The inspiring incentive to both boys was the dread that they were too late to recover the gold that had been stolen. Since its weight was too great for a couple of men to carry, the natural presumption was that they had buried or would bury it in some secure place, and return when it was safe to take it away.
Because of this, Roswell Palmer sharply scrutinized every part of his field of vision as it opened before him. There were numerous breaks in the path which permitted him to look over a space of several rods, and again he could not see six feet from him.
Reaching an earthy part of the trail, he leaned over and studied it. There was no sign of a hoof or footprint.
"The burro did not come this far," was his conclusion; "I am wasting time by wandering from Frank."
He was in doubt whether to turn or to advance farther. He had paused among the bowlders, where little was visible, and, convinced of his mistake, he shoved his weapon back in his pocket, so as to give him the freer use of his hands, and turned back over the trail along which he had just come.
He had not taken a dozen steps when he was checked by the most startling summons that could come to him. It was a gruff "Hands up, younker!"
"HANDS UP, YOUNKER!"
It will be recalled that Roswell was less headstrong than his cousin, as he now demonstrated by his prompt obedience to the command, which came from an immense rock at the side of the path, partly behind him.