His companions stood and looked up in the direction indicated, where the transformation that had taken place was wonderful.
An hour before they had gazed through drifting, dusty snow at forbidding crags and wintry desolation. For a few minutes that one peak had flashed out hopefully, but only to fade away again, while now their eyes literally ached with the dazzling splendour of what seemed to be a grotto-like palace of precious stones, set in frosted silver and burnished gold; for the mountains blazed in the last rays of the setting sun with the hues of the iris magnified into one gorgeous sheen.
“Yes, that looks as if we’d got to the golden land at last, my sons,” said Tregelly. “It’s something like what one has dreamed of after reading the ‘Arabian Nights’; only you see they aren’t fast colours, and they won’t wash.”
“Never mind,” said Dallas; “we know that the gold must be there, and we’ll find it yet. Ready?”
For answer Tregelly picked up the trace, and was about to pass it over his head, but he paused and looked round.
“Here,” he cried; “where’s that there dog?”
Abel went into the rough shelter they had made, to find Scruff curled-up fast asleep beneath one of the skins they were going to leave behind; but he sprang up at a touch, and trotted out to take his place by Tregelly, who slipped his slight harness over the sturdy animal’s head.
“No shuffling now, my son,” he said merrily. “You’re stores, you know, and we shall want you to eat when the rest of the prog is done. Forward! we’re going to do it now.”