coloured desert part, which rapidly brightened into silvery grey, and from that became like the sea, half-hidden by a soft haze which died away into the sky-line.

Quite ten minutes must have passed away, the boys having been too much occupied with the bear to heed their companion, when Ned said in a disappointed tone—

"Gone! I should have liked to shoot that bear."

"And had his skin," said Chris. "But look at Griggs," he added, in a whisper; "he can see something.—What are you looking at?" cried the boy, aloud.

"That patch far away over the salt plain. You can't see it with the naked eye.—Yes: I can, but it only looks like a shadow. Here, try the glass."

He handed the binocular to the boy, who looked but could see nothing till his companion had given him a hint or two to follow an imaginary line upward from one of the eminences below.

Chris caught the object sought then.

"Yes," he cried, "I see. Why, it's a herd of buffalo!"

"Try again," said Griggs.

"Yes: a herd of buffalo," said Chris, lowering his glass and trying to fix the object with his eyes. "I can see it without the glass. Just like a cloud-shadow in the glistening, heaving plain, and moving slowly. I shouldn't have thought that buffalo would be seen on a dry place like that."

"Let me look," cried Ned, and after a try or two he caught the object visible through the glass.

"Yes, buffalo," he said, "and they're moving slowly."

"Coming this way?" said Griggs.

"I can't hold the glass steadily enough to make sure. Yes, I can see now; they're not coming straight for here, but they seem to be sloping across as if to get to the rich grass. That must be it, I think."

"Very likely," said Griggs quietly. "Hunting."

"Yes, hunting for grass," said Chris. "Let's have another look, Ned."

He caught the glass and took a long look at the dimly-seen distant patch on the plain, to cry decisively without lowering the instrument—

"Yes; you're quite right, Ned. Why, they must be miles away. I should never have seen them. What eyes you have, Griggs!"

"Been used more than yours have, lad, and that has made them a bit keener, I suppose. Try again, and see whether you can see buffalo."

"Yes," said Chris, after a long pause, "buffalo, and they're coming what you call it—diagonally across the country."

"That's right," said Griggs; "but they're not buffalo."

"What then? They're too big to be wolves."

"Yes," said Griggs coolly; "it's a big band of mounted Indians. Come down, quick."

The news they had to carry was too important to admit of delay, and the little party hurried down to camp, where fortunately as soon as the doctor had brought the glass to bear he was able to announce that the Indians were not visible from the sheltered nook that had been chosen on account of the trees and rocks around.

"It's fortunate for us that they have no telescope in their civilisation," said Bourne.

"Ah, but they have far sharper eyes than we have, sir," said Griggs. "What do you mean to do, doctor?"

"Send you up above again with the glass while we get the animals together ready for a start if it should prove necessary. The enemy are miles away yet."

"Yes, sir, and it's hardly likely that they will come up here unless they see us or hit upon our trail. What do you say to the boys taking the glass up higher? You'll want me."

"Very well," replied the doctor. "Go up, boys, and while one keeps his eyes upon their movements, the other can act as messenger and come and tell us whether the situation gets better or worse."

The two lads started at once, eager to undertake the task like men, but in five minutes they were back like boys.

"What is it?" said the doctor eagerly. "Are the Indians coming on?"

"No, father," said Chris, hesitating, for he stopped short, and Bourne looked anxiously at his son.

"You two have not been disagreeing?" he said sharply.

"No, father, not disagreeing," said Ned, "but—"

"Come, out with it," cried the doctor sternly. "Why have you both come back?"

"We've come back for orders, father," said Chris, with a sharp look at Ned.

"I thought I had given you full explanation as to what I wish you to do," said the doctor.

"Not quite, father. You left something out."

"What is it? Quick; we have no time to spare."

"You didn't say which of us was to have the glass and do the looking out."

The doctor uttered a low angry sound which had he been a dog would have been called a growl, before saying firmly—

"Ned is to use the glass, and you are to be messenger, for your words and tone say plainly enough that you have been stickling for your right to the glass, when you should at such a time of emergency have been ready to give up for the sake of all. Off with you."

