“He will feel cheap when he finds he is wrong, but he is manly enough to own up to it, and admit that some folks know——”
Sitting astride of his animal while he was helping himself to a drink, Herbert made good use of his eyes. Just then he observed that, though the pool resembled a natural spring, it was not. It was fed by a stream pouring into the upper portion, as large as that which formed the outlet, while there was no bubbling from the bottom.
“Whew!” whistled the astonished youth; “it begins to look as if it wasn’t Nick that had made a slip—hello!”
At that moment the call came ringing down from the upper trail. The matter was settled. Nick had struck the right spot, and all Herbert could do was to ride back along the path to the fork and join him.
He was on the point of starting back, when it occurred to him that it might be possible to shorten the distance by cutting across the neck of land, as talked about before they parted. The promise of being able to do so looked more encouraging from below than above.
Slipping down from the saddle, Herbert began picking his way through the rough portion, and advanced several rods before reaching a section where a horse would find the travelling difficult.
“He could make his way this far easily enough,” he said, halting and looking back, “but it doesn’t seem so easy further on.”
He advanced more carefully, for he was beginning to doubt the feasibility of the plan. It will be readily seen that while he was so uncertain as to the best course, he was consuming more time than he suspected. Night was rapidly closing in, and he was still debating what was best to do, when he noticed the increasing cold.
“It’s the norther, sure enough!” he exclaimed, starting back to mount his horse; “a little late, but it’s getting there all the same.”