But the Trembling Mountain still lay far from them. Following that bivouac at the foot of the somber chain of mountains, they made their way for some days through the most magnificent scenery they had ever seen. Even Grizzly Pass could show nothing to compare with it. It was an enchanted land of soaring peaks, deep and narrow canyons in whose depths lay perpetual twilight, mighty cliffs and crags and leaping waterfalls.
Sometimes on topping an eminence they could see far off to the southwest a circle of snowy peaks vaunting it above their timber clothed brethren. From some of these peaks issued columns of blue smoke. Somewhere among those smoldering volcanoes, the professor told them, lay the object of their quest. At noon every day careful observations were taken, but they still pressed onward, the mystery and charm of their quest increasing all the time.
Often, seated about the campfire, they discussed the possibility of the Ramon gang having trailed them; but the consensus of opinion was that they had succeeded in throwing the rascals off their tracks.
“But the scoundrels are keen on the scent where gold or treasure is concerned,” said Ralph one evening, “and I’ll bet that if they are not now on our trail they are trying to get upon it. I’ve got a private presentiment that we are not destined to land that treasure without a struggle.”
“If only we could encounter those Mexican Rangers of Colonel Alverado’s, our task would be easier,” said Jack. “I’ve a good mind to look about at daylight to-morrow before we get under way, and see if I can discover some trace of them.”
“Not a bad idea,” assented the professor, “the Don said that his men were off in this section somewhere, as it was suspected that the rascally gang of which Ramon is the head would make in this direction to seek shelter in the wild fastnesses.”
The next day, dawn had hardly made things visible before Jack was stirring, and saddling the big horse which they had taken from the Mexican outlaws at the lone rancho, set forth on his quest. They had wished to leave this horse as a present to Don Alverado for his kindness, but the Don would not hear of it. He argued that they might need an extra horse, and his words had proven true. The extra animal had come in handy once or twice when one or another of their own mounts was crippled temporarily by the rough mountain roads.
Jack did not set out without an objective point. This was the summit of a cliff at some distance which he felt sure he could reach by a sort of natural trail he had observed from below. It was going to be risky, though. To begin with, the trail was too narrow for him to turn back if he found it ended abruptly, but it was the only way of reaching the cliff top, and Jack felt that only from there could he obtain a good view of the surrounding country.
To his relieved surprise, however, the trail, though narrow enough in places to give a timid rider heart failure, was yet wide enough toward the summit to afford a foothold to a sure-footed horse like the one he bestrode. After about half an hour of breath-catching riding, the Border Boy at length reached the top. As he had anticipated, the view from there was as extended as it was magnificent. Peak after peak in serried ranks stretched away on every side. Deep canyons lay between them, with here and there a solitary eagle soaring above the dark depths. The sky above was a blinding blue, and the newly risen sun shone brightly, but yet, at that great altitude, Jack felt chilled.
But if he had expected to see the smoke of campfires, or spy a distant line of moving dots on this vast panorama, he was mistaken. No human note marred the impressive solemnity of the scene. Jack Merrill, poised with his horse on the cliff top, might have been the only being in the world for any evidence to the contrary.