"Between four and five, is what Milton and I calculated this afternoon," replied Harden.
"What's the nearest help by way of land?"
"There's a ranch, about eighty miles south of here. I guess the traveling would be about as bad as anybody would hope for. The fellows that go out have got to be used to desert work, like me." Harden scratched a match and by its unsteady light scrutinized the detail map spread open on his knee.
"Isn't Miss Allen working nearer than eighty miles from here?" asked
Agnew.
"She's in the Hopi country, whatever distance that may be," replied Enoch. "I should suppose it would be rather risky trying to catch some one who is moving about, as she is."
"I guess maybe she's on her way to the Ferry now." Jonas straightened up from his stew pot. "Leastways, Na-che kind of promised to kind of see if maybe they couldn't reach there about the time we did."
The other men laughed. "I guess we won't gamble too heavily on the women folks," exclaimed Forrester.
"I guess Miss Allen's the kind you don't connect gambling with," retorted Agnew.
Enoch cut in hastily. "Then two of us are to go out. What about those who stay?"
"Well, you have to get my helpless carcass aboard the Ida and we'll make our way to the Ferry, as rapidly as we can. The food problem is serious, but we won't starve in four days. We won't attempt any more hunting expeditions but we may pot something as we go along. It's the fellows who go out who'll have the worst of it."