Kelley was for pushing on. "What matter if we don't get back?"
"I'm thinking of Pogosa—"
He shrugged his shoulders. "There's grub and shelter handy. She can come down any time and feed."
"Yes, but I hate to think of her all alone. She may be worse."
"Send Eugene back. We don't need him now."
Wetherell was almost as eager to go on as Kelley, but could not banish the pathetic figure of Pogosa so easily. Now that all signs pointed to the actual mine, his blood was fired with passion for the gold.
"Eugene, go back and wait for us. See that Pogosa is comfortable. We'll return by dark."
The word "dark" sent a shiver through Eugene. He shook his head. "No. I'm afraid. Spirits come again."
"Come on," said Kelley. "You can't make him do that. If we hurry we can get down to the other lake and back by sunset. The squaw will take care of herself. She's used to being alone—besides, the spirits are with her."
With the hope that it was not far, Wetherell yielded and set off down the slope, following the bank of the stream. Soon the other lake could be seen not far below them, and, slipping, sliding amid a cascade of pebbles, the gold-seekers, now glowing with certainty of success, plunged straight toward the pool. Two or three times this precipitous method of descent led them into blind alleys from which they were obliged to climb, but at last, just as the sun went behind the imperial peak, they came out upon the shore of the little tarn which lay shallowly over a perfectly flat floor of cream-colored sand.