“Oh, that was the one,” persisted Chris. “I know him well enough by his white muzzle.”
“To be sure. That’s right. Then where are the kegs? Snakes ain’t thirsty things. They couldn’t have rolled them away, could they?”
“What nonsense!” cried Chris. “But it is really strange. If we were on a slope I should have thought that they had gone rolling right away out of sight.”
“We are on a steep slope, lad, but the barrels would have to roll up it to get out of sight like this, and I never knew barrels carry on games like that out of a book of fairy tales.”
“Griggs,” cried Chris, after a moment or two of thought, “are we in the right place? These stones are very confusing.”
“Right place? Yes, look there; you can see our trail.”
“Yes,” replied Chris thoughtfully, as he bent down over his saddle-bow, “and—Ugh! Look there!”
“Eh? See snakes?” cried Griggs excitedly.
“No, but look there; surely all those windings in the sand were made by them.”
“To be sure. Oh yes, we’re in the right spot, without a doubt. Then I tell you what. We can’t see very far away any way amongst these dotted-about stones; there must be a sharp slope somewhere near, perhaps the edge of a precipice, or great hole in the ground.”