"In such an out-of-the-way place as this, we can't afford to lose our things," asserted Dick.
"Maybe we had better set a guard, at night," suggested his brother.
"Oh, we don't want to lose any sleep, if we don't have to."
It had grown colder and colder, and now the wind swept around them in anything but a pleasant fashion. About noon came a flurry of snow.
"I don't like that," said Dick, shaking his head and looking up at the darkening sky.
"Oh, let's hope it won't amount to much, Dick," replied Sam.
The traveling was steadily upward, for they had to pass over a high hill to get into the valley leading to Lion Head. There was something of a trail, made by wild animals originally and now used by prospectors. This wound in and out among the rock and bushes. The footing was uncertain, and more than once one or another would go down in a hole.
"Talk about walking!" gasped Sam, after pulling himself out of a hole well concealed by bushes. "I'm thankful I didn't break a leg that time."
"An' ye can be thankful ye didn't stir up no snakes," came from Jack Wumble.
"Are there snakes up here, Jack?"