"You might get through with your wagon," said one gold hunter, who had been across the mountains twice. "But it is more trouble than it is worth. Better make packs of yer outfit and cross on foot." "Well, we won't lose much by leaving the wagon," said Bob. "It's about used up anyway." What he said was true. The rough traveling had caused the turnout to break down more than once and they had spent many hours in making it fit to use. A few more heavy jolts would cause it to fall to pieces. CHAPTER XVII AMONG THE INDIANS The day after they abandoned the wagon, and divided the outfit into packs, the young pioneers found themselves on something of a plateau among the Rockies. Each carried a stiff load on his shoulders, and what was left of the outfit was strapped to the back of the mule,--enough to make Darling move along slower than ever. They had come over a broken trail, where they had often to leap from one rock to the next. More than once one or another of them had fallen, and Si had received a wrench of his left ankle that hurt him considerably. "This ain't walking over no farm," grumbled Si, as he limped on. "I hope the trail don't get any worse." "I am afraid it will be worse before we get through the pass," said Mark. "These are not called the Rocky Mountains for nothing." "Boys, I saw some Indians just now!" cried Maybe Dixon, who was in advance. "About a dozen of them, on ponies." "Where?" cried the lads, in concert. "Over yonder." Maybe Dixon pointed with his hand. "They are gone now--behind the spur of rocks." The boys were curious to see the red men--having met so few on the trail, but when they reached the spur of rocks the Indians were nowhere in sight. That noon they had to care for Darling's foot again and this took some time. In the meanwhile the Sockets went on, leaving them alone. They were just about to proceed when three Indians rode up. They were a dirty set, with faces sadly in need of washing, and long, talon-like finger nails. [Illustration: THEY WERE JUST ABOUT TO PROCEED WHEN THREE INDIANS RODE UP.] "Ugh! Give Indian tobacco," said one. "Give Indian sugar," said a second. "Blue Water cold--give um blanket," came from the third. "I haven't any tobacco to spare," said Maybe Dixon, who carried only a small pouchful. "The sugar is about gone," added Si. "We need our blankets," put in Mark. "Where are your own?" The Indians looked disappointed and their painted faces grew dark. "No give poor Indians nothing?" asked the fellow who had first spoken. "We haven't anything to spare," said Bob. He and the others had already learned that the more the red men got from the white travelers the more they wanted. The Indians continued to beg for something and at last were given some beans and a small bit of venison. Then they turned their ponies and galloped away over the rocks. "We are well rid of them," said Mark, with a sigh of relief.