The captain's big, flaming handkerchief came out, to mop his face in a vigorous fashion.
"Roll me down a timber slide if—if—"
Words seemed to fail him; he paused, while Pete Colliver looked on in open-mouthed wonder.
"Hey, Jimmy, d'ye pipe that?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "They're crawlin' a'ready—skeered."
"An' the old un has losted his nerve."
"Yes—bust it; an' his voice, too!"
"Git out, ye little toad. I won't hev ye a-walkin' on the same ground as I do. It's a positive wonder that grin o' yourn don't start a landslide big nuff ter kiver up all the gold. Come on, lads!"
The lumberman began leading his mustang away, while Bob, with a "Get your broncs, fellows!" started after his own, which stood close by.
Not far down the slope, in a little bowl-shaped valley washed at the foot by the swirling torrent, Bob Somers and Captain Slater, sitting on a boulder, awaited the others.
Dick and Jack were the first to arrive.