"Submerged stumps or trees," McCarty explained. "We often come upon them in our digging. They are generally big, hard as iron, and mean to get out. One does not see them until the bucket hits them, and then the machine is too close to use dynamite."
"Queer," the other commented.
"Yes," McCarty agreed. "There are forests buried below us, I suppose. The process of building up and tearing down goes on all the time. In the centuries to come, likely, these trees around us will be buried in turn, and another forest rise above them."
"The Lord moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform," quoted the Captain reverently.
While this conversation was going on, Charley had slipped away from the little circle unnoticed, and stepped softly out into the darkness. He had not gone far before he was halted by an abrupt challenge and a leveled rifle.
"It's the boss," he said, in answer to the challenge. "Where's Gomez?"
"Gomez is on the other side of the camp," answered the sentinel in Spanish. "Each of us make a half circle of camp, meet, and turn back again. No one can go or come unnoticed."
"Esto bueno. Bueno nosche, hombre." (It is good. Good night, man.)
"Bueno nosche, señor," replied the Spaniard politely, and Charley strolled back to the fire, satisfied that the night guards were doing their duty.
"Jim," he said, to the teamster, "I want to use one of the mules to-morrow. You've got enough wood hauled to last a couple of days. You can keep right on chopping while I'm gone. Take Juan out with you. He is to be your regular helper. Now, which mule had I better take?"