“Listen!” he said, bending his head forward.
“Bells!” shouted Jimmie. “Bells ringing at this time of the morning, away up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains! What do you make of that?”
“Mule bells!” scoffed Jimmie.
“I guess that’s right,” Harry agreed. “And there are the mules,” he went on, pointing. “They’ve brought some one in!”
“If they would only stop long enough to take me out!” wailed Gilroy, starting off as if in pursuit of the distant train of mules.
“Those beasts of burden are two hours’ travel from this point,” Frank advised. “They look to be only a short distance off, but you’d have to climb over a whole lot of land standing up on end to get to them.”
“Now who do you think the latest arrival is?” asked Jimmie.
“Probably a message from Dad,” Jack suggested.
“I’m sure of that!” Gilroy cried, gleefully. “I’m sure it’s an order for my recall. I’ll soon be out of this terrible country, safe in little old New York! It’s too good to be true!”
The boys now hastened toward the cliff and, turning sharply around the angle of rock, saw that the camp had indeed been occupied since their departure. A fire, which gave every indication of having recently been built, was burning and a number of cooking utensils stood near by.