"Old and broken down, too," added Jack. "They're pretty well covered with vines and creepers, and that hut over on the left is a—why, all those mounds are old huts, General!"
Sure enough, at close quarters they saw that scores of little mounds scattered around had once been huts, fallen to pieces under the attacks of animals and the weather. The few that were standing had been somewhat preserved by the shelter of spreading juniper trees overhead, and young bamboos had sprouted around and inside, thus serving to keep them in shape.
"Pretty rotten," said Charlie, poking one with his rifle. The grass and twigs fell at the touch. "They've been deserted for years. But look over there—that used to be a yam patch, and I'll bet a dollar—"
Without finishing he flung himself from the saddle and ran to an overgrown stretch of ground, where his quick eye had detected a few yams growing wild, with a variety of squash. Most of them were trampled or eaten by animals, but they managed to collect a dozen of each, which would give a welcome variety of food.
"General!" called out Jack, fifty yards away.
"Come over here, all of you."
He was standing over something on the ground, at the edge of the forest. When the others arrived, he pointed to an immense buffalo track in the soft ground.
"There's your giant bull," he said triumphantly. "This is no place for us, I guess."
"I should say not!" cried Schoverling. "What a brute that fellow must be! Ever see as big a track, Doctor?"
"Never," and the German wagged his great beard, with a dubious glance around. "Come, let us go on. Ach, what a country is this!"