And then a year had passed, and the second began, as full of adventure and excitement as ever. But by this time, while still pursuing the phantom gold, they had learned by experience the value of keeping near salmon-river and verdant rolling plain where bison were still plentiful, and the adventurers’ larder was always well supplied.
They led the life of the Indians of the plain, save that the finding of the golden city and temple was always kept in mind.
Twice over Griggs declared that though they had not found it they had discovered the high-road which led directly there. It was a watery way between perpendicular cliffs, and the place had been hailed for its promise of salmon, which they shot and speared as they glided in shoals over the yellow sands.
It was after scooping a wounded fish from the swift waters that Chris afterwards took the tin hanging from his belt and stood knee-deep to fill the vessel with the clear cold water fresh from the mountains.
“Hand me a tinful,” cried Ned, who stood aloof so as not to wet his buffalo-skin boots.
It was boy-like. Chris filled the tin, and giving Griggs a merry look, scooped it half full of sand as well.
“I say, it feels precious heavy,” cried Ned, as he raised it to his lips. “Yah!” he shouted, and he was about to toss the contents back over the giver, but Griggs caught him by the arm.
“I’ll drink that,” he said; “I’m not afraid of a little sand.”
He drank till the sand touched his lips, and then held it in the sunshine, looking into the tin, stooped and refilled it, and rinsed it round, to pour away a mixture of sand and water, refilled again, and repeated and repeated till nearly all the sand had gone; and then he held out the cup in triumph, for the others to see a few glistening pieces of yellow metal about as big as small, smooth, flattened shot.
“Gold!” he cried. “Now then, all we have to do is to follow up this river into the mountains. The golden city is there.”