A chorus of affirmatives greeted his question.
"Then mount, and we'll be off. They've gone on ahead last night with the tents and foodstuff, so that we'll find things in pretty much shipshape when we get on the ground."
"Say, they do things right out in this big country, eh?" said Bluff to Frank as the two of them galloped off in company.
The morning was fair and the air sharp enough to be bracing.
"Never saw anything to equal the atmosphere here," remarked Frank as their host came alongside. "There seems to be a tonic in it that even we do not have up in Maine or the Adirondacks. It makes you feel like shouting all the time."
"
Everybody says the same when they first come. Presently you will grow accustomed to its invigorating tone, and quiet down. It is caused by the dry air. We are a long way from the Atlantic, and these mighty mountains to the west act as a buffer to the moisture-laden air from the Pacific."
Crossing the valley, they were soon penetrating among the foothills at the base of the great uplifts, the tops of which bore eternal snow.
Wilder grew the scenery as they penetrated deeper into the wilderness. Frank and his chums were almost awed by the grandeur of their surroundings. At the same time, Jerry kept an eager eye on the watch for signs of game. The sportsman spirit was strong in his nature, and generally forged to the front.
It was Frank, however, who first chanced to spy something that excited his attention.