ther hubs in mud holes an' then if it wusn't thet ther wuz ther sand
to shove through and they hed ter give it up. No, ther vehicle or
ther critter hain't invented that's goin' ter get away off thar back
of beyond whar the gold lies--or whar they say it does," he added
rather doubtfully. "When I was a kid back East my poor mother used
ter tell me that gold lay at ther end of ther rainbow. I began
huntin' it then and I've kep' it up ever since, an' will to ther
end, I reckon."

"You say the vehicle isn't invented that will cross that stretch of
alkali?" asked the tall young man, with a jingle of the metal
ornaments hanging from the chased shank of his spurs.

"Thet's what. No rig, er devil wagon, er critters neither."

The reply was given with the emphasis of conviction.

"How about airships?"

The remark was dropped carelessly almost, by the spur-wearer.

"Airships! By ginger, thet's so!"

The pessimist spoke in a rather crestfallen tone.

"Seems ter me I read in an Eastern paper a while back suthin' about
Jim Bell's bin at a place near New York and engaging a young chap
ter build him some aeroplanes. Thar was a good bit of mystery about
it. Say, boys, I wonder ef that's what Jim Bell's in Blue Creek
fur?"