"You have me there. But I want to take a day off from that river. I'll chance it with the two of you to-morrow."
"Good," said the "poet." "We won't give up till we have to. I wouldn't mind it half so much if we had anything to eat besides——"
But Bob cut him short. "Don't say it, Chubby," he remarked dolefully. "I'm trying to forget 'em."
"And I can't," added Sam.
The hours dragged wearily by. Sometimes they lolled on the ground, watching the high clouds floating slowly across, then wandered around in search of food.
"Blackberry Valley—nothing else here," sighed Bob.
As long as daylight lasted and the glow of the afternoon sun gilded the clouds, they kept up their courage, but the approach of night filled them with dread. It grew dark very soon within the rocky confines, and the barren gray walls wore a cheerless aspect.
The three hungry and worried boys were again obliged to partake of the much despised fruit, after which they returned, as before, to the river.
Sleep, in spite of their weariness, seemed out of the question. The stars came out against the darkening sky, and shone brilliantly.
"Oh, how I hate the nights in Blackberry Valley," groaned Bob.