“But how will we manage it?” asked Herbert, who was not well pleased with the proposal, despite his confidence in Nick’s judgment.
“In the first place, we shall not be far apart after going a long way, unless there is a more abrupt divergence than we see here. If I reach the spring, as I feel sure I shall, I will call to you and you can join me.”
“By riding back here to this fork—what will I gain by that?”
“I think you can save considerable distance by riding across the intervening ground, though, if that can’t be done, and you have to double on your own trail, it will be but one, instead of two, who has to do it. If we keep together, and both go wrong, we will have double work, while by dividing, one is as sure to be right as the other is to go astray; consequently half the labor will be saved.”
“What about the pack horses?”
“I guess they would better go with me.”
Herbert laughed.
“That shows your faith in your own theory, but I am willing, though just as sure as you, that you are putting extra duty on the animals.”
“When I strike the spring,” continued Nick, with a smile, “I will give a whistle, which you will understand as a call for you, and you can cut across lots or gallop back to this point and follow after me.”
“At any rate,” added Herbert, “I don’t see that the matter is very important, for we shall not be separated long. I will whistle to you when I reach the spring. Since I have only Jill, I will press on faster than you, and save you extra work.”