ways is," said Chris cheerily. "How different it makes things look!
I always feel better when the sun shines. There, good-bye, old place,
if we never see you again."

"But I say, Chris, we might come back some day, you know."

"Not likely."

"Why? We might find the gold, and then come back here to live. It
wouldn't matter then about the peaches and grapes and things failing."

"No; father wouldn't want the money then," said Chris thoughtfully. "I
should like to come back, after all, but--"

_Bing_!--Bing!--Bang!

"That's done it, sir," cried Griggs, his voice ringing out cheerily in
the morning air. "I'll tuck the hammer and nails in my pouch. They may
come in useful. No, I can't; it's full. I'll tuck the hammer handle
through my belt. Either of you youngsters got room for a few nails in
your pocket?"

"I have, Griggs," cried Chris quickly, and, with something to do, the
pain of the farewell to the beautiful scene came to an end.

"Ready?" cried the doctor sharply.

"Aye, aye!" came back, and the horses shuffled and spread their legs.

"Mount!" cried the doctor, and every one sprang to his saddle amidst the
stamping of the mustangs' feet. "Lead on, Griggs," cried the doctor.

The American pressed his cob's sides and trotted to where the leading
mule stood browsing, ready to raise its head, shaking the bell
violently, and make a vicious snap at the horse's neck with its bared
teeth.

But Griggs was ready for it, and threw out one of his long legs, the toe
of his boot catching the mule in the cheek and spoiling the aim.

"Look here, my fine fellow," he cried, "don't you try that game again,
or I'll fix a spike to the end of a stout hickory ready for lancing
those gums of yours. I'm afraid you've got toothache, or you wouldn't
be so ready to bite. Now then, ring up. Get on."

"Forward!" snouted the doctor; and as the mule led the way under the
American's direction the whole heavily-laden team filed after, settling
down steadily enough, the horsemen bringing up the rear, looking like a
little detachment of irregular cavalry as they wound along the tracks
through the blighted plantation, straight away for the uncultivated
wilds.

"Good-bye to five years' labour," said the doctor, turning in his saddle
for a last look.

"Five years' disappointment," said Wilton sadly.

"Five years of buried hopes," said Bourne slowly; but the boys were
silent, neither daring to trust his voice.

"And now,"