The Peril Finders Part 66

"I noted the grand scenery too," said the doctor.

"And I," added Wilton. "It's made me long to begin exploring again, for there was no sign of desert that I could see."

"It's a grand country," said Bourne, "and the wonder to me is that it has not been settled. Why do you laugh, boy?"

"Oh, it was only at something I thought, sir," said Chris.

"What was it?"

"That the salt plains were enough to keep anybody from coming as far as this."

"That's it, my lad," said Griggs. "Men may have come prospecting in this direction for gold, but I shouldn't be a bit surprised to find that this is only a patch of good land round and about these mountains, and that if we went far enough in any direction we should come to the salt plains again, shutting it in and keeping people back."

"It is possible," said the doctor.

"It's more than likely, sir. If it were not so, wouldn't people have settled here?"

"It is very far from civilisation, Griggs," said Bourne.

"Most new places are far from civilisation, sir," cried Griggs. "But look all round here, sir; if a good strong party of men came here with their wives and children they'd make their own civilisation, for it seems to me that we can find here already pretty well everything a man could want. See what it would be after a few years of farm-stock rearing and gardening."

"Then why not stop and settle here?" said the doctor, smiling.

"Because we've got gold on the brain, sir," replied Griggs grimly. "We set ourselves to see if that poor old fellow's story was a fact, and having started, I say let's carry out our work. If we don't find out that his map told the truth, I'm ready to come and open out this bit of country, if you like, for it's ten times the place that we came from.

Even now if you say we'll go no further, I'll set to work with you; but because it's so beautiful ought we to forget how we're cutting ourselves off from the rest of the world?"

"No," said the doctor emphatically. "I propose we make a fresh start to-morrow farther up into the mountains, and see what there is yonder."

There was a murmur of agreement at this, in which the boys joined.

"Yes," said Chris, as he sauntered away soon after with his eyes roaming in every direction in search of danger or something new. "Griggs is right. It's as fine as fine here, and I don't like leaving the fis.h.i.+ng; but I am beginning to want a change, aren't you?"

"No going down-hill again to be roasted and choked with thirst."

"Of course not," said Chris; "we've had enough of that. I want to do some of that shooting Griggs was talking about last night."

"What, the goats up in the mountains?"

"Yes, and those big horned sheep; but I feel sure he was laughing at us about their jumping about the precipices, and running along ledges full gallop when they're only a few inches wide."

"Oh, I don't know; he hadn't got that queer c.o.c.k of the eye that he has when he's spinning a yarn."

"Well, no; but it was a good deal like throwing the hatchet. Didn't you see how serious your father looked?"

"Yes, but not so serious as your father did when Griggs declared that he'd seen flocks of those sheep running away from people stalking them till they got to the edges of the precipices where they could go no farther; and then jump down head first so as to come on the great thick twisted horns which cover their foreheads, and bounce up again, and go on running along a lower part."

"Yes, I saw. Why, a big, heavy sheep if he came down like that would break his horns."

"Break his horns!" cried Ned. "He'd break his neck."

"I should like to shoot one of those fellows," said Chris.

"Or be below when one of them jumped, came down on his head, and broke his neck," said Ned. "I say, mutton--neck of mutton--leg of mutton!

Wouldn't a good roast joint be a treat?"

"Oh, what a fellow you are for thinking about eating!" cried Chris impatiently.

"And so are you for drinking," replied Ned. "You're always on the lookout for water."

"Well, we must drink a great deal in such a thirsty land."

"Yes, and we must eat a deal to keep up one's strength," said Ned. "I can't help getting hungry when we're walking about so much. I suppose it's because I'm growing fast."

"Yea, that's it," said Chris, smiling. "I get very hungry too. It's all right; I won't laugh at you any more. I say, what lots of those little gophers there are here. Look there; why, there must be about a hundred up on that patch of sandy ground. Watching us to see if we're coming, and ready to pop into their holes."

"I see them. There's one of those little round tots of owls sitting there too just outside the burrow. It's quite comic to see the gophers living so sociably with the little owls."

Chris gave a shout just then, and the colony of little burrowing animals resembling the marmots of the Alps disappeared into their holes with an accompaniment of angry warning whistles, just as a huge eagle came sailing along overhead, swooping so near that a good marksman could easily have brought it down.

"Seems a pity to go away from a place where there's so much to see,"

said Chris, after a time. "And what for? To find gold. Well, it's only yellow metal. We might stay here and find some."

"Or silver," said Ned.

"Yes, or lead, or antimony."

"Or coal," cried Ned.

"Ah, that would be useful for making our cooking fire," said Chris.

"But there's plenty of wood everywhere, and I won't complain. I want to go on and see more. Every place we come to seems more wonderful than the last, and there's no knowing what we may find next."

"We shall see," said Ned, yawning, for the darkness was sweeping up the sides of the hills, leaving the hollows black, and they had had a long and tiring day. "I suppose we shall start, then, to-morrow."

"For a certainty. I wonder what our next camping-place may be like."

"That ruined city described by the old prospector, perhaps," said Ned, laughing. "But what are we going to do then--load the mules with gold, and go back again?"

"I hope not," cried Chris. "I don't want to go back. Why, we haven't shot a buffalo yet."

"So much the better for the buffalo," said Ned, yawning again.

"I say, don't do that," cried Chris querulously.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Yes, you were; opening your mouth as wide as you could, just like old Skeeter when he's getting ready to bray."

"Whinny," said Ned correctively. "He isn't a donkey."