"I don't think there is. You remember the treaty we heard of at the fort? The Indians are all peaceable, now. But, as I was saying, they _may_ try to follow our trail, and if we lay it straight to the pocket, ten to one that Paul Chicot picks it out with those keen eyes of his. Then? Instead of a fortune, we'd have only a few ounces apiece, and perhaps have to fight for that. You know the material many of the emigrants are composed of. Brave men enough, but rather peculiar in their ideas of honesty. It would be 'divide or fight!' and as I found the pocket, I consider our claim is the best." "You are right there, Paley. But you decide. Whatever you think best, we will agree to. You agree, Tyrrel?" "Yes; Duplin is captain." "Very well, then. We will strike over there toward those hills, and hide there until certain that all fear of pursuit is over. Then to the pocket and clean it out, after which--ho! for home!" With long, swift strides, Duplin, greatly excited no doubt by the picture his last words had conjured up before his mind's eye, led the way toward the hill alluded to, that rose abruptly, high into the air, rocky, broken and wild-looking. After him trudged Burr and Jack, little dreaming of the strange adventure that was to meet them there, in the heart of that wild, desolate spot. Duplin, who by his superior age and experience, naturally assumed the position of leader during the adventure, soon selected a spot where the trio could very comfortably remain concealed during the ensuing day; should their fear of a pursuit prove correct, and at the same time one not entirely devoid of comfort. Entering a narrow, level valley, on one side of which uprose an almost perpendicular cliff, its face scarred and jagged, studded here and there with stunted evergreen shrubs or parasitic plants, they soon found a secure covert upon the opposite side, where the hill was less abrupt, and more easy of ascent. From here they had a fair view of the cliff, as well as the open ground beyond the mouth of the valley, in the direction from whence they had come. "I move that you two lie down for a nap, while I stand guard," quoth Duplin, as the trio sunk back upon the soft, mossy earth behind the vine clad rock. "I want a smoke, first," said Tyrrel, producing his pipe. "And so do I, but can't find my pipe," muttered Wythe, vexedly. "I must have lost it on the way." "Never mind; that is easily replaced--I mean so far as comfort is concerned. A bit of bark--a joint of the 'carpenter's weed,' and you have it." The three comrades conversed, in low, eager tones, of the fortune that lay waiting their coming, and magnificent were the air-castles they each reared, when they should return home, rich men. But one delicious one Burr Wythe hugged to his own heart. Only one ear must hear that dream--the ear of sweet Lottie Mitchell. "Hist!" muttered Duplin, after an hour or more had crept by.