"Serve you right," said Ned, as they climbed quickly up towards the place from whence they had first seen the Indians. "If it had been my father's glass I'd have given up in a moment instead of laying claim to it."

Chris was silent, and involuntarily he touched both of his cheeks, as if to feel whether they were as hot outside as they were in.

He found them hotter, and they grew hotter still by the time they had reached their lookout, creeping to it during the last fifty yards and keeping behind stones and bushes and every other bit of cover in their way. "Wo-ho!" cried Chris cheerily then, as he lay on his chest looking down towards the salt plain, with the nettled feeling dying out fast. "Come on; you can see capitally from here."

"Oh!" cried Ned sharply.—"Here, catch hold."

As he spoke he held out the glass.

"What's the matter?"

"Something in my right eye.—I can't see."

He was rubbing it violently, and it certainly looked red and inflamed.

"Got something in it?"

"Yes, a fly or a bit of dust, or else I've rubbed it too hard. You must look out, and I'll take the messages."

"Father's orders were that you should use the glass and I was to take the messages."

"Yes, I know," cried Ned irritably, "but who's to use a glass with a fly in his eye?"

"Lie down and turn over. I'll take it out with a bit of grass," said Chris gruffly.

"No, no, catch hold of the glass and don't waste time. I shall be able to rub it out directly."

"Better let me wipe it out gently with the strand of grass. I shan't hurt you."

"Yes, you will. Eye's such a tender part. I know; I'll pull the lid up and look at the sun. Then it'll water horribly, and wash the fly away."

"No, it won't," said Chris.

"What!—How do you know?"

"Because it isn't a fly."

"What!" cried Ned, whose cheeks were scarlet, as much as could be seen for one hand held over the closed eye.

"You heard what I said," cried Chris. "It isn't a fly."

"What is it, then?" said Ned, who kept on rubbing hard at the inflamed part. "A bit of grit or dust?"

"No, it's a fib, and it's in both your eyes."

"What?"

"There, don't keep on whating about it. I can see it quite plainly."

"Don't talk nonsense," cried Ned hurriedly. "Can't you see how it hurts me?"

"Yes; but you needn't have told a cram about it."

"What should I tell an untruth for?" cried Ned hotly.

"Because you wanted to cheat me into using the glass because you thought I was hurt and disappointed."

"I tell you one of my eyes smarts horribly."

"Of course it does—stuffing your knuckles into it and rubbing like that. There, focus the glass and look out."

"I can't see clearly with my right eye, Chris, honour bright. Catch hold."

"If a fellow tells you a fib once, you don't believe him next time."

"What do you want me to say to make you believe me? It does hurt, really."

"Say there was no fly in the case, to begin with."

"Will you use the glass if I do?"

"If you can make me believe that you can't see well."

"Look, then," cried Ned, and he dropped his hand, to open his right eye, which was quite bloodshot, "Now, is it likely that I can see steadily with that aching and watering so that I'm half blind?"

"No," said Chris quietly, and he took the glass and began to focus it on a distant object. "Now, own up; you did rub that hard on purpose?"

Ned was silent.

"I'm going to give you the glass back," cried Chris.

"No, you're not; and you're going to have a good look out. But I say, mind; don't let the sun shine on the glass, or the Indians may see the flash. Pull out the sunshades."

"I have," said Chris, taking a long look out in the direction of the enemy.

"See 'em?"

"No. All's clear there."

"Take a good long sweep round and keep watching till you find out where the Indians are. I'm going down to the bottom of the fall to bathe my eye. It is bad."

"Make haste, then."

"All right. Call or whistle when you see them. I shall hear you."

Chris nodded and grunted, and then went on examining every part of the plain below, but without result, and he thought and muttered to himself the while.

"He needn't have told a fib over it. Now, I wonder where those red niggers are.—He might have known that I should see through him at once.—A nigger can't be red. That's stupid.—It was rather nice of old Ned, though. I'm afraid I shouldn't have done as much for him.—They must have gone in amongst the grass and trees somewhere about there. I wish I could see them. But I don't think they're after us—only hunting."

He lay stretched out on his chest, slowly moving the glass so that he could sweep the edge of the plain; but the time went on, and the mounted party might, after all, have been a cloud-shadow for all the sign that he could see, and at last he began to grow weary and think of whistling to Ned to come up to him.

