"That I can't say."
Then the outfits would exchange travel notes and personal history.
But the trail was petering out, as Harry expressed, more and more, as the creeks were being headed, and anxious gold-seekers swerved aside looking for the Republican Valley and better water.
About noon one day a giant, solitary tree waited before. Several wagon-tracks led for it, and Duke and Jenny followed of their own accord. It was a big cottonwood, with half the bark stripped from its trunk by lightning.
"A store of good wood, there," remarked Harry. "Wonder why nobody's chopped it down."
"It's got a sign on it," exclaimed Terry. "See?" And—"'Pike's Peak Post Office,'" he read, aloud.
The sign was plain; and presently the reason of the sign was plain. On the white surface of the peeled trunk was scrawled a number of names and other words.
"Pike's Peak or Bust!"
Underneath: "Busted! No wood, no water, no gold. Boston Party."
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