"Wish we'd run across some big horns or goats," grumbled Dick, wiping his forehead.
"Too early for that, Dick. They don't often come down below the timber line," said Havens.
"Sort of high-livers, eh?" laughed Dave.
"Yes, and look down on most of the other critters, though painters often get after 'em."
At each open space, the quartet looked anxiously aloft, but there was always another ridge ahead and the summit seemed as far away as ever.
"Don't believe we can get any nearer," grumbled Dave. "This mountain's growing. Bet we're further away than when we started."
"There! Another cloud has bumped into the old thing," broke in Dick.
"Crickets, seems funny to have clouds coming to meet us," remarked Dick. "Gee! The wind is getting a bit too strong for comfort."
A harsh scream suddenly startled the boys, and, as they looked overhead, a bird with great, spreading wings soared above the tree tops.
"A bald eagle," said Havens. "We might have plugged the old robber."