Accordingly, they separated, and in a scattering of boulders a little farther on, Larry found the stake—or at least, a stake. He was on his knees before it when Dick came up to say:
“Hullo! got it at last, have you?” And then, as with a sudden shock of surprise: “Why, say, Larry—that isn’t one of our old stakes! It’s a brand new one!”
It was; so new that it looked as if it might have been driven that very forenoon. The stakes they had been finding hitherto were all browned and weathered, as they were bound to be since they had been driven five years before. But this one was unmistakably new, with the mark, “Sta.162-50” in blue chalk plainly to be read. Moreover, it had been planted between two stones in a place where nobody would be likely to find it unless he knew exactly where to look for it.
“See here, Dick,” said Larry, scowling down at the discovery, “I don’t ‘savvy’ this. It doesn’t look a little bit good to me.”
“You said a whole earful then, Larry. You don’t suppose any of our men have been up here ahead of us putting in new stakes, do you?”
Larry shook his head.
“We’d have known about it if they had. We’ve been passing all the transit crews each morning as we came out.”
Dick stooped and read the blue chalk markings.
“‘Sta.162-50’ means fifty feet beyond Station One Hundred and Sixty-two. And Station One-sixty-two would be sixteen thousand two hundred feet beyond some given starting point; that’s a little over three miles. We haven’t any starting point three miles back. Our stations are all numbered from Red Butte.”
Again Larry frowned and shook his head.