"That gets bigger, or it runs into something before it's gone far. That's our chance, boys."
Nothing could be surer, for all the brooks in the world do that very thing.
Besides, that brook was running in the direction in which the miners wanted to go, and they now pushed forward more rapidly.
"If I knew where the Apache village was," said the Captain, "I'd go near enough to see if we could pick up some ponies. But we won't waste any time looking for it."
The men had plenty of comments to make, but not one of them was willing to set up his own judgment against that of the ragged little Captain. They would never have seen that village if it had not been for the river itself.
The brook was a true guide. In due time it led the miners to the place where it poured its little contribution into the larger stream, and that looked wider and gloomier by night than by day.
"No ford right here, boys. The water runs too still and quiet. We must follow it down."
"Why not follow it up, Captain?"
"Swamps. Can't you see?"
"Wall, no, I can't."