“Well you ask anybody around here if a couple of men trying to wait for Lost River to come back, aren’t crazy, and if they don’t say they are, I’ll eat my mule’s ears—that’s what I’ll do!” offered the prospector. “As crazy as loons—that’s what they are! I’ll eat my mule’s ears! I sure will!”
CHAPTER XII
LOST RIVER
Not knowing exactly how to reply to this sort of talk, and hardly understanding what the man meant by it, Rick and Chot said nothing. Mr. Campbell was silent for a moment, looking at the prospector on his mule as he made off down the mountain trail.
“So you think Uncle Tod is crazy, eh?” finally asked Mr. Campbell.
“I don’t think it—I know it,” came the answer with a chuckle. “And so’s Sam Rockford—he’s crazier than Tod if such a thing can be. Go on, Salamander!” This last was called to the mule which ambled on with many a clatter and clang of the prospector’s outfit.
“Well, boys, does this discourage you?” asked Mr. Campbell, when the old man and his mule were out of sight around a turn in the trail.
“It does not!” cried Rick, cheerfully. “Once upon a time I thought Uncle Tod was crazy, but it turned out all right.”
“And I have no doubt but what it will this time, Rick. We’ll go on to your uncle’s camp. I’m glad we have found it with no further trouble,” said Mr. Campbell.
“I’m afraid we’ve been quite a bother to you, Mr. Campbell,” remarked Rick, as the auto was again sent climbing the mountain trail.
“Oh, not at all,” was the answer. “In fact you have been good company for me. It would have been mighty lonesome coming all this distance alone, and I didn’t have to get much off my trail to come here. It’s been a pleasure.”