“Dead Man’s Gulch,” was the grim reply.
“Doesn’t sound very pleasant,” observed Bob.
“It’s a better locality than it sounds, Chunky,” went on Nestor. “There’s a little town there, if you want to sleep in beds.”
The boys decided to push for the Gulch, not that sleeping in beds was an inducement, for they rather liked the idea of resting in the open. But the gathering clouds indicated rain, and that would make camping out rather damp.
Without further mishap the machine was sent along. Ned was at the wheel and he turned on plenty of gasolene so that the car fairly skimmed over the roads. As they passed a stone post on the highway, Nestor called out:
“Good-by, Kansas!”
“What’s that for?” asked Ned.
“Because that’s the boundary mark between Kansas and Indian Territory,” replied the miner. “We are now on the old Indian ground, pretty soon we’ll be in Texas, and then we’ll land in New Mexico.”
“We’re getting to be travelers for fair!” remarked Bob.