"What are they doing, young William?" asked the Little Giant.

"Nothing that I can see except to talk as if puzzled."

"I almost wish they would strike our trail and start up the cliff. We could pick off every one of 'em before they reached the top."

"I'd rather they went back."

"That's what they're likely to do, young William. Even if they saw our trail going up the cliff, they won't follow it. They've had a taste of our marksmanship, an' they know it would be certain death. It looks to me ez if they wuz goin' to drift back down the trail."

"You judge right, Tom. There they go. I wish I could read the expression on their faces. They must be wild with rage. They're moving a little faster now, and the sooner they disappear from my sight the better."

He handed the glasses to the Little Giant, who, after taking a look, passed them to Boyd. The hunter had the last glimpse of them as they turned a curve and were hidden by the rocky wall.

"That settles 'em, for the time, anyway," he said, "and now I think we'd better see what kind of a country we've come into. You stay here with the animals, Will, they like you and it's easy for you to keep 'em quiet, while Giant and me scout about and see the lay of the land."

Will promptly accepted his part of the task. The horses and mules, alarmed perhaps by such a wild and lonely situation, and tremulous, too, from memories of that frightful climb up the cliff, crowded close about him, while he stroked their noses and manes, and felt himself their protector.

The hunter and the Little Giant vanished without noise, and Will waited a full hour before either returned. But he was not lonesome. The horses and mules rubbed their noses against him, and in the dark and the wilderness they made evident their feeling that he was the one who would guard them.

The noise of a light footstep sounded and the hunter, who had gone south, stood before him.

"It's good news I bring," said Boyd. "We're cut off to the south by a cliff that no one can climb, and it seems to run away toward the west for countless miles. The Sioux can't reach us from that direction. Ah, here is Tom! What has he to say?"

"What I hev to say is always important," replied the Little Giant, "but this time its importance is speshul. A couple o' miles to the north a great transverse pass runs out o' the main one, an' cuts off toward the west. It's deep an' steep an' I reckon it bars the way thar."

"That being the case, we're on a peninsula," said Boyd, "and this peninsula rises in the west toward very high mountains. I can see a white dome off in that direction."

"All these facts now bein' diskivered," said the Little Giant, "I think we've shook off them Sioux fur good, though thar ain't no tellin' when we'll run afoul another bunch. But we'll take the good things the moment hez give us, an' look fur what we need, wood, water an' grass."

"Wood we have all about us," said Will. "Water is bound to be plentiful in these forested mountains, and we may strike grass by daylight."

They began an advance, making it very cautious, owing to the extremely rough nature of the country, and all their caution was needed, as they had to cross several ravines, and the ground was so broken that a misstep at any time might have proved serious. In this manner they made several miles and the general trend of the ground was a rapid ascent. Toward dawn they came to a brook flowing very fast, and they found its waters almost as cold as ice. Will judged it to be a glacial stream issuing from the great white dome, now plainly visible, though far ahead.

A short distance beyond the stream they found an open space with grass for the animals, and very glad, too, they were to reach it, as they were shaken by their immense exertions and the hard trail in the dark.

"This valley jest had to be here," said the Little Giant, "'cause we couldn't hev stood goin' on any more. The hosses an' mules theirselves are too tired to eat, but they will begin croppin' afore long."

"And it's so cold up here I think we'd better light a fire and have warm food," said Boyd. "We can smother the smoke, and anyway it will pay us to run the risk."

It was a task soon done, and long before breakfast was finished the horses and mules were peacefully grazing. Will then took his rifle and examined the country himself in some detail, going as far as the great precipice on the south. It was not a gulch or ravine, but the ground dropped down suddenly three or four hundred feet. Beyond that the forest extended as before.

The view to the west was magnificent and majestic beyond description. Up, up rose the slope, cliff on cliff and the imperial white dome beyond! That way, too, apparently, they had to go, as they were cut off by the precipices on all other sides, and at the moment Will felt no particular sorrow because of it. The gold had taken a second place in his mind, and with these two wise and brave comrades of his he would penetrate the great mysteries of the west. The southward turn into the plains, following the diagram of the map, could wait.

