“Right-o!” replied Jimmie.
“But where is this blooming camp?” Carl asked.
“We’ll find it here somewhere!” Jimmie answered, confidently.
Directly the boys came to a canyon which opened at the west of the valley and led to a grassy plateau higher up. At some distant time the place now occupied by the plateau had doubtless been an enlargement and extension of the canyon. However, as the years passed, the rocks had crumbled under the action of water until the great dent had become filled.
One look to the left as the boys moved slowly past the mouth of the canyon was sufficient. A fire was blazing high in the center of the plateau and half a dozen tents were scattered about. On every side the walls of rock came down to the green grass which lay like a carpet over the floor of the plateau.
Here and there the boys saw dark openings in the walls, similar to the one they had observed at the smugglers’ camp.
“Those old rocks,” Jimmie commented, “are honeycombed with caves, and it’s a hundred to one that those hunters are obliged to keep things moving nights in order to drive away wild animals.”
“From all accounts,” Carl agreed, “wild animals don’t stand much show with that bunch!”
“Of course, they’ve seen us,” Jimmie observed as the aeroplane shot by the canyon and the tents were no longer in sight. “If they’re not asleep they know we’re here. Now, what’s the best thing to do?”
“Walk right along just like we never noticed them!” replied Carl.