o roasting a turkey, or cutting it up and
frying it in a pan, I'd beat him hollow. How much farther have we to
go?"

"About a mile," said Chris, and he had hardly spoken before from out of
the darkness ahead came the Australian cry--_Coo-ee_!

"There's Ned," said Chris eagerly. "Come to meet us.--_Coo-ee_! Is it
all right?"

"Yes, all right," came back.

"Tain't," said Griggs gruffly. "He's left the fire, and that turkey
will burn."

"Soup," said Chris merrily.

"Well, soup, then," growled Griggs. "Why can't he stick to his work?"

"Anyone with you?" cried Chris.

"No; I came on alone. Where's Griggs?"

"Here I am," replied the American to the voice out of the darkness. "I
say, how came you to leave that turkey?"

"Turkey! What turkey?"

"The one you were cooking for our supper."

"Oh, father's cook to-night; but there's no turkey."

"What, then?" said Griggs.

"Oh, a mess of tinned beef."

"There, I told you so," cried Chris.

"You never said a word about a mess," growled Griggs; "but I might have
known. A nice mess it will be!"

Ned did not hear, for he was questioning and being questioned about the
doings of the day, which had been as uneventful in camp as out of it.

Ten minutes later they were sitting near the fire enjoying the waiting
supper, and in the reflection from the glowing embers Chris could see
Griggs' face beaming with the smiles of satisfaction, as he made liberal
use of a pewter spoon, and took semi-circular bites out of a hot
bread-cake liberally ornamented with grey wood-ashes.

"How's the mess, Griggs?" said Chris merrily.

Griggs had only one word to say, and it fitted itself for usage as a
long-drawn husky drawl.

The word was _Prime_!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A VICTIM.

"And you made it all out clear straight and took your bearings, doctor?"
said Griggs the next morning, as the last pulls were given to the
mule-ropes--the last diamond-hitches made fast.

"Yes, and it will be as easy as steering a boat. I could see the blue
mountains from up yonder distinctly, but I'm afraid they're more than a
hundred miles away."

"Oh, I don't know, sir; distances are deceiving, and it all depends upon
the weather. Why, I've seen a mountain look fifty miles nearer just
before rain. Now then, is there anything else we ought to do?"

"I did everything yesterday that I thought right."

"Water-barrels well full?"

"Yes, and every bottle and tin as well."

"Good,