When he returned to the camp he found the animals still grazing and his comrades sitting by the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of coals.

"I don't see anything for us to do except to go straight on toward the great snow mountain," he said.

"That's about the same conclusion that Tom and I have come to," said Boyd. "We're likely to get up pretty high, where it's winter all the year 'round, but it's better than running into the hands of the Sioux, or any of the mountain tribes. I vote, though, that this army of three spend the rest of the day here, and since storms gather at any time on these uplands, we'd better build another wickiup."

"An' make brush shelters for the animals, too," said the Little Giant.

The wickiup was built and they arranged crude, but nevertheless excellent, protection for the horses, a precaution that was soon justified, as it began to rain the following night, and they had alternating rain, snow and sleet for two days and two nights. The animals were able to dig enough grass from under the snow for sustenance, but most of the time they spent in the shelter devised for them. When the fair weather returned and the snow melted, they left the second wickiup, resuming the ascent of the mighty slopes. They were all restored by their rest, and despite the elevation and the wildness they were able to find plenty of forage for the animals.

"We've got to be mighty partic'ler with them hosses an' mules," said the Little Giant, "'cause even ef we should reach the mine without 'em we're bound to hev 'em to pack out the gold fur us. I expect we'll hev to ketch an' train 'bout twenty wild hosses, too, ez we'll need 'em fur all the gold that I'm countin' on findin'. Didn't you say thar was that much, young William?"

"I didn't give the exact amount," replied the lad, "nor do I suppose anyone can tell from surface indications how much gold there is in a mine, but from the word my father brought we'll need the twenty wild horses and more."

"O' course we will. I knowed it afore you said it. I've hunted gold fifteen to twenty years without findin' a speck, an' so it stands to reason that when I do find it I'll find a mountain of it."

Although the slope rose steadily, the ground, for the present, was not much cut up, and they were able to ride in comfort. Much of the country was beautiful and parklike. While far below there were endless brown plains, here were great forests, without much undergrowth, and cold, clear streams, running down from the vast snowy dome that always loomed ahead, and that never seemed to come any nearer.

"How high would you say that peak wuz, young William?" asked the Little Giant. "You're an eddicated lad, an' I reckon you know 'bout these things."

"You give me too much credit," laughed Will in reply. "One has to have instruments with which to calculate the height of mountains, and I couldn't do it even if I had the instruments, but I should say from what I've heard about the country and the tales of explorers that the peak we're looking at is about 14,000 feet high."

"I've seen it once before, though from the south," said Boyd, "and I've also met an exploring geographer kind of fellow who had seen it and who told me it rose close on to three miles above the sea. Different Indian tribes have different names for it, but I don't remember any of 'em."

"I think I'll call it the White Dome," said Will, examining it for the hundredth time through his glasses. "From here it looks like a round mountain, though it may have another shape, of course, on the other three sides. It's a fine mountain and as it's the first time I ever saw it I'm going to call it my peak. The forest is heavy and green clear up to the snow line, and beyond that I think I see a vast glacier."

Two days later they made another stop in a sheltered valley through which ran a mountain torrent. The hunter and the Little Giant shot two mule deer and a mountain sheep, and they considered the addition to their larder very welcome, as they had been making large inroads on their stores. The weather, too, had grown so cold that they kept a fire burning both day and night. Far over their heads they heard a bitter wind of the mountains blowing, and when Will climbed out of the valley and turned his glasses toward the White Dome he could not see the peak, it was wrapped around so thoroughly by mists and vapors and falling snow.

They built the fire large and high on the second night, and as they sat around it they held a serious consultation. They feared incessant storms and blizzards if they rose to still higher levels, and attempted to pass around on the lofty slopes of the peak. It would, perhaps, be wiser to follow the torrent, and enter the plains below, braving the dangers of the Sioux.

