"Let's do it. I've never been fourteen thousand feet, myself," declared Fitz.
And we all held up our right hands.
"Bueno," quoth Major Henry. "Then we go. We'll climb Pilot and put in extra time on the trail. Cache the stuff, police the camp, put out the fire, take what grub we can in our pockets, and the sooner we start the better."
Maybe we ought not to have done this. Our business was the message. We weren't out for fun or for honors. We were out to carry that message through in the shortest time possible. The climb was not necessary—and I for one had a sneaking hunch that we were making a mistake. But I had voted yes, and so had we all. If anybody had felt dubious, he ought to have voted no.
In the next chapter you will read what we got, by fooling with a side issue.
CHAPTER XVII
VAN SANT'S LAST CARTRIDGE
The way to climb a mountain is not to tackle it by the short, steep way, but to go up by zigzags, through little gulches and passes. You arrive about as quick and you arrive easier.