“You never can tell,” grinned Dick.
“I’m afraid the Rambler Club won’t solve any mysteries on this trip,” insisted Larry.
“Don’t you fool yourself,” retorted Tom. “Wait and see.”
In another half hour the lads were approaching a range of hills, rather higher and wilder-looking than any encountered before. Great numbers of cattle bearing Jerry Duncan’s brand grazing on the plain and up over the slopes gave a cheering indication that somewhere among the rolling ridges his ranch-house was located.
Thunderbolt assured them that any one unacquainted with the topography of the country would have a hard task to find it.
“Why in the dickens did they ever build in such a place?” cried Tom.
“Much nice,” said Thunderbolt. “In winter wind no so strong. A creek close by and many trees.”
After skirting the hills for about a mile the young Indian halted, and pointed to a deeply-shadowed break in their rugged slopes.
“We go through pass,” he explained.
“It’s a rather wild-looking place,” commented Dave.