“Jim, you did a good job,” approved Hippy.
“Had it not been for your vigilance we might have lost a lot more. We will remember you when we settle up at the end of our journey.”
“Yes. We are much obliged to you,” agreed Tom Gray.
“Did you get a good look at them—would you know those men were you to see them again?” questioned Grace.
“No. It was too dark where they was standin’. I couldn’t see what they looked like.”
“We will look about after daylight and see if we can discover anything,” replied Grace. “I would suggest that Mr. Badger sit up and watch the camp for the rest of the night.”
Badger said he would. The Overlanders then went back to bed, Stacy still grumbling over the loss of his fifty cents. No further disturbance annoyed the camp that night. Shortly after daylight all hands were out looking for trail signs left by the night prowlers, but not even a footprint was found, though Nora did pick up a red handkerchief that had undoubtedly been dropped by one of the thieves. This was of no value as a clew, for nearly all western riders wore them.
The start up the mountain was made after an early breakfast, and the Overlanders rode away in high spirits, the guide leading the way, frequently halting to permit his charges to gaze down on the view spread before their eyes. The broad plateau below was dotted with clouds of vapor, and occasionally a tall column of water and steam from an erupting geyser reared high in the air. It was rough traveling, and now and then they were obliged to dismount and lead their mounts up some steep rise of rocks. A cold luncheon was eaten, and then the journey was resumed.
“Do you see any place that looks good to make camp?” called Hippy.
The guide said he did not.