They were sitting as usual before their tent smoking their good night pipes.
"You will get into trouble, Rog," warned Ernest. "Impatience is all right and good driving power, but what's the use of laying yourself open to difficulties?"
"Don't be an old maid, Ern, with your piffling German conscientiousness. I haven't the slightest notion of stealing. I'll pay for every drop of the oil—"
"How vas the road?" asked Gustav.
"No road at all," replied Roger. "I just plunged through across country."
"Then, the horses, where—"
"Lord, that's right!" interrupted Roger. "I noticed that there was a good enough road leading out of the mine to the south—toward Archer's Springs. But it's clear on the other side of the range and parallel to this trail, of course. No good to us at all. Don't tell me we've got to build a road to get that oil out. My lord, what a country!"
"Vell," said Gustav, "if it is too hard to get it out, then you don't steal it, then you don't break the law, then you don't get arrested, so that is good."
"Don't you think I won't get it out, if I have to pack it out in a canteen," said Roger. "High treason, arson, murder are nothing to stand between me and that cache of oil."
"You'd better swipe two teams of horses, Rog, on one of your predatory expeditions," exclaimed Ernest. "Dick may need his own horses occasionally this spring."