"I see. So the nearest water is the stream running through the village. Do you propose, then, to make for Hermanos?"
"No, I don't," replied Dick. "We want to avoid the village, if possible: it is no use exciting the curiosity of old Galvez, if he happens to be there. What I propose is that we make straight from here to the north side of the peaks, leaving the village three or four miles on our left; find a good camping-place, and make it a base for our preliminary operations."
"That's all right," I assented. "But how much of a day's ride will it be to the north side of the peaks? Further than to Hermanos, I suppose, and that is over twenty miles."
"Yes," replied Dick, "twenty-five miles certainly and perhaps thirty—a long stretch without water. But we can do it all right. I propose that we get off by four in the morning, which ought to bring us to the foothills of the Dos Hermanos by two or three o'clock in the afternoon."
"That's a good idea," I responded. "And if, by bad luck, we should find that we can't make it, we can always turn off and head for the village if we have to."
"Yes. So let us get to bed early. It will be a hard day at best, and we may as well get all the sleep we can."
As my companion had predicted, the morrow did turn out to be a tough day, and it began early, too. It was about half-past three in the morning that I was awakened by the crackling of the fire, and sitting up in my blankets, I saw Dick squatted on his heels, frying bacon over some of the hot embers.
"Time to turn out, Frank," said he. "Breakfast will be ready in two minutes; feeling pretty hungry this morning?"
By way of reply, I opened my mouth with a yawn so prodigious that Dick laughingly continued: