It seemed to the boy, as they lay
there panting from their long climb, that they had dropped out of
the sky.
He gave each one a friendly kick and waited, with a grin on his face.
"Say," grunted Shaw, rolling over on his back, "I'm all fried out."
"You have plenty of fat left," grinned Jimmie. "How did you fellows
get here?"
"By following the signs in the stones," Frank replied.
Then Jimmie turned to Peter, also panting from his climb.
"Where's the drum you went after," he demanded, tauntingly.
"I got lost on the way down," Peter explained. "I didn't think I'd
ever see or hear a drum again. Then I came upon Frank. He was lost,
too. I was on my way down to the camp, and he was on his way up to
the camp, and we met half a mile to the south of the camp, both
trudging along like fools."
The situation was explained in a few words. Both boys had missed
the trail, and had found, not the camp, but each other. They had
last met in New York. Frank had not the slightest notion that Peter
had left the city. It was a fortunate meeting, for the two, after
greeting each other like chums, had studied the situation out much
better than one could have done, with the result that, after many
false trails had been followed, they had struck the one left by Jimmie.
Where are they going with Fremont?" Frank asked, in a moment.
"They seem to be going after the reward," replied Jimmie.
"He'll get all the reward that's coming to him before he gets
over the river and claims the money," Frank exclaimed.
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