"He ought to have been back again by now."

The words had hardly been muttered before Chris started, for a hand was laid upon his leg.

"See 'em?"

"No. I was just going to whistle. How's your eye?"

"Getting all right again now. But you ought to be able to see the enemy. Have you looked well?"

For answer Chris began to shuffle himself back, moving on hands and toes till he was level with Ned.

"Looked well? Of course. Here, you catch hold and have a good look yourself.—Ah! Don't you say another word about that eye, or we shall fall out. I know: you've bathed it well, and it's ever so much better. Catch hold, I say."

Ned took the glass without a word and crept up to the stone which had sheltered the observer, and there was silence for a few minutes, during which Chris's patience became exhausted.

Then he cried—

"You ought to have seen them by this time. What are they doing?"

"Cooking," said Ned laconically.

"What!" cried Chris in astonishment.

"Well, I'm not sure they're cooking, but they've made a fire."

"Where—where? I say: no nonsense. Can you really see them?"

"No, but I can see the smoke of a fire curling up, and their horses are grazing just at the edge of the forest part where the long grass begins."

"Your eye must have grown worse and worse," said Chris, with grim humour, as he crawled up alongside of his companion. "It must be very bad indeed, or you couldn't see all that. Let's have a look."

"Keep your head down, mind," said Ned, handing the glass.

"Oh, that's all right; they couldn't tell heads from stones at this distance. You must have been dreaming, Ned; I can't see smoke or horses."

"You're not looking in the right direction; bear round more to the left."

Chris made the object-glass of the binocular describe the segment of a circle, and then after another look he gave vent to a long, low whistle.

"I never thought to look so far this way," he said, as softly as if he was afraid of being heard.

"You can see them, then?"

"Yes, and the Indians too; dozens of them, I think. Here, catch hold."

"What are you going to do?"

"Tell them down below, and see what they mean to do."

The glass was passed into Ned's hand with a warning not to lose sight of the enemy again, and then Chris shuffled back and downward for a few yards, and then hurried down to the camp by an easier way of travelling than crawling on hands and toes.

He was not long in doubt as to what was to be done, for the doctor gave his orders at once, all hands setting to work to drive in the mules, which were rapidly loaded up, Chris being sent back to rejoin Ned and return from time to time with any news worth communication.

He descended twice to announce that the fire was burning still and the Indians' mustangs still grazing, there being no suggestion of movement, and as soon as possible the little mule-train was once more in motion, the doctor making for a great gully a quarter of a mile beyond in the mountain side, a rift which opened into one of several by which they hoped to get round in time to the further side of the peak, though the way was long and the impediments many—not that this was minded, for every impediment partook in some way of a screen from the enemy behind, while the way was so rocky that the trail left was of the slightest kind.

Camp that night there was none. There was a short halt or two, but they journeyed on for mile after mile by moonlight, and it was not till morning was well advanced towards mid-day that a suitable gully was found, offering all they needed in the way of water and pasturage, joined to a good lookout place for danger, which could only come to them from below, while the travellers had opened out to them an entirely fresh panorama of mountain and plain, any portion of which might contain the object for which they aimed.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A BIVOUAC.

"Oh, I say, Griggs, isn't this a lovely place!" said Ned that evening just before sundown, as they sat beside a glowing wood fire, waiting for the sufficient cooking of the bread-cakes that had been made. Griggs was combining the duties of watch and cook; the animals were grazing contentedly; the rest of the party were sleeping just where they had wearily thrown themselves down after their long journey—all save Ned. He had woke up a few minutes before, to sit staring about him, wondering where he was, and with a vague notion in his head that the setting sun, whose horizontal rays were searching the gully to its deepest depth and staining the sky with the most glorious tints wherever they could rest upon a fleecy cloud, was rising, and that the odour that saluted his nostrils was given off by the breakfast cakes.

Griggs was busy raking the glowing ashes over one of those cakes, and as he did not seem to hear, Ned glanced at where Chris lay with his head upon a doubled-up blanket, and repeated his question, which this time brought forth a reply.

