"You'd be wasting time, that's all."
"Where are the fords—or the ferries—or however one crosses the river?"
Dakota glanced furtively up into the Professor's guileless face and looked across at Cockney before replying.
"Course there ain't no ferries. Never saw a blessed bone on the other side anyway."
"The only ford about here," volunteered Cockney, "is a mile or so to the east."
"West it's all canyon," added Dakota.
"By the way," asked Cockney, "do you ride any better than you drive?"
Professor Bulkeley shrugged his great shoulders.
"I regret to admit that it's not one of my few accomplishments."
"Not ride?" Dakota broke into a relieved laugh. "Then you don't need to worry about anything further away than four miles—you'll never get there. You can't drive over these prairies, you know. They ain't as smooth as they look. Wait till you've tried it."