“Oh, we’ll let you look after that, Chunky,” said Jerry, with a smile.
Their plan was to travel by rail to the small town in Montana where their airship would be sent. Once it was put together again they would use that exclusively.
“And I guess those grub-stakers will have trouble in following us in that machine!” exclaimed Mr. Brill, proudly.
“Noddy Nixon may make trouble,” suggested Ned.
“He hasn’t his airship with him this time,” declared Jerry; “and I don’t fancy he can pick up one out there in a hurry. I guess we can give him the slip.”
“But Kabspell is quite a way from the valley where you hid the nuggets; isn’t it?” asked Jim Nestor, of his partner.
“Yes, but we can easily make the valley from there. The nearest place to it is a little settlement called Bolton, almost on the border between the United States and Canada. It is at the foot of the mountains, and the valley is off a rocky pass. I think we can easily find it. It isn’t a great distance from the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.”
“Do those Indians ever make trouble?” asked Ned.
“Oh, I suppose that once in a while some of them get tired of doing nothing and break off the reservation,” admitted Mr. Brill. “But Jim and I have our guns and——”
“We’ll take weapons, too,” said Jerry; “but I hope the only use we find for them will be to shoot game.”