"Yes; it's beautiful enough, my lad, but not the place we want."

"You haven't had a good look round yet," said Ned.

"Quite good enough to satisfy me that the map was not made here."

Ned was silent for a few minutes, and then he said suddenly—

"Yes, it's going down, and it will soon be night. I was puzzled at first. I thought it was morning. It all comes through lying down at such an unnatural time."

"Ah, you mustn't expect to go on in the regular way when you're travelling, my lad," said Griggs, "but get your bit of sleep when the chance comes."

"I suppose so," said Ned; "but it was ever so long before I could go off, though I was as tired as a dog. Chris was just as bad, but he's sleeping soundly enough now."

"No, I'm not," said Chris quietly. "I'm wide awake, listening to what you say, and smelling the cakes. Are they nearly done, Griggs?"

"Want another quarter of an hour, and then I shall make the tea."

"Then I shall go and bathe my face," said Chris. "That'll freshen me up. Will you come?"

This was to Ned, who rose at once, and they walked off together towards where a little stream came gurgling and splashing down from the heights above.

"They sleep well enough," said Chris, with a side wag of the head.

"Yes; but I couldn't. I say, shall we have to watch to-night?"

"No, I think not. I'm sure we shall have our turn to sleep till morning."

"That's right. I know I shall go off like a top. But I say, look at the sky and those fir-trees up there."

"Lovely," said Chris. "Some parts are so bright, all red and orange, and others look quite purple and black. It keeps changing so fast too, that the black shadows seem to move."

"Yes; that's what I thought more than once as I lay there before you woke. It was just as if something was creeping about under the boughs."

"Not an Indian spy on all fours, was it?" said Chris quickly.

"Nonsense! He wouldn't have shown himself like that."

"Wasn't a wild beast?"

"Of course not. If it had been it would have scared the mules and ponies. No, it was only a shadow creeping along, and I suppose, after all, I wasn't quite awake. Now then for that water. It's sure to be fresh and cold, and will wash all the sleepy feeling away."

Ned was quite right. The water had come tumbling down from somewhere high up the peak, and felt quite icy as they lay down upon their faces amongst the stones and scooped it up out of a little moss-grown rock-pool for a few minutes, before rising up to dry their faces, feeling bright and elastic once more and wonderfully ready for the evening meal, the preparations for which sent forth another scent far more attractive than that which came from the ferns which grew in every crevice of the rocks, and the pines whose aromatic resin shed a fainter perfume now that the heat of the sun had died away.

So beautiful was the soft gloom in the valley, so delicious the warm glow above, about the summit of the peak, that every one looked content and dreamy, as they sat almost in silence about the camp-fire and partook of their welcome repast.

"My turn to-night, Lee," said Wilton suddenly. "I don't think we shall be disturbed—do you?"

"No; I feel sure that we got away unseen, and in an hour it will be so still that you can hear the slightest sound."

"And so dark that an enemy could not find us."

"Till the moon rises," said Bourne, "and then I come on. I say, doctor, you're going to have as idle a time as the boys."

"And I'm sure father wants it," said Chris sharply; "he nearly works himself to death."

"And never felt better in my life," said the doctor, with a pleasant laugh. "This mountain air is glorious after the work in those dreary salt plains. But thank you all the same, Chris, my boy; you'll take care that I am not quite worked to death, eh?"

"You won't let me," said the boy quickly.

"No," replied the doctor. Then changing the subject, he turned to Griggs. "Just a word with you, neighbour," he said. "You feel pretty confident about to-night, don't you?"

"Yes; we'll have a good rest, and to-morrow—"

"Well, what about to-morrow?" said the doctor, for the American paused.

"Strike right off to the south."

"Why?" said Wilton sharply.

"Because, grand as all this part is, it won't do. A man wouldn't dry up with starvation and thirst in such a country as this, but get fat and lazy. We're not anywhere near the map land yet."

"I'm afraid not," said the doctor; "but the climate is perfect. One would like to settle here, for some things."

"One?" said Bourne. "I know two."

"Three," said Wilton.

"All of us," cried Chris.

"I didn't speak," said Griggs dryly.

"No; but you said you liked the place if it wasn't for the Indians," cried Ned.

