“Do you see anything?” shouted Sandy.
Toma clung to the topmost branches, swaying there nearly seventy-five feet above their heads, a dark blur against a background of blue sky. He made no answer to Sandy’s shouted inquiry, in fact refusing to divulge any information until he had clambered down again and stood there on the knoll beside them.
“I find ’em curve all right,” he announced gleefully, brushing away the fragments of bark which clung to his clothing. “You laugh when I tell you only two miles down river. I see very plain from top of tree. River come out on this side nearly quarter-mile before it turn go back again.”
Sandy clapped his hands joyfully.
“What luck! Toma, you old rascal.”
“I find out something else too,” continued the guide, pleased at the impression he was making. “In place where river turns, I see another big ravine where river flow long time ago. Mebbe it just about place where you find ’em mine.”
Waiting to hear no more, Sandy, overcome with a fever of excitement, rushed over to the pack-horses again.
“Let’s hurry,” he called, beginning to gather up their supplies.
“Come on, Dick, get a move on! Toma, you’ll have to pack these brutes yourself. I never could throw a diamond hitch. Gee, but I’m excited.”
Dick had never seen Sandy quite like this before. His chum’s face was flushed; his eyes glowed brightly.