About half an hour later, Dave Brandon eased himself slowly to his feet.
"Weather to-day threatening and showery, fellows," he remarked, cheerily. "To-night, clear and colder."
"That will do, Chub," said Bob, ruefully. "Wow—but I am glad the rain is letting up."
"And the wind going down," chimed in Dick, his teeth chattering. "I feel worse than an icicle."
"It's colder than all outdoors," added Jim, with a tremendous shiver. "What shall we do?"
"Nothing—just wait for things to get better," answered the philosophical Dave.
The wind continued brisk, and the boys felt it so keenly that they were glad to keep their chilled bodies in motion.
"It's so steep I don't see how we can get much higher," observed Dick Travers. "Say—where are you going, Jim Havens?"
Their guide, his eyes bent on the rock, was crawling upon hands and knees toward a ledge that overhung a steep declivity.
"Plenty of signs of goats, fellows," he cried. "Look!" And Bob, who had followed, saw that the surface was worn and indented by the tread of countless hoofs.