Hank Butts had come over to Maporah on horseback, leading one other steed, that belonging to Lew Billings.
“And that proves that Lew didn’t go away on horseback,” said Butts, “because it’s the only nag he owns. I brought him over in case I met up with you,” and he nodded to Tom Rover.
“Well, I’ve got to find some sort of mounts for the boys,” answered the twins’ father. “Otherwise, we’ll have to make some arrangement to stay here.”
“You might get a shakedown over to Gus Terwilliger’s,” answered the old miner, waving his hand toward the store. “He’s got a kind of bunkhouse in the back there. It ain’t much of a place, but the miners and cowboys use it sometimes, when they’ve got to wait for trains.”
“Do you suppose he has any horses?”
“I can’t say. He might have.”
“I don’t suppose they have anything in the way of an auto running up that way?” came from Fred.
“Not much!” and for the first time since meeting them Hank Butts grinned. “Pretty good going down here, but once you get in the mountains, and you couldn’t run an auto a hundred yards. Besides, some of them trails is so narrow a horse can’t scarcely navigate ’em.”
“In that case, how did they get the mining machinery up there?” questioned Jack.