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<h3>Chapter Ten.</h3> <h4>On the Way.</h4> Ned was ready to laugh at his scare when riding forward in the sunshine of a brilliant morning. He had been awakened by Griggs with a cheery hail, to find the cool damp air of morning impregnated with the agreeable odour of coffee fuming away over the embers of a crackling fire which showed up the browsing animals here and there in the darkness. Then came a hearty breakfast, over which the day’s proceedings were discussed, and the doctor’s decision accepted that they could not do better than strike right away in the direction of the hill seen the previous afternoon, making that their observatory for deciding future proceedings. “Our plan of campaign is simple enough,” he said; “we must avoid all traces of civilisation, and keep to the wilds. The rest lies with chance and good fortune.” It was only beginning to get light when all set to loading up the mules, to find it nearly as hard a task as before; but it was mastered, a sharp lookout given round to make sure that nothing was left behind, and then the order was given, “Forward!” Griggs led off once more, with the biting mule’s bell jingling, and the low brush, wet with dew, giving out a peculiar rustling as it was trampled down or passed through, the direction of the hill being determined by compass, the result of their leader’s observation taken the day before. But soon after the darkness grew grey, there was a faint band visible in the heavens which gradually broadened, trees started into view to right and left, and after progressing some distance in silence, Chris and Ned, who had taken up their positions on starting right and left of Griggs, began to find their tongues and make remarks about the faint streaks of orange colour which lit up the zenith. Soon after it was as if the coming light of day was illumining them as well as the landscape, and they ended by asking questions and then talking loudly about what had passed in the night. Griggs was ready enough to reply in a bantering, boyish spirit in response to one of Chris’s questions. “Yes,” he said; “your dad roused me up out of about the most delicious sleep I ever remember to have had. Oh, it’s just grand sleeping out in the open. You have so much room to breathe.” “Why, you slept in the house place the same as we did,” cried Ned. “I saw where you lay down.” “Likely enough, but you didn’t see me get up again. It was too hot and stuffy in there, with things creeping into your hair and ears. I soon got up and shook them off so as to go and pick a place near where the doctor was watching, so that he should know where to find me. Then I lay down on one of nature’s own spring mattresses, made by spreading a blanket over the sage-brush, and the next minute I was asleep.” “But suppose there had been a rattler under where you lay down?” cried Ned. “Well, then he’d have just had time to take one bite at the blanket and fill his teeth full of wool before I’d squeezed him flat. I weigh nigh upon twelve stone, horseman’s weight, and that would have taken all the music out of his tail if he’d been there. But don’t you make any mistake about those gentlemen; they’ve an ugly way of biting if they’re obliged, but from what I know, the first thing a rattler does when he hears feet coming is to take himself away somewhere so that no one shall tread on his music.” It was then that Chris annoyed his companion by relating the night alarm, though Ned was ready enough to join in the laugh against himself. “Say,” said Griggs suddenly, as they passed a clump of trees standing like an island upon a little elevation above the monotonous plain which had succeeded the oasis where the fruit-farm lay in the solitude, and he pointed off to his left. “Say what? Can you see anything?” asked Chris. “Yes; ain’t that the hill we’ve got to make ’smorning?” “Yes; of course,” cried Chris, shading his eyes from the level sunbeams. “Then we’re leaving it too much to the left.” The opinion was endorsed before anything had been done, by an order from their leader, who had been using his glass, and now shouted from the rear that they should bear off to the left and then make straight for the elevation dimly-seen like a low cloud in their front. “Our boss is going to keep us all up to the mark, and no mistake,” said Griggs, “only I hope he’s going to play fair with us.” “Why, of course he will,” cried Chris indignantly. “I don’t know,” said the American, with a curious smile about the corners of his lips and a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t think he was quite square in the night.” “Why not?” “Well, you see, he had to rouse me up to relieve him about midnight, when I was in such a beautiful sleep that it was a sin to break it, and what does he do but snap it in two about an hour before he ought.” “I don’t believe he would,” cried Chris. “No, you don’t, because he’s your father. He ain’t my father, and so I believe he did.” “But did you look at your watch?” “Nay, but I felt as if his must have been an hour too fast if he looked at it and found it twelve o’clock. Say, we might as well let watches take their chance now, and trust to the sun. He don’t want any winding up, and we shall have plenty to do without seeing to keys and that sort of thing.” “I shall keep mine wound up,” said Chris decisively. “So shall I,” cried Ned. “We don’t want to turn savages because we are going into the wilds.” “Just as you like, squires, but you’ll do more good, I say, by being sure to wind up your revolvers and setting your rifles ready to strike one or two when they’re wanted. I say, we must talk to the boss about having some shooting if we see a chance.” “There’s one then for the shot-barrel,” cried Chris excitedly, as he pointed to a hare—a jack-rabbit, as they