They had been journeying on since then, getting nearer and nearer to the old settlement; but the change seemed wonderful, and they talked it over.
“Why,” said the doctor, “it isn’t only the boys that have grown, but everything here.”
“Yes, wonderfully,” said Bourne; “overgrown, one ought to say.”
“They don’t seem to have used the tracks much,” put in Griggs. “It’s hard work to make sure whether we’re going right.”
“Oh, we’re going right enough,” said Chris. “I remember every hill and dale. Look yonder; that’s where the plantations are. But how they have altered!”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “the place does seem changed; but from the state of the tracks I’m afraid that very little has been done in the way of developing the fruit trade. Hullo! Why are you turning off here, boys?”
“Because it was just under those big fir-trees, father, that we took and buried that poor old prospector. Ned and I want to see the board we cut and nailed on the biggest trunk.”
“To be sure, yes,” said Bourne; “let’s go and see.”
The mules were halted, and began to graze, while the party rode through the lush saplings and bushes that had sprung up so that it was hard work to get through, till they passed under the spreading branches of the trees, where the undergrowth became thin and sparse.
“There’s the old board,” cried Chris suddenly, and the party drew rein at last by the side of the heaped-up pile of stones with which they had marked the wanderer’s grave.