"What a mighty upheaval of nature there must have been here at one time," said Dick.
By three o'clock in the morning Tom was completely fagged out and could scarcely keep his eyes open. Gradually he dragged behind the others, his eyes closing every few minutes in spite of his efforts to keep them open.
"I wish I had a cup of strong coffee to keep me awake," he murmured. "How much further are you going, Jack?"
"A couple of miles or so," answered the old miner. "Want a smoke?
You can have my pipe."
"Thank you, but I don't smoke, and I guess it would only make me feel worse," answered Tom.
He began to drop further and further behind. The other boys spoke to him, but they were in reality nearly as much worn out as their brother, and had all they could do to keep Wumble in sight.
At last Tom's head fell forward on his breast, and on the instant he went fast asleep. His horse continued to move forward, but coming to a fork in the trail, took the downward path, that being the easier to travel. On and on went the beast, until striking a smooth road he set off on a gallop.
The violent motion aroused Tom, and he stared about him in bewilderment. "Dick! Sam!" he called out. "Where are you?"
No answer came back, and he sat bolt upright in alarm. Nobody was in sight, nor could he hear a sound saving the hoof beats of his own horse. He drew rein instantly.
"Dick!" he called loudly. "Jack Wumble! Where are you?"