“Jeff had bin so unlucky that first he thinks it’s jes’ fool’s gold and not the real article. But he soon convinces himself thet he’s struck it rich at last. Wall, ter make a long story short, Jeff files a claim and in a few y’ars is a rich man, and what d’ye s’pose he called ther mine?”
“‘The Cloud Burst,’ of course!” cried Jack.
“How’d yer guess it?” asked Pete. “But yer right, and thet’s ther only cloudburst I ever hearn’ of, thet brought anybody any luck.”
“Personally, if I could find a pair of trousers,” wailed the professor, “I should esteem their possession almost above even such a lucky discovery as you have related.”
“I think I’d trade it right now for a porter-house steak and trimmings, brown gravy and green corn, and——”
“See here,” put in Ralph, with assumed indignation, “if you don’t shut up I’ll, I’ll——”
“Go right home,” chuckled Walt teasingly; “you’d be a fine sight in that rig. I’ll bet the folks back east would have you put in the calaboose.”
But by noon the gay spirits of the boys were considerably toned down. No sign of a town had yet come in sight and they were all hot, hungry and tired. The odd procession, with the burros tagging along behind, looked disconsolate enough as it followed the windings of the river. The shallow aftermath of the flood steamed and simmered under the hot sun, sending up unpleasant odors,—yet they had to drink it or go without.
By way of cheering the party up, Coyote Pete began to sing—or rather wail—in the high-pitched voice affected by cow-punchers singing to their cattle:
“O-ho-wa-hay da-own upon the Su-wahanee River,
Fa-har, fa-har a-way——”