"When?"
"As soon as it is dawn."
"How far is it from here?"
"Not more than a hundred and fifty miles."
Frank held up a moistened finger. The air was as calm as a mill-pond.
"We can make that distance in a little more than four hours," he announced.
It was Sikaso's turn to be astonished.
"Of a truth the magic of the white man is not as the magic of the black man, but it is good," he said; "yes, it is good. In four hours. That is indeed mighty magic."
"Who can the old man be whom we saw with them?" asked Harry eagerly, his mind no longer containing an ounce of skepticism to the marvels he had seen.
"I have no idea," rejoined Frank, "but he was white evidently."