"Don't you worry," replied Jim. "If we once get our party together we will stand them off."
We now left the summit of the long ridge and rode down a long spur that tended down into a deep cross valley.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Three o'clock," he replied, "we will soon hear the roosters crowing."
In an hour's time we had reached the depth of the valley. It must have been beautiful a few hours before, but now it was as black as the Valley of The Shadow.
"Look here, Jim, there's quite a stream," I cried.
"Good luck," yelled Jim. "Now our horses can have a drink."
They certainly made the most of it. The water throbbed down their long throats in regular piston strokes. No matter if the water was discolored and tasted of ashes and charcoal, Santa, too, made the most of it.
After the ponies had satisfied their thirst we crossed to the opposite side and Jim scanned the barren bulk of the mountain that rose above us. He was looking for the best line of ascent.
"Jo, did you hear that?" exclaimed Jim in great excitement.