"They hain't got no souls—that's what made him do it, Charley," said Lynn Taps, as the men deployed.
Steadily the miners ascended the rugged slope; rocks, trees, fallen trunks and treacherous holes impeded their progress, but did not stop them.
A steady wind cut them to the bone, and grew more keen and fierce as they neared the snow.
Suddenly Chagres Charley fired, and the boys faced to the right—a moment later another shot rallied the party; those nearest it found Nappy Boney in a high state of excitement, and leaning over a foot-print.
"Mon Dieu!" he cried; "they have not the esprit, those Mexicans; but her footprints might have been made by the adorable feet of one of my countrywomen, it is so small."
"Yes," said Mississip; "an' one of them fellers that started ahead hez found it fust, fur here's a man's track a-goin' up."
Rapidly the excited miners followed the tracks through the snow, and found them gradually leading to the regular trail across the mountain, which trail few men ventured upon at that season. Suddenly the men in advance stopped.
"Here 'tis, I reckon!" cried Mississip, springing across a small cleft in the rocks, and running toward a dark object lying on the sheltered side of a small cliff. "Good God!" he continued, as he stooped down; "it's Codago! An' he's froze stiff."
"Serve him right, cuss him," growled Lynn Taps. "I almost wish he had a soul, so he could catch it good an' hot, now he's gone!"
"He's got his pack with him," shouted Mississip, "and a huggin' it ez tight ez ef he could take it to—to wherever he's gone to.".