"I—I don't—can't understand it," quavered Tom.
"The lumberjacks are up there; the jig's up, too," pronounced Jack, dejectedly.
"But—but"—stammered Dick—"just look at the way we've traveled. They must be birds."
"A straight line is the shortest distance between two points; guess those chaps managed to keep closer to it than we have," came from Dave.
The crowd could not shake off the gloomy feelings which beset them. The horsemen had disappeared, but they kept staring up at the white patch of rocks, half expecting to see other riders pass across its surface.
"Knew it was goin' to be a wild goose chase by a pack o' wild geese."
"Oh, is that so, Jacky?" cried Tim, hotly. "An' but for that megaphone voice o' yours you might be chirpin' a different tale."
"Here—don't you dare blame it on me! Never spoke 'bout it yourself, I s'pose? Oh, no! Nobody did but me, eh?"
"I don't care what you say, Conroy; it's all your fault. I told you—everybody did."
"Cut it out!" Jack made a threatening gesture. "Cut it out, or you'll take a tumble, an' a mighty large-sized one!"