as signal to 'em. We'll have to look for the other fellers."
"What kind of a camp, an' whereabouts?" Freegift asked, as he and Terry and Stub greedily munched.
"Oh, a good camp, in the open, not fur from the river."
Hugh and Bill acted oddly—with manner mysterious as if they were keeping something back. After the meal, Hugh opened up.
"Now that you've eaten, guess I'll tell you what's happened," he blurted. "You'll know it, anyhow."
"Anybody dead? Not the cap'n!"
"No. Nothing like that. But this ain't the river."
"Ain't the Red River?"
"Nope."
The three stared, dazed.
"What river might it be, then?" gasped Freegift
"The Arkansaw ag'in. An' camp's located on that very same spot in the dry valley where we struck north last December, scarce a month ago!"[1]
- ↑ That was the remarkable and disappointing fact. From the heads of the Platte River they simply had passed south-westward to the head of the Arkansas, had fought their way down through the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas to the Royal Gorge, and crossing around this were completing a big circle to the Cañon City region again.
