They did the former and while the others could not even make out a trail, their guide went ahead without delay. Coming out of the woods at last, the Hog Back rose before them.
“Where’s your road now?” exclaimed Phil. “I didn’t see any last night.”
“You don’t need a road in the open,” replied “Grizzly” contemptuously. “It’s all road.”
Hosmer began a swift ascent of the almost mountainous slopes. Stopping now and then to examine the rough ground ahead; turning and twisting forward on new tacks; in less than twenty minutes the party came out on the crest of the hill.
“There she is,” called out Frank, “the scene of our disaster.”
Apparently it was the last valley before the high ground beyond it broke into the foothills of the real mountains. It lay green and rolling, gay with flowers and spring-time verdure.
“Why wouldn’t that make a good ranch?” asked Captain Ludington. “I can almost see the cattle and sheep gorging themselves. And over there on the bank of the river would be just the place for a big home and barns. Why there are thousands of acres here going to waste.”
“Come back in five years,” replied Mr. Mackworth soberly, “and you’ll probably see just what you describe. What you see here, you can find in thousands of places in this part of the world.”
“Could anyone come here?” broke in Phil, recalling his long days in the factory and his eighteen dollars a week.
“My boy,” said Mr. Mackworth, “Canada is begging people to come.”