"Ah, I wasn't thinking about the gold then, my lad."

"The gold!" cried Bourne contemptuously. "What is the gold, after all, but so much yellow metal?"

"That's right enough, sir," said Griggs, "but precious—"

"Precious!" said Bourne, with more contempt in his tone. "A fancy word."

"I hadn't finished what I meant to say, sir," said Griggs.

"Finish then," cried Bourne. "I don't believe you are a slave to the lust for gold."

"Slave, eh?" said Griggs merrily. "Britons never shall be slaves, as you sing—nor Murricans neither. No, sir. I was going to say precious useful, when you cut me short."

"I beg your pardon, Griggs."

"Granted, sir. I was speaking as a man who has toiled for years and years to get a decent living by his plantation, and I must say, after all my disappointments I should like to drop all at once upon that gold city where the stuff's lying waiting to be carted away."

"Yes," said the doctor; "after all our lost labour it would be pleasant."

"I don't want to wear gold chains and rings, and to keep carriages," continued Griggs, "but I should like to have enough of the yellow stuff to put in a bank, and one might do a good deal of good if one made a pile."

"Yes, I quite agree with you," said the doctor. "We all do, and we'll work till we find it."

"Of course," cried Wilton; "but I don't like that striking off south to-morrow; why should we do that?"

"It means getting clear of the Indians," said Griggs, "and into a more likely part."

"But we should have to go right across that desert yonder. I could see it stretching away to the horizon from one point we passed to-day."

"So did I, sir," said Griggs.

"Then why not keep hugging the mountains?"

"Or letting them hug us, Ned," whispered Chris.

"Didn't use the glass when you looked out over the salt plain, did you, Mr Wilton?" said Griggs.

"No; there wasn't any need. I could see nothing else but one vast alkali plain."

"That's a pity, sir," said the American.

"That's what I say, and I propose that we keep on in the mountains till we can see a place likely to be that we are looking for."

"Look here, gentlemen," said Griggs, "I'm Amurrican, and I speak with a slow sort of drawl which comes nat'ral to me. You don't give me time. I've got a lot more to say about that lookout and the glass, only— snip-snap, you cut my speech right in two."

"I'm very sorry, Griggs," cried Wilton. "Did you use the glass up there?"

"Up there, and several other places too. That's why I asked the doctor here to let me carry it."

"Well, and what did you see?" cried Wilton.

"Nothing, till we got to that highest part."

"And then?"

"Why then, right away south where the salt plains seemed to come to an end—"

"Ah!" cried the doctor.

"I could see just a line of faint clouds or shadows."

"Yes, clouds," said Wilton—"shadows."

"Nay, it warn't," said Griggs. "Clouds and shadows miles away—a hundred, perhaps—seen through this clear air look like clouds and shadows."

"Of course," said Wilton.

"Blackish or greyish. These didn't."

"How did they look then?" said Bourne.

"Like mountains, sir; just that beautiful, wonderful, soft, pale pinkish blue. We were very high up, it was as clear as clear, and I don't say how far it was off; most likely a hundred miles away, perhaps two; but there they were, a long line of 'em, some high and some low. Mountains, and no mistake, and that's where we ought to go."

"Right across that scorching desert?" said Wilton.

"Yes, sir. It won't be nice, but we'll take plenty of water."

"And risk the rattlesnakes?"

"Yes, sir, and leave the Indians to themselves here," said Griggs. "They may have this part and welcome. We don't want it. What do you say, doctor?"

"That we'll have a good rest to-night, and climb to-morrow morning as high above us as we can to get another glimpse of your mountains, Griggs, and then map down our course by the compass and start, after making the best preparations we can. Have you anything more to say against the plan, Wilton?"

"Not a bit," cried the latter. "I didn't know that Griggs had got another range of mountains up his sleeve. There, I'm a lazy one, and I can't help longing to loaf about in a beautiful place like this. I should like to stop and shoot and explore. The place is lovely."

"Wait till we've got the gold, sir," said Griggs merrily, "and then I'm with you. Nothing I should like better than to stop about here if Mr Lo! the poor Indian, would leave us alone. But he wouldn't, I know of old, and I've a great objection to standing still for him to make a target of me and stick me as full of arrows as a porcupine. Say, I wonder we haven't seen any of those gentlemen, and those black and white fellows with the feathery tails."

