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Updated: June 16, 2025
If you will start a little east of north and locate the Indian village of Toliatchi, twenty miles away, you will be on the Arroyo Chusco. Although the bed of this stream may be dry it can be traced northward sixty-five miles, where it unites with the Amarilla, eighty-five miles from Clarkeville.
"Where?" echoed Alan. "Why, at the sea level-that's where. Not out here. Do you know how high we are above sea level right here?" Alan began to see the point and a smile came over his face. He had no chance to answer: "We're a little short of seven thousand feet up in the air right here in Clarkeville," continued Ned in about the same tone of exultation he might have used had he found a gold mine.
There had been a quick shopping expedition in the stores of Clarkeville and Bob Russell, in a new hat and boots and various other articles of clothing, most of them too large for him, sat proudly on the driver's seat of the second wagon.
All day he wondered if it might not be possible to reach Clarkeville again before the Cibola sailed. The next morning, spurred on by the hope that he might do this, he started at daybreak. By the middle of the morning he was on the old wagon trail and making better time.
But we want the confidence of Clarkeville that we are all right, even if we are a little young." "Clarkeville is yours," laughed the Mayor, getting up from the table, "and now what do ye want first?" In another hour the two boys, guided by Mayor Bradley, had examined the entire settlement.
Napier talked of his plans in a general way. "'I represent the Hydrographic Department, he said to the reporter, 'and the journey I am about to make may extend from Clarkeville as far as the Pacific. I hope it will accomplish what the department has planned, but you know that we who are in this profession are always prepared for failure.
Elmer and I will take a few pinches of tea, the soup tablets, one revolver and a rifle and " "And what?" exclaimed Alan, suspicious of Ned's suggestion. "And," continued Ned, "We'll just dash on ahead and bring you some help." "No, siree," shouted Alan. "Do you think get back to Clarkeville, one hundred and fifteen miles or more, on six soup tablets? And for me?
Unless the silent Mexican told it no soul in all Clarkeville other than Mayor Bradley and the air ship boys knew why Jellup was absent from his haunts and his post of duty that day. Nor did many of them ever know, when Jellup reappeared on the streets after weeks of suffering, how he had been injured. They only knew that his right arm was gone and that he was no longer marshal.
"Well, whoever it is, we'll have the soup," said Ned. This consumed, Ned and his friend started forward. "If it's good luck we'll meet it sooner this way," said Ned, "if it's bad we'll know the worst quicker." But it was good luck. The rider soon galloped up and swung his wide hat in the air. It was Curt Bradley, the mayor of Clarkeville.
He was just twenty-four hours behind in the race, but he meant, if he could, to execute his orders, and was already smiling delightedly in anticipation of what he knew would be a contest of wits. Clarkeville was even smaller than the boys had imagined it. The little depot was far more pretentious than any other building in sight. Beyond this was a wide and exceedingly dusty street.
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