“Well,” said he, as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his slippered feet before the fire, “it appears to come to this: instead of discovering a way to drain ‘the forty rods,’ you have only provided us with another insoluble problem to puzzle our heads over. There seems to be no way that we can figure out—at present, anyhow—by which the water can be brought to the surface, and consequently our only resource is, apparently, to discover, if possible, where it first runs in under the lava-bed, to come squirting out again down in that fissure—an almost hopeless task, I fear.”
“It does look pretty hopeless,” Joe assented; “though we have found out one thing, at least, which may be of service in our search, and that is that the water runs between the lava and the sandstone. That fact should be of some help to us, for it removes from the list of streams to be examined all those whose beds lie below the sandstone.”
“That’s true enough,” I agreed. “But, then again, the source may not be some mountain stream running off under the lava, as we have been supposing. It is quite possible that it is a spring which comes up through the sandstone, and not being able to get up to daylight because of the lava-cap, goes worming its way through innumerable crevices to the underground reservoir we suppose to exist somewhere beneath the surface of the Second Mesa.”
“That is certainly a possibility,” replied my father. “Nevertheless, it is my opinion that it will be well worth while making an examination of the creeks on Mount Lincoln. The streams to search would be those running on a sandstone bed and coming against the upper face of the lava-flow. It is worth the attempt, at least, and when the snow clears off you boys shall employ any off-days you may have in that way.”
“It would be well, wouldn’t it, to tell Tom Connor about it?” suggested Joe. “He would keep his eyes open for us. I suppose prospectors as a rule don’t take much note of such things, but Tom would do so, I’m sure, if we asked him.”
“Yes,” replied my father. “That is a good idea; and if either of you should come across your friend, the hermit, again, be sure to ask him. He knows Mount Lincoln as nobody else does, and if he had ever noticed anything of the sort he would tell us. Don’t forget that. And now to bed.”