Finally Ned paused and pointed to two parallel ridges to the north.
“There,” he said, “unless I am very much mistaken, are the ridges which stand on either side of the Devil’s Punch Bowl.”
“Then we’ll soon know whether that messenger is a liar or not,” Jimmie stated. “He may be all right, but, just the same, I’m looking for some one to butt in on us every minute now!”
They were not molested, however, as they walked along, winding into gulches, climbing to the top of crags, and occasionally making their way over narrow ledges. Gilroy actually shivered as the boys forced him along, sometimes leading him by the arm, at other times pushing him along with many sly winks and chuckles.
There was only the light of the stars, but the ridges were clearly outlined because of the stretches of snow which cloaked them.
At last they came to the verge of the pit and looked down.
“This is the place, sure enough!” Ned decided. “Unless the boy who gave the information is an accomplished liar, we ought to find our chums at the bottom of this wicked old precipice.”
Gilroy stood for a moment trembling on the edge of the cavern and then almost dropped back into Ned’s arms.
“We’ll never get down there, never!” he wailed. “We’ll drop off into space and never see the Great White Way again.”
“Go to it, partner!” grinned Jimmie, not a little disgusted at the lack of physical courage exhibited by the fat clerk. “Get your troubles all off your chest and then cheer up. The worst is yet to come!”