"I think I perceive in this mountain range evidences of upthrust by horizontal compression," replied Lafayette Smith, "and I wish to examine the surface indications more closely than it is possible to do from a distance. Therefore, we must go to the mountains, since they will not come to us."
"And what does it get you?" demanded "Gunner" Patrick. "Not a buck. It's a bum racket."
Lafayette Smith laughed good naturedly. They were crossing a meadowland through which a mountain stream wound. Surrounding it was a forest. "This would make a good camp," he said, "from which to work for a few days. You can hunt, and I'll have a look at the formations in the vicinity. Then we'll move on."
"It's jake with me," replied the "Gunner." "I'm fed up on climbing."
"Suppose you remain with the safari and get camp made," suggested Smith. "I'll go on up a little farther with my boy and see what I can see. It's early yet."
"Oke," assented the "Gunner." "I'll park the mob up near them trees. Don't get lost, and, say, you better take my protection guy with you," he added, nodding in the direction of his gun bearer.
"I'm not going to hunt," replied Smith. "I won't need him."
"Then take my rod here." The "Gunner" started to unbuckle his pistol belt. "You might need it."
"Thanks, I have one," replied Smith, tapping his .32.
"Geeze, you don't call that thing a rod, do you?" demanded the "Gunner," contemptuously.