t are covered always
with snow, even in the summer, an' not a half-dozen or a dozen
mountains, but hundreds uv 'em, ridges an' ranges runnin' fur hundreds
an' thousands uv miles."

"An' beyond that?" asked Silent Tom.

"Nobody knows. But think what a trip it would be fur us five! Why it
raises the sperrit uv romance mighty high in me. Paul hez often told us
how them old Crusaders from France an' England an' Germany an' all them
Old World countries started off, wearin' their iron clothes even on the
hottest days, to rescue the Holy places from the infidel. I guess the
sperrit uv adventure helped a heap in takin' 'em, but thar travels
wouldn't be any greater, an' grander than ourn across all them great
plains an' into them almighty high mountains beyond. You couldn't even
guess what we'd find."

Long Jim drew a deep breath, as his spirit leaped before him into the
vast unknown spaces, and Paul's eyes sparkled. The seed that Jim was
sowing fell upon fertile ground.

"I believe I'd rather travel in the unknown than the known," the boy
said. "We'd come to rivers, big ones and lots of 'em, too, that no white
man had ever seen before, and, when at last we reached the mountains,
we'd explore in there for months and months, a year, two years may be.
And we'd name the highest five peaks for ourselves."

"An' I'd want a river named after me, too, Paul, an' I don't want it to
be any little second rate river, either. I want it to be long an' broad
an' deep an' full uv mighty clear water, an' when after a while, fur
hunters come along in thar canoes, I'd say to 'em, 'Dip down! Dip down
with your paddles an' don't be afeard. This is the Long Jim Hart river,
an' me bein' Jim Hart, the owner, I give you leave.'"

"I heard the sound o' a shot," said Silent Tom.

"And there goes another," said Henry. "It seemed to be up the valley. Is
it possible that Shif'less Sol has let himself be trapped in broad
daylight?"

All crowded into the doorway and looked and listened, intense anxiety,
despite themselves, tearing at their hearts. Shots at such a time were
deeply significant. The Indians at the camp opposite, Braxton Wyatt with
them, had risen and were looking fixedly in the same direction.

A long triumphant shout suddenly came from a point in the forest up the
valley, and then was succeeded by another in which six or seven voices
joined, the Indian chant of victory. The hearts of the four dropped like
plummets in a pool, and they