It was past the middle of the afternoon, and Dick reached for the haversack, took out the neglected luncheon and divided it.
“It’s up to us, Larry; harder than it’s ever been before, because we were foolish enough to let that unwashed sand-shoveler put it all over us that way. We’ve got to find out what’s going on and carry the news back to our folks. Nice prospect for this late in the day! I’ve just about tramped the tramp all out of me, as it stands. We must have covered something like five or six miles getting here from the valley.”
“Every foot of five, anyway,” Larry agreed, talking around a hungry mouthful of bacon sandwich. “But here’s hoping that we can find a shorter way back, and it’s dollars to doughnuts that we shall. We know now that Jonesy was trying to lose us, which was why he ran us all over the lot getting here. This must be the upper canyon of the Tourmaline itself, and I expect, if we hunt around a bit, we’ll find our grade stakes—and most likely the O. C.’s as well. If we follow the river down——”
The interruption was a series of thunderous explosions that shook the air in the canyon and were bandied back and forth between the cliff walls in echoing rumblings lasting for a full half-minute.
“That was something that Jonesy didn’t count on—planting us so near that we could hear the blasting—didn’t think of it, I suppose,” Larry went on. “That touch-off wasn’t more than a mile away at the farthest, if I’m any judge.”
Hurriedly despatching the belated midday meal, they took the trail again, this time following the river. Almost immediately they came upon a series of grade stakes; two sets of them, in fact, overlapping each other. Within twenty minutes the familiar clinking of the air-drills could be heard, and now Dick knew what the mysterious high-altitude insect was whose chip-chipping he had heard at the beginning of the long roundabout over which the fellow named Jones had led them.
Presently the work noises came to them so plainly that they no longer dared to follow the canyon trail at the river level. If their surmise that Blaisdell and his man were held as prisoners was correct, they would doubtless suffer the same fate if they should fall into the hands of the O. C. force.
Realizing this, they climbed laboriously out of the canyon, and from the top of the cliffs a little farther on they were able to look down upon an exceedingly busy scene; a huge rock cutting just fairly begun, with its battery of chattering air-drills, hustling gangs of laborers, puffing spoil train, and big steam shovel.
Sorely as time pressed, Larry nevertheless snatched a few minutes in which to make a rough sketch of the incomplete cutting, knowing that the information would be valuable in estimating how long the rival railroad was likely to be delayed at this particular point.
“Hurry!” Dick urged, glancing at his wrist watch. “We don’t want to be caught by the dark in getting back to camp. We’ll never find our way out of this mountain tangle if we have to tackle the job in the night.”