For two days they followed the emigrant trail eastward; but on the third they left it and struck off into the mountains. Raymond led them unerringly, but his sullen temper endured.
The fifth day they made their longest march, and it was dark when they went into camp.
“To-morrow I'll show you what you've come to see,” said Raymond, as he drew his blankets about him, and stretched himself on the ground preparatory to sleep. Yet the following morning, after they had eaten their breakfast, he still lingered by the camp-fire, and it was only after much urging on the part of Hickman that he took himself off to bring up the horses, but he returned with only two of them.
“Where's your horse and the pack-mule?” demanded Hickman angrily.
“I shan't need 'em to-day,” answered Raymond.
“Why not?”
“This is the place, do you see that hill off yonder? I reckon you'll find what you're looking for there.”
“We'll go there then—at once,” said Benson, drawing in his breath quickly.
Raymond fell back a step at his words.
“You and Bill go. I been there before. I'm not going again. You'll see where I buried 'em, where the banks of a wash are heaved in. You and Bill go look.”