“Well, we had fun out of it, anyhow,” said Chot. “But say, what do you s’pose he means, saying your Uncle Tod and that other man are crazy?” asked Chot of Rick.
“I don’t know,” was the reply. “I never heard of this Sam Rockford, though my folks may know him.”
“I suppose he is your uncle’s partner,” suggested Mr. Campbell. “As for this prospector saying other people are crazy—well, I’ve had some experience out here in the west. There is a class of man who, as soon as some one differs from them, at once jump to the idea that the other fellow is as crazy as a loon. Maybe the other man doesn’t do his mining in the same way as do most of the miners—the result is he gets the name of being crazy.
“And from what you tell me of your Uncle Tod, Rick, I’d say he wouldn’t follow in the same old rut if he found a better way to do a job. He’d take a new trail and that might result in his being called crazy.”
“I guess that’s it,” agreed Rick.
“So don’t pay too much attention to what this prospector said,” went on Mr. Campbell with a laugh.
“I should say not!” agreed Chot. “We’re out here for a good time!”
“But I guess Uncle Tod wants us to help him do something,” said Rick, “though I don’t know what it is.”
“We’ll soon find out,” remarked Mr. Campbell.
Following the directions given them by the prospector aboard the mountain-climbing mule Salamander, the three in the auto kept on up the trail, which wound over a fairly good road. They made quite an ascent, and then dipped down into a valley—a pleasant valley which seemed as though it ought to have a stream running through it. But there was no sign of water, save, here and there, small pools, while in other places there were indications of brooks that had dried up, leaving only a bed of stones and gravel.