"I ain't any wetter than you are!" retorted the boy, as the
rain switched his hair about his face. "Why don't you let
me take the light when I go on ahead, then?"
"For the same reason that we do not head our procession with
a fife and drum" laughed Frank. "We're not supposed to be
here at all!"
"There's nobody out lookin' for a light in this canyon
to-night," grumbled Jimmie.
As he spoke he seized Nestor by the arm and drew him back.
"What's that square of light down there?" he asked.
"Probably the camp we are bound for," was the reply.
"Then we've made better time down here than that lobster
of an Englishman did," the boy exclaimed. "It took him
most of the afternoon to climb down the hills, and we've
been only about two hours on the way."
"It seems that we came by a much shorter and easier route,"
Nestor replied. "Where the other party was obliged to
wind around precipices and crags, we made our way along
the beds of what was once a succession of streams,
cutting the side of the mountain into canyons. Wait
here, boys," he added, "until I go down there and see
what the situation is."
"Just you hold on until I let Fremont know we are coming!"
Jimmie said, and the next moment the wolf-cry which
Fremont had first heard rang out.
"Sounds like a wet wolf!" declared Frank.
"I know of a Black Bear that ain't any dryer!" replied Jimmie.
Nestor reached the level space in front of the west window
of the hut just as the guard left the corner in the interest
of a little warmth.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181