“That’s right,” assented Bony. “I don’t want to go off alone.”
“Well, Nat and I will strike off to the left,” went on Jack. “You, Sam and Budge can keep with Long Gun and go to the right. We’ll meet by that big peak over there,” and he pointed to one that could easily be seen.
This was agreed to, the Indian giving his consent with a grunt, and then Jack and Nat started off alone.
“I hope we get something,” remarked Jack when they had traveled for a mile or more.
“Same here,” added Nat. “Let’s go closer to that bad lands section Long Gun told us of.”
“I’m afraid we’ll get lost,” objected Jack.
The bad lands, as they are called, are a peculiar tract covered with ten thousand little sawtooth peaks and cones of earth and sandstone, rising abruptly from the plain, and so closely set together, and so lacking in any distinctive objects to mark them, that one can wander about in them as in a maze. The two lads had been hunting on the edge of them, but had not ventured in.
“Oh, I guess we can find our way back, if we don’t go in too far,” said Nat.
“Well,” began Jack a little doubtfully, “I don’t know——” And then he saw something that made him change his mind.