However, George was game. He proved to be a good campaigner, for a tenderfoot; and as an old-timer Terry of course needs must pretend that this kind of camping was nothing at all. So they pitched in together and cooked supper like the rest of the crowd, and went early to bed on top of the blanket and underneath the buffalo robe.
"Jenny won't thank us any for bringing her from summer right into winter, I reckon," murmured George, as he and Terry spooned against each other, to keep warm.
"No," replied Terry. "This 'pound of gold a day' song doesn't mean anything to her yet. But it'll be warm down in Tarryall, they say—just like back at the Gregory diggin's."
"We ought to get there tomorrow."
"Depends on how many more of these mountains there are," reasoned Terry. "Without that Tarryall man to guide us we'd all be lost, sure."
On and on and on, into the south and southwest, continued the march: down and up, across more creeks, across more mountains, into canyons and out again; and when night arrived, no South Park and Tarryall diggin's were yet in sight. Nothing was in sight but thick timber and wild rocky ridges extending to snow-line. Near or distant, before, behind, on either side, the landscape was the same.
"A few miles, boys, and we'll be there," promised the Tarryall man. "'Bout tomorrow noon, say. Then for your pound a day."
"Seems as though that pound of gold a day was always ten or forty miles ahead of a fellow," complained Terry. "First it was at Cherry Creek, then it was at Gregory Gulch, and now it's somewhere yonder. He said fifty miles, and I bet we've hoofed a hundred and still we haven't struck it yet. Guess Harry and I'll have to sell the Golden Prize so as to get us some boots. Look at mine!"
"We'll make moccasins or trade for some with the Injuns," consoled George. "When you're getting your pound a day you won't care."
The straggling procession was well worn out by two days of long, hard marching afoot and ahorse, and most of the animals were foot-sore. But tonight's camp was more cheerful, because the new diggin's lay close before, over the next divide. Yes, the Tarryall man had promised truly, for about eleven o'clock in the morning the head of the procession shouted and cheered and waved.