But they need not have been afraid. Fond as the Motor Rangers, all three, were of exercising their "twenty-twos" on any "small deer" that came in sight, their minds, just then, were far too much occupied to think of hunting.
"See the boat yet, Nat?" inquired Joe Hartley, a stalwart, sun-bronzed lad of about seventeen. He addressed a boy of about his own age, who rode slightly in advance of the rest. Like Joe, Nat Trevor was attired in typical mountaineer's costume, set off by a jaunty sombrero with a leather band round the crown.
Nat turned in his saddle.
"I could hardly sight her yet, Joe," he rejoined. "But she'll be there on time. Captain Akers would not disappoint me, I know."
"Y-y-y-y-you've go-go-got acres of f-f-f-faith in him, so to speak," came from the third young rider in line, Ding-dong—otherwise William,—Bell, of course.
Nat shook his quirt at the stuttering lad with mock anger.
"If you don't stop your everlasting punning, Ding-dong, I'll—I'll——"
"Have ter leave him behind. I reckon that would be the worst punishment for him," struck in a loosely built, bronzed man, who rode behind Ding-dong and sat his horse with the easy grace of the practised rider. His leather "chaps," blue shirt, and red handkerchief, carelessly knotted about his sun-burned throat, also proclaimed him a typical westerner of the Sierran region. And so he was, for most of our readers will by this time have recognized in him Cal Gifford, the former driver of the Lariat stage, who had so materially aided our young Motor Rangers in their adventures in the wild region which now lay behind them. All of these stirring incidents were related in a previous volume of this series, "The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras."
By a hair rope, which was "half-hitched" round the horn of his saddle, Cal led an exceedingly small burro, with sagely flapping ears. The animal bore a big canvas pack, which, besides containing the provisions of the party on their dash from the mountains to the coast, carried also the object of their expedition—namely, the box of sapphires found in the dead miner's—Elias Gooddale's—cabin.
On the return of the boys to Big Oak Flat from their Sierran excursion they had found themselves facing the problem of the safe conveyance of the precious stones to a community of law and order where they might be placed in the proper hands till Elias Gooddale's heirs could be found.