On the car steps, Ned
turned and pointed to the north. Far away the dusky gray of the
plains deepened into darker and darker shadows that ended in a low
black mass. But here and there from the black wall rose irregular
spires, their tops pink-tipped by the red sun.
"Yes," exclaimed Alan, "the Tunit Chas--our mountains."
And even though the vigilant Elmer called from within, the boys
stood and gazed in silence until the last glow had died away and the
land of their hopes was lost under the stars.
Important as was the work to be done in Buck's corral, there was
another vital thing to be accomplished while this progressed. That
was the creation of a base of supplies near the navigator's field of
work. This was preferably to be at the junction of the Amarilla and
Chusco rivers, and that point lay just eighty-five miles to the
north. Between Clarkeville and that spot there were no roads and,
at this time of the year, perhaps, no water. With the best wagon
and team they might be able to get, this trip over the desert would
require not less than five days.
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