"What good will the gold be to us if we're all froze to death under fifty feet o' snow?" asked the Little Giant.

"None at all," replied the hunter, "and it wouldn't be any good to us, either, if we was to slip down a precipice a thousand feet and fall on the rocks below."

Will shivered.

"I believe I'd rather be frozen to death in Tom's way," he said.

"Then I vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the gorge and hunt the plains. What say you, Will?"

"It seems the wise thing to do."

"And you, Giant?"

"Me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' I reckon ef we wuz to put it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'. Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey from the mountings."

They had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain, and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude overcoats with the hair inside. Now when they put them on they found them serviceable but heavy. At any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter.

Fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time, though the pace was very slow. At points where the gorge narrowed, they took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the stream.

When night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless whether or not it was seen by enemies. Then they roasted themselves before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece.

Only then did Will feel warmed thoroughly. The older men found a fairly level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out their fire. They told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and, wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the cliff. But the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human footprint. When the Little Giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he was of the same opinion.

"It's too faint, Jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a white man or a red man."

"We don't care to meet either. If it's a white man it may be an outlaw, horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to join us on this gold hunt. If it's Indians, they're enemies, no matter to what tribe they belong."

"An' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends."



CHAPTER VI

THE OUTLAW

When Will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. The air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a little more. Then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp now numbered four instead of three.

He stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. He, too, carried a fine repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. He wore a felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. A jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers, leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. Will saw the butt of a pistol and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket.

A strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more closely, his face also looked strange. It was that of a civilized human being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and yet it was not. The eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed green in the early dawn. Will judged that he was one who had become habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings oppressed him.

"Mr. Martin Felton, Will," said the hunter. "Mr. Felton, this is Mr. William Clarke, who is traveling with us."

Will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at Felton. Perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and strengthening it greatly. But when he glanced at the hunter and the Little Giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes.

"Traveling, young sir!" said Felton in a lightly ironic tone. "You seem to prefer paths of peril. I would not say that this is exactly a safe region for tourists."

Now Will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. He liked neither his tone nor his manner.

"It's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "But, as I take it, there is no more for me than there is for you."

"The lad has put it very well, Mr. Felton," said the hunter. "However much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no greater than yours are."

Felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at Will:

"You're right to ask the question, but I can say in answer that your dangers are greater than mine. I have no trouble with the Sioux. I don't think any Indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp."

"It was our information that they had declared war upon all white people who entered this country. How does it happen that you're immune?"

Felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile.

"I've been among the Sioux when they were not at war with us," he replied. "I've done them some good deeds. I've set a broken bone or two for them—I've a little surgical skill—and Mahpeyalute, whom we call Red Cloud, has assured me that no harm will ever be done to me. For that reason I'm wandering among these mountains and on the plains. I noticed on one of your horses picks, shovels and other mining implements, and I thought you might combine gold hunting with sight seeing. I'm something of a gold hunter myself and it occurred to me that we could combine forces. I've heard vaguely about a huge gold lead much farther west, and we four might make a strong party, able to reach it despite the Indian troubles."

The lad's heart beat the note of alarm and of hostility. Was it possible that this man knew anything of his father's great mine? He had to exchange only a few sentences with him to understand that he was not wanted as a fourth partner in the venture.

"Mr. Bent looks for gold casually," he replied, "but our main object is hunting and exploration. I doubt whether we'd want to take on anything else, though we thank you for your offer, Mr. Felton."

Felton did not seem at all disconcerted. He made upon Will the impression of persistency and of great strength, although the strength might be for evil.

"And so you don't think four are better than three," he said.

"That was not what I implied," replied Will. "What I meant to say was that our party was made up. Isn't that the way you feel about it, Mr. Boyd?"

"My feelings to a T," replied the hunter.

"And yours, Mr. Bent?"

"You express my state o' mind to perfection, young William. Mr. Felton