A cloud of dust rose behind the galloping horses, drifting away to the left. The road was rough, but the boys did not mind that.
"Tahoe must be on the top of a mountain," grumbled Bart, after a time.
"It is six thousand, two hundred and eight feet above the level of the sea," said Frank. "That is elevated somewhat."
"I should say so. It must be the highest body of water in this country, if not in the world."
"It is higher than the peaks of many lofty mountains."
"And this so-called 'lake road' is hardly better than an ordinary trail. We are in for a hard pull of it."
"But the ones we are pursuing are in for just as hard a pull."
"That's right, and one of them is a girl."
The mountains loomed formidably before them. The bleak heights seemed to block their way. But the road wound onward and upward, and they followed it.
"What was that?" questioned Frank.