“No.” Blandy was decisive. “No, I don’t trust none of them flyshuffers.”
“But I’ll drive.”
“Take a machine and leave tracks, eh?” demanded Blandy. “Not on your life! Burros is what we need. A burro can travel on a washout and never turn a stone.”
“All right, burros then,” assented Patton eagerly. “Let’s start to-morrow night.”
“Oh, what’s your sweat?” asked Blandy.
“Just this: The quicker we leave, the quicker we get out of Searles.”
“But—but maybe Jeff’s tired,” suggested Polly timidly.
Patton gave her a warning glance. “I know he’s tired,” he answered. “But we won’t have to rush. We can take it easy, and only travel at night. If we wait around here, people’re sure to begin trying to find out where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. The whole town knows you’ve been on a long prospecting trip—I heard it when I came. So (just as you said yourself a while ago) first thing you know, we’ll have a regular gang on our trail.”
Blandy nodded, more than half-convinced.
“And when we’ve got our ore,” went on Patton, “I’ll go to Los Angeles with you. I’m the man that can advise you when it comes to a lease.”