"Hah!" exclaimed the doctor, uttering a long-drawn sigh. "Yes, I find I shall be better off than Columbus, and I begin to feel that with such help I shall have a much easier task. There: we'll go. Our friend Griggs has put quite a different complexion on the expedition, and I begin to think now that all we have to do is to keep on till we find the ruined city."

"If it exists," said Bourne.

"If it exists? Oh, it must exist, if you can say that of a dead city,"

cried Wilton.

"The poor fellow we buried may have invented it all, being so bent upon his search, and gone crazy at last and made up that chart out of his own head."

"No," said the doctor thoughtfully. "I had the advantage of you others in being with him during his last moments, and hearing him talk calmly and sensibly to the end. He had suffered horribly from fever, and doubtless had been delirious again and again, but that chart was the work of no madman; half-an-hour's conversation with him satisfied me that he knew perfectly well what he was talking about, and, after all said and done, there is nothing preposterous in what he told me. We have had proofs enough of there being rich gold-loving nations in North, South, and Central America who built great temples--the Mexicans, the Peruvians, and the nations who have left the huge ruins in Yucatan. I do not see why there should not be another gold city and temple here."

"Here!" said Bourne dryly. "Where?"

"In the desert place among the mountains that we are going to find, my dear sir," said the doctor firmly.

"_Bagh! Bagh! Bagh! Bagh_!" roared Griggs enthusiastically, and the boys joined in the "tiger," as he called it.

"Don't say any more, doctor," he cried. "That's enough. I began to think you were playing fast and loose, and I said to myself, Doctor's got too much shilly-shally, w.i.l.l.y-nilly in him to make a good leader of this expedition, but I don't now. I can see farther than I did, and that you've been weighing it all over and looking before you leaped.

And that's the right way to succeed. Gentlemen, and you two youngsters, we've got a grand captain--one that can lead us and guide us, and cure us, and set us up when we're down. What more can we want? We're sure to succeed. I won't sell my share now for anything."

There was a fresh cheer at this, and the party broke up to take the necessary rest.

"Ned," said Chris, after they had been in bed a short time, "we're off."

"Yes," said Ned. "_Bagh! Bagh! Bagh_! as Griggs has it."

"Hush, or you'll wake my dad."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

SHUTTING UP SHOP.

"I didn't believe we ever should start," said Chris, one morning at daybreak.

"But you were wrong," said Ned, "and here's good-bye to the old place."

It was a month later, during which time the journey had been made to the nearest town, the stores and other necessaries purchased, and after preparations which had lasted till midnight, every one had declared that there was nothing else to be done, and all had lain down to sleep, Griggs included, he having decided to stay at the ranch for the last night, after bringing over his baggage and animals, and he had by a gruesome kind of choice elected to sleep in the long shed.

"Where the poor old adventurer was put," he said, "and that will make me dream about him and perhaps have some happy thoughts about the best way to go."

There were not many farewells to bid, for the settlers at the nearest plantations were scattered widely about the district, and all for the most part too much worried about their own disappointments to pay much heed to a few neighbours who were giving up and going to try their fortune elsewhere, and for the most part were ready to sneer at the restless folk who were going prospecting where, according to their own ideas, they were not likely to do half so well.

Hence it was that as soon as it was light, and while Griggs with a hammer and spikes was nailing up the last windows and the door, for which pieces of board cut to the exact size lay ready, there was not a stranger there to see them off.

It was a busy time. They had all breakfasted by the light of the out-door fire which had boiled their coffee, cooked their damper, and frizzled their bacon, and now were all hard at work loading the dozen mules that had been purchased for the purpose of carrying their baggage, and in whose management every one had taken lessons from an old mule-driver who had made many journeys into the Far West.

For there was much to learn. "Obstinate as a mule" is a good old proverb, and the party had plenty of reason for learning its truth.

They had heard too of the vicious nature of these same animals. They were used as beasts of burden, and they seemed to have made up their minds to be a burden to every one there. The old Yankee, who had made many a journey with mule teams, had taught them, and taught them well, all he could about the mysteries of la.s.so and lariat, and the diamond-hitch; but even after a fortnight's practice it was not easy to bind the loads well-balanced upon each mule's back without getting kicked, and when this was done, the mules having been disappointed at not being able to kick anybody, mostly made desperate attempts to kick at nothing, the result of which was the loosening of the ropes so that the loads rattled and in one case went flying.

This load had been tied on by the boys, who stood looking at one another and then at the mule, which, as soon as it was free, gave its ears a few twinkles, shook its shabby tail, and then began to graze quite contentedly on some alfalfa gra.s.s, or lucerne.

"Come, boys, don't stand looking on," cried the doctor. "Try again, or we shall be waiting for you. You must put your feet against the brute's side and haul tight, as you were taught."

"We did, sir," cried Ned, who was hot and angry.

"Not tight enough, my lad. You'll soon do it better."

"Not with this one, father. It's such a beast."

"They all are, my boy," said the doctor, laughing at his son's perplexed countenance.

"I mean such a wretch, father. It's so artful. When you've got the load on all right and balanced, and there's nothing to do but tighten the lariat, the nasty, spiteful, cunning brute waits till you begin to haul tight, and then fills itself full of wind and swells itself out.

Then you pull till all is as tight as tight, and fasten off the knots."

"Well, that's right," said the doctor, who looked, like the rest, wonderfully business-like and ready for the journey, in leather Norfolk jacket, knickerbockers, and cowboy's hat.

"Yes, so we thought, sir," said Ned, "till I heard the brute sigh."

"Oh, poor thing, it was because it had such a heavy load."

"No, it wasn't, father; it was because it was breathing out all the wind again, and we didn't know what it meant till we found that the load was all loose, and when we went up to tighten it the wretch wheeled round and tried to kick us, and because it couldn't it kicked itself out of its load."

"Never mind, don't waste time, Chris. I want to start. We'll halt somewhere at mid-day for a rest, and set things right. After a few days' practice we shall get on better, and all these things will come easy."

"I hope they will," said Chris, as the doctor went off to where the carefully-folded tent and its poles and stretchers were being secured to another of the dozen mules which formed their team. "But look here, Ned, old chap, I'm not going to get in a pa.s.sion now; I'm going to save it up, and before long I'm going to show this gentleman which of us two is going to be master."

"Oh, nonsense! My father said that we were to break the mules in with gentle treatment. They are obstinate, he said, because they've become so used to being beaten."

"Old Dence told me that kindness is thrown away upon a mule. He said you must let go at 'em with your tongue and a good thick stick; but if when you're using it you see one lay its ears down flat and draw its lips away from its teeth and laugh, it's because you don't hit hard enough. Well, this one did."

"Yes, I saw the brute grin," said Ned.

"Well, just you wait. I'm going to save up this fellow's dose, and he shall have it some day with interest."

"He told me," said Ned, "that you couldn't drive mules without using bad language. He did--lots."

"Yes, I heard him," said Chris.

"I told my father, and he was angry and said it was all nonsense. All you had to do was to shout at the brutes loudly, and as if you were in a rage. Then he laughed, and told me what to do."

"What was that?" said Chris, rather breathlessly, for he was busy arranging the mule's load.

"He said I was to stamp and yell, and begin to decline a Latin noun to the mules."

"Oh, bother the Latin nouns!" said Chris pettishly. "Who's to think of cases when you're driving a mule? Here, come on and help. And I say, I nearly forgot."

"Forgot what? I dare say we've forgotten lots of things."