"The skunks!" cried the doctor. "No, nor do we want to. Then now for a good rest. Sleep, boys, and 'pay attintion to it,' like Barney O'Reardon. This moss will feel like feather-beds to-night. My word, how dark it has grown while we have been talking! Good-night, every one. I'm half-asleep now."

Five minutes later he was quite, and the rest, saving the watch, were rapidly following his example, the only sounds heard being the distant hoot of an owl, the musical trickling of falling water, and the crop, crop of the grazing beasts.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

A NIGHT VISITOR.

Chris Lee's bed that night was a contrivance of his own. It was between two long pieces of rock, a narrow passage which, after taking the axe to lop them off, he filled full of aromatic pine branches. These lay close and were elastic and yielding. Over them he stretched a blanket, upon which he rolled another piece of rock, which filled up one end of the narrow passage, and there, snugly protected at head and sides, was the delightful couch for a wholesomely tired lad, only wanting another blanket to cover him if he felt chilly, or to be ready to throw off if he found it warm.

Silence, darkness save for the glittering stars on high, sweet pure air, and an excellent appetite for sleep, there was all he could desire, and after laying his rifle and revolver ready and lifting his cartridge-pouch and hunting-knife a little over the rocks to prevent them from making dents in his sides, he said good-night to those near, let his head sink down, gazed for a few minutes at a brilliant star in the zenith which his father had told him was Aldebaran—one which he recollected well from its unscientific name—the Bull's-eye, he closed his own and began dreaming at once, but not pleasantly. The fact was that he had eaten a very hearty supper and lain down to sleep very soon afterwards, two rather foolish things to do if a calm and restful sleep be sought.

Chris did not know why it was—the doctor told him afterwards—but he began to dream soon afterwards of rattlesnakes. Not of such as he had seen on the rocky slope, the largest of which did not exceed six feet in length, but of dreamland rattlesnakes, monsters of twenty feet long, and with bony tails which kept up a constant whirr previous to their owners striking at that which they meant to destroy.

It was evident in the dream that they did not mean to destroy him, for though they hovered over him with their heads playing up and down upon their elastic necks, while their eyes glittered and their forked tongues darted in and out of the opening in their jaws, they did not strike, only kept him in a state of horror and suspense, till they made way for one of the porcupines that had been named at supper-time. This came quietly up to the foot of his bed, and walked up from his boots to his knees, with its black and white quills lying down as smoothly as if they formed so much excessively coarse hair. But then as the creature continued its walk, to be soon upon the boy's chest, it seemed to get into a violent passion, setting up its quills at all angles and rattling them together till it seemed about to dash at him. But instead of doing anything obnoxious it suddenly disappeared before the advance of a skunk, which came trotting up his body from his feet, just after the same fashion as the porcupine, but looking fiercely aggressive, in spite of the beauty of its clean, glossy, black and white fur. Its eyes gleamed and sparkled; it showed its glistening sharp white teeth, and waving its erect tail, which curved over its back like a squirrel's, it twitched in the same way, and seemed every moment about to make a rush at the boy's face to inflict one of its dangerously poisonous bites, while the twitching tail threatened the discharge of the horribly offensive fluid which will send a determined dog yelling plaintively, as, completely cowed, it beats a retreat.

It seemed an hour of expectancy for what did not come off, and all the time the sleeper lay half-conscious in the painful experience, telling himself that it was all fancy, for it was only a dream.

This was just as he was about to recover full consciousness, for the skunk gradually died away from where it had seemed to be standing upon his chest, and Chris lay wide awake with his heart beating, painfully wide awake now, and with every nerve on the strain, as he listened and tried to make out the meaning of a strange heavy breathing mingled with a sniffing, snuffling which came from somewhere at the back of his head.

Chris's first thought was of springing up out of the trough-like bed-place he had selected and escaping by the foot; but before he could put this into effect there was a rustling sound on the big piece of rock he had jammed in behind his head, and though he could see nothing he could feel that something had stepped up on to the stone and was bending over him; the snuffling breathing grew louder, and, to his horror, he felt a puff of hot breath full in his face.

