After two hours of saddle-work, the moon came up over the hills, round and bright. The landscape came out distinctly under its brilliant beams.
“How much farther, Dell?” called the scout.
“We’re almost there,” the girl answered. “This valley, through which we are now traveling, runs down to the shore of the lake.”
The valley referred to by Dell was broad and shallow, and it became broader and more shallow as they followed it, finally giving way to the flat desert, which sloped in front of them to the edge of a level of bubbling sand.
“There’s the lake,” said Dell.
“Where’s the island?”
“It’s off to the right, about forty feet from the shore.”
“It’s a quicksand lake, is it?”
“Exactly so, Buffalo Bill, and true in every particular to its name. It is oblong in shape, and measures two hundred yards across its narrowest, and three hundred yards across its widest, part.”
“There’s no reef of solid ground between the shore and the island?”