"Jim, my boy, where's your regard for your daily bread—and the butter therefor? Where should you be if you hadn't had this chance?"
"Well," Jim returned quickly, "I shouldn't have been ruining my constitution in this infernal climate, at any rate."
Chad looked him over with profound gravity. "Well, Jim, I'm glad you are telling me that you are cut out for an early grave; I should never have believed it if you hadn't said so yourself."
"Wouldn't there be a rumpus if the Lamas knew about this trip of ours?" Chad resumed as though fascinated with the idea. "I can see ourselves calling each other lucky because we only got kicked over this precipice here."
"You can occupy yourself with such thoughts if you want to," exclaimed Jim; "but I'm going to hustle up that John Chinaman. It seems to me he's pretty slow this evening, and I'm hungry."
"If your constitution is spoiled?" laughed Chad. "Well, good luck; call me when you're ready," and the young reporter threw himself down upon the rocks and looked off toward Lhasa. In a few minutes he heard Jim's voice raised in alarm. "John! John! Oh, John-n!" As Chad sprang up and started along the path, he met Jim coming back.
"Say, Chad, that rascal of a chink has vanished completely with a good half of the supplies, and if you say, 'I told you so,' I'll light out too!"
"Is the camera safe?" was Chad's instant response.
"Why, I guess so; the box is anyhow—I didn't look inside."