There was no springing up now. An icy feeling chilled him, and he lay perfectly motionless, unable to stir, and feeling as if he had suddenly sunk into another dream—a nightmare this, by which he was completely fettered.

His rifle lay on one side, loaded; his revolver was on the other, and within reach of his hand; but he could not lift a finger, only stare upward with his eyes fixed upon the stars, which now seemed to be eclipsed by something dark passing between his face and them and remaining perfectly motionless for a few seconds. Then it passed onward and he could see the stars again, conscious the while that whatever the creature might be that had visited him it was now standing or sitting upon the long rock, to his left, breathing hard, with its head very near his own, and that, apparently dissatisfied with its position, or uneasy, it raised itself up and stepped over to the other side of the bed, forming what looked faintly like a black arch before the hind-legs followed the fore and it began to shuffle about uneasily upon the rock to the boy's right. Then there was a scraping sound, and something fell with a thump on to the listener's chest and slipped down between the rock and his ribs.

Chris's heart had ceased its heavy beating, but at this point it gave a tremendous bound which seemed to give him a momentary feeling of resolution and strength; but momentary only. He could not stir even now, only think, and listen to the creature upon the rock as it uttered a peculiar whining sound, followed by a deep grunt.

Then all was still, as if the animal had been slightly alarmed and was now listening.

"If I stir," thought Chris—for he knew what his visitant must be—"if I stir it will seize me with its claws and bury its teeth in my throat. Oh, it is hard!"

For he knew what had happened: the bear had in changing its position upon the long piece of rock disturbed the revolver lying there, and knocked it off on to the sleeper's chest, from which it had glided down between his ribs and the rock to lie close to his hand, where he could not seize it for his defence without rousing the animal to an attack before he could cock the pistol and fire.

The position was horrible, for Chris felt that the monster must be a grizzly, one of the fiercest and most powerful beasts that roam the forest, and though so much help was close at hand, it seemed to the boy that it might as well be a mile away, for he dared not—no, not dared, but simply could not—utter a sound.

How long this agony lasted he could not tell, but all the time he felt a strange combination of sensations, for it was as if his body was turned to ice, his head was on fire, and hot and cold together he was melting away.

He could see dimly the bulky dark figure of his visitant, but he judged that it could see him plainly, for it kept on moving about uneasily, and twice over changed its position from one rock to the other, bridging them over, and then sitting up as if listening, before coming down softly on all fours again, to stretch out its neck and begin sniffing at him from end to end.

At last, when a horrible feeling of faintness was creeping up from head to brain, a thrill ran through the boy, for a great paw was stretched out, touched him on the breast, and he felt the claws catch in the right side of his jacket as he was lifted up a little with a strange scraping sound against the rock, and something rolled over on to his chest as he was lowered down again, and then rolled back against his right-hand.

The shuffling sound began again, and as if to claw him out of the narrow trench-like place in which he lay, the bear reached out once more, thrusting its great paw down between him and the rock, and with the claws right under him began to lift him out.

Chris felt himself rising slowly, and knew that the next thing would be that he would be seized by the animal's teeth and slowly carried off to his lair.

But a change had come over the lad in those moments, ever since the first movement had sent something on to his chest to roll back against his hand. For that something was the revolver, about whose butt Chris's fingers closed, and as the bear's shuffling had raised him up there was a click, click of the lock, a movement of the boy's wrist which directed the muzzle of the little piece upward, and then in an agony of desperation his right finger pressed the trigger and there was a sharp echoing report, followed by a furious yell and crash which was followed by a call for help, and the voice of Wilton.

"Who fired that shot?" he shouted.

"I did," gasped Chris, who had scrambled to his feet, trembling in every limb.

"Who called for help?" shouted Griggs.

"I! Help!" came again.

"That you, Bourne?" said the doctor.

"Yes," came in a choking voice as of some one being suffocated.

"Oh, it's father!" shrieked Ned, and he rushed in the direction of the sound, just as there was a snarling, worrying sound and the breaking of wood as if a heavy body was rushing among the trees.

"Ah!" came in Bourne's voice, loudly. "No, my boy, not hurt, but I thought I was gone."

The speaker was the centre of a little group now, two of whom struck matches, and Wilton produced a lanthorn, which was lit and held up, to disclose the face of Bourne, covered with blood, and his jacket hanging down below his waist, literally ripped up.

"Help him to lie down," said the doctor anxiously. "Now, old fellow, tell me, where are you wounded?"

"Only in my jacket, I hope," was the reply, given cheerfully enough. "Who shot the brute?"

"I did," said Chris.

"You?" cried Griggs. "Then it was not you, Mr Bourne?"

"I? No! I was woke up by the shot, and coming to see, when I was knocked down by the brute. It fell on me, pinning me to the ground, kicking and struggling the while. I thought I should have been smothered. Is this its blood all over me?"

"Yes, if you are not torn."

"I'm not hurt that I know of. One of its fangs caught me somewhere about the collar and tore my jacket right down to the waist."

"No, you can't be wounded," said the doctor, "or you wouldn't talk like that. Here, Chris, you say you fired?"

"Yes, father," said the boy, and he hurriedly related his experience.

"What an escape for you both!" cried the doctor. "The brute must have been desperately wounded by your pistol-shot, Chris, my boy. You hit him hard."

"Couldn't very well miss him at that distance, sir," said Griggs dryly. "The brute's lying somewhere about. Look out, every one, for he'll be pretty dangerous."

"He must have gone ever so far," cried Ned, "for I heard the trees breaking for long enough. But are you quite sure you're not hurt, father?"

"Not a bit, my boy; I only want a wash and another jacket. Ugh! This blood is horrible. But I say, Wilton, you're a pretty sort of a fellow to keep guard while we slept!"

"Oh, I was on the lookout for Indians. You didn't say anything about bears. What was this one—a grizzly, Griggs?"

"Didn't see it, neighbour, but I shouldn't think it was. Black one or brown one, I should say. Cinnamon, p'r'aps."

"Why not a grizzly?"

"Because he wouldn't have taken a shot in him so quietly. He'd be rampaging about here ready to tear us all to pieces."

"Hadn't we better try and follow up the brute with the lanthorn?"

"I should say not," was the reply. "If he's only wounded he must be lying up savage-like, and as soon as he sees the light he'll show fight. If he's badly hurt he may have gone on till he drops, and be nearly dead by now."

"But we can't lie down and go to sleep again after this."

"Well, no, sir," said Griggs coolly; "it don't sound tempting."

"Then you would try and track the brute?"

"Yes, when the sun's up, sir."

"But what shall we do now?"

"Well," said the American, as coolly as could be, "seems to me that this is just a nice suitable time to sit round the lanthorn and tell bear stories."

"What!" cried the doctor.

"Tell bear stories, sir. Young Chris here might begin by telling his experience over again with all the flourishes, crosses, and dots that he left out. He didn't half tell it, I think."

"Oh, that's absurd," said Wilton. "By the way, though, I didn't hear a sound till Chris fired."

"Hadn't dropped asleep, had you?" said Griggs banteringly.

"No, certainly not," said Wilton, angrily.

"Here, every one look to his rifle," said the doctor, "and we'll sit together and watch and listen. The brute may come back."

This was done in silence for some time, when their patience getting exhausted, remarks were made about the ponies and mules, and wonder was expressed about their not having stampeded.

"Say," said Griggs suddenly, "I forgot all about them. Where are they?"

"Feeding about somewhere, quietly," said the doctor.

"I don't know so much about that," cried Griggs. "P'r'aps one of you will come with me and the lanthorn, and we'll see. I can't hear any of them grass-chopping. Will you come with me, Chris, or have you been too much shook up?"

"Oh, I'll come," said Chris quietly. "I don't think I've been too much 'shook up.'"

In a few minutes the lanthorn was seen lighting up the rocks and trees in the direction of the best pasturage, where the cattle had been left; and those left in camp watched till it disappeared, waiting anxiously till the light was in sight again, and finally came up to where the glowing embers kept on brightening and dying out again as the soft breeze blew down the gully from time to time.