voices.

"For the same reason, we cannot take the pass of Polvidera. Besides, at
this season, there is but little prospect of game on either of these
routes. We are not prepared for an expedition with our present supply.
We must pass through a game-country before we can enter on the desert."

"That is true, captain; but there is as little game to be met if we go
by the old mine. What other road, then, can we take?"

"There is still another route better than all, I think. We will strike
southward, and then west across the Llanos to the old mission. From
thence we can go north into the Apache country."

"Yes, yes; that is the best way, captain."

"We will have a longer journey, but with advantages. We will find the
wild cattle or the buffaloes upon the Llanos. Moreover, we will make
sure of our time, as we can `cache' in the Pinon Hills that overlook the
Apache war-trail, and see our enemies pass out. When they have gone
south, we can cross the Gila, and keep up the Azul or Prieto. Having
accomplished the object of our expedition, we may then return homeward
by the nearest route."

"Bravo!" "Viva!" "That's jest right, captain!"

"That's clarly our best plan!" were a few among the many forms by which
the hunters testified their approval of the programme. There was no
dissenting voice. The word "Prieto" struck like music upon their ears.
That was a magic word: the name of the far-famed river on whose waters
the trapper legends had long placed the El Dorado, "the mountain of
gold." Many a story of this celebrated region had been told at the
hunters' camp-fire, all agreeing in one point: that there the gold lay
in "lumps" upon the surface of the ground, and filled the rivers with
its shining grains. Often had the trappers talked of an expedition to
this unknown land; and small parties were said to have actually entered
it, but none of these adventurers had ever been known to return.

The hunters saw now, for the first time, the prospect of penetrating
this region with safety, and their minds were filled with fancies wild
and romantic. Not a few of them had joined Seguin's band in hopes that
some day this very expedition might be undertaken, and the "golden
mountain" reached. What, then, were their feelings when Seguin declared
his purpose of travelling by the Prieto! At the mention of it a buzz of
peculiar meaning ran through the crowd, and the men turned to each other
with looks of satisfaction.