called it—just startled by their animals’ feet, and bounding away as hard as he could go. “Nay, we’re not going to waste powder and shot upon those things. I don’t like that bitter sort of meat.” “They are bitter,” observed Ned. “My father says it’s because they eat so many of the artemisia shoots.” “Eh? What shoots?” cried Griggs. “Artemisia—this stuff we’re riding through.” “Oh, the sage-brush! Well, p’r’aps it is, but I allus thought it was from swallowing so much alkali dust. Regular soda plain, this.” “What are we likely to find farther on, Griggs?” said Chris, after that gentleman had been remonstrating a little with the bell-mule for trying to bite Ned’s mustang, the said remonstrating being performed with the butt of his rifle, which had to be applied hard upon the vicious animal’s head. “What are we likely to find to shoot?” replied Griggs, with a satisfied grunt, for the mule was plodding steadily on again. “Well, Indians.” “But we can’t eat them,” cried Chris, laughing. “No, my lad; I should say buck Indian would be as tough as his own teepee (skin lodge, hut, or tent). Matter o’ taste, though, I s’pose. No cannibal that I ever heard of in our family.” “No nonsense, Griggs,” said Ned. “What are we really likely to find?” “The gold if we’re lucky,” said the American dryly. “I mean, what are we likely to shoot for the pot?” “All depends how far south we get, and whether we come into woods and mountains. If we strike them we may drop upon a flock of gobblers now and then.” “What! Turkeys?” “Yes.” “Splendid!” cried the boys in a breath. “But do you really think we shall find them?” “Like enough; if we’re far enough away from settlements and Indians.” “But if we don’t find turkeys, what then?” asked Chris. “I dunno. We’re going into the wildest parts we can find, places that haven’t been hunted over. We might come upon buffalo or a deer now and then. All depends upon our getting into quite lonely spots. But there you are,” continued the speaker, pointing with his piece, and then administering another punch to the mule, who was beginning to smile previous to making a bite. “What are you pointing at?” asked Ned. “Can’t you see those birds skimming along just over the brush, my lads?” “No,” said Ned. “Yes,” cried Chris. “I see them—partridges.” “Something of that kind. Prairie hens, or cocks. They’re good to eat sometimes.” “Of course; we’ve often had them.” “Here, I must cut a good thick cudgel first chance on purpose for this lovely playful insect here. We ought to christen him Mosquito. He’s always trying for a bite out of something—hungry beggar. I say, dessay he wouldn’t mind trying a bit of Indian.” “Give him another punch with your rifle.” “No!” cried Griggs emphatically. “Never again. I did that idiotic thing twice over before I thought what a fool I was towards myself, and teaching you two lads at the same time.” “How? What do you mean?” “Doing what is sure to mean an accident some day. Can’t you see, one holds by the barrel and reaches down the butt?” “Of course.” “Well, some day that means jarring the rifle off and sending its charge into you who hold the barrel. Never try such a thing, whatever you do. It’s the work of an idiot, my lads. A man that does such a thing oughtn’t to be trusted with a gun.” “Then we ought to take Mr Nathaniel Griggs’ rifle away from him, Ned,” said Chris, with mock seriousness. “Ah, you may laugh, my lads, but I deserve it,” said the American seriously. “It gave me a cold shudder just now when I thought of what a mad thing I had done. There’s more fooling about with guns than people think. Every now and then a donkey comes into a room, sees a gun, picks it up, and presents it, saying to some one, ‘I’ll shoot you,’ and pulls the trigger, bringing some poor fellow down. If ever you see any one aim at a person with a gun, knock him over, and save accident. A poor boy or girl is shot, and then the idiot says, ‘Oh, I didn’t know it was loaded!’ It oughtn’t to have been, but at such times guns generally are. I don’t know how many accidents of that kind I’ve heard of. We’re always going to be carrying our pieces on this journey, and never ought to have one out of our hands, so we should be the more careful. I don’t want to be buried out here in the desert, nor yet go home again without a head. What would be the use of the gold to me then?” he added, with a dry chuckle. “Ah, what indeed?” said Chris seriously. “But don’t talk about it. I say, when you were keeping watch in the night, did you hear or see anything?” “Didn’t see much, but I seemed to hear a good deal that was a bit strange.” “What?” asked Chris eagerly. “Oh, I don’t know; creepy sounds in the black darkness under the trees, and splashings in the big pool, just as if it was full of six-foot alligators waiting for something or some one to eat.” “I heard that,” said Chris; “but it was only fish.” “Like enough, my lad. I never heard of any ’gators in these parts. Hallo! That was something.—Nearly had me off.” “A snake!” cried Chris, for Griggs’ mustang had suddenly plunged, bounding sidewise with a jerk to its rider which nearly sent him out of his saddle. “Rattler, I expect; nearly trod on him. Isn’t bitten, or he wouldn’t go on so quietly,” added the American, turning in his saddle to look back at the trampled track they had made through the brush, but nothing was to be seen. “Oughtn’t we to ride back and warn the others?” said Chris. “No need, my lad; that gentleman, if he was a rattler, has gone to earth fast enough, and won’t show himself till we’re gone. Yes, I don’t think my nag was touched. I shouldn’t like that. Deal rather Master Skeeter here got it. A bite would make him smile and look more handsome than he does now.” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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