"Not ten miles, as the crow flies."
"We can reach it before day, then?"
"Yes—if we wish. But, frankly, I don't think we had better go there, at least not before to-morrow night."
"Why so?"
"Well, there is a risk. To be sure they may not think it worth while to make any search for us, when our disappearance is found out, yet still they may, especially as the most dangerous portion of the trail is near at hand. You see three rifles such as ours would count in case of an attack."
"If I thought there was the slightest danger of that, I would return at once," suddenly cried Wythe, thinking of Lottie Mitchell.
"I don't think there is. You remember the treaty we heard of at the fort? The Indians are all peaceable, now. But, as I was saying, they may try to follow our trail, and if we lay it straight to the pocket, ten to one that Paul Chicot picks it out with those keen eyes of his. Then? Instead of a fortune, we'd have only a few ounces apiece, and perhaps have to fight for that. You know the material many of the emigrants are composed of. Brave men enough, but rather peculiar in their ideas of honesty. It would be 'divide or fight!' and as I found the pocket, I consider our claim is the best."
"You are right there, Paley. But you decide. Whatever you think best, we will agree to. You agree, Tyrrel?"
"Yes; Duplin is captain."
"Very well, then. We will strike over there toward those hills, and hide there until certain that all fear of pursuit is over. Then to the pocket and clean it out, after which—ho! for home!"