"I don't believe Doc Clancy will ever see ther States ag'in," observed Lank Edwards.
"Why?" asked Van.
"'Cause, he'll git killed afore we git through with him."
"If he does my uncle's murder will be avenged. Only I should like to see the villain die with a rope around his neck."
"He might die a wuss death than bein' hung," said the mate. "You can't tell what'll happen in this strange country," and Lank Edwards shrugged his shoulders.
No one made any reply to the mate's words, and the party continued on in silence.
They noticed that the water course led them up a gradual ascent, and the professor reckoned that it would conduct them to a range of mountains.
When noon arrived they were still in the gully, and all hands were ravenously hungry.
Though they could have shot lots of game during the morning, they did not do it for fear that the natives might be in pursuit of them and hear the report of their rifles.
But now it was getting to be a case of necessity, and Jack Howard said he was dying for a roasted chunk of meat, and did not propose to go any further until he got it.