By that time they had ridden many miles and were saddle-weary. The horses, too, showed the effect of hard work.
“We’d ought to breathe them awhile,” Dig urged, for he was very careful of horseflesh.
“Not yet. I’m sorry for them,” Chet said, “but we’ve got to keep moving just as long as daylight holds, at least. You know, we don’t know this country after dark, and that Steve evidently does.”
“But we must be travelling almost two miles to their one,” Dig said.
“Granted. But they may be going more directly to that island than we,” Chet told him. “Though I believe this stream we’re following empties into the very river we’re in search of.”
“We never saw this creek before.”
“No. It’s a good deal farther south than the way we came with those rascals.”
“Well! I reckon you know, Chet.”
“I know the points of the compass,” returned his friend. “The sun doesn’t fool us.”
“Of course—we’re going toward Silver Run again, not toward Grub Stake.”