Leaving their mustangs to gather a supper from the scanty herbage in their neighborhood, the two friends made their way to the brook. It had seemed very near, but proved to be fully a quarter of a mile away. When they reached it they brought their guns into requisition, and soon obtained an appetizing mess of trout, which only needed the service of fire to make a meal fit for an epicure.
"I can hardly wait to have them cooked," sard Ben. "I'm as hungry as a hunter. I understand what that means now."
"I sha'n't have any trouble in keeping up with you, Ben," said his companion. "We'll have a supper fit for a king."
They gathered some dry sticks, and soon a fire was blazing, which, in the cool night air, sent out a welcome heat.
After supper they lay down on their backs and looked up into the darkening sky. Ben felt that it was a strange situation. They were in the heart of the Sierras, miles, perhaps many miles, away from any human being, thousands of miles away from the quiet village where Ben had first seen the light. Yet he did not feel disturbed or alarmed. His wanderings had inspired self-reliance, and he did not allow himself to be troubled with anxious cares about the future. If by a wish he could have been conveyed back to his uncle's house in the far East, he would have declined to avail himself of the privilege. He had started out to make a living for himself, and he was satisfied that if he persevered he would succeed in the end.
"What are you thinking about, Ben?" asked Bradley, after a long pause.
"I was thinking how strange it seems to be out here among the mountains," answered Ben, still gazing on the scenery around him.
"I don't see anything strange about it," said his less imaginative comrade. "Seein' we came here on our horses, it would be strange to be anywhere else."
"I mean it is strange to think we are so far away from everybody."
"I don't foller you, Ben. I suppose it's sorter lonelylike, but that ain't new to me."