“Thinks the tribes mean to starve us out,” said Roberts one evening when the Colonel went away from the table looking more depressed and anxious than usual.
“And they won’t,” said Drummond. “Why, there are mountain sheep enough up yonder to keep us for years.”
“They get more difficult to shoot, though,” said Bracy.
“Pooh! not they. A few close by are a bit shy; but, look here, when we get right up on the shoulder of that left-hand peak and look north what do we see?”
“Mountains,” replied Bracy.
“And when we were right up on that farthest peak last week, and looked north, what did we see then?”
“More mountains.”
“That’s it; and you might go on and on for a month, and it would be the same—more mountains.”
Bracy nodded and looked thoughtful.
“Yes,” he said at last; “the world’s a long way from being played out yet. We can see hundreds of peaks, and the soft blue valleys between them, which I suppose have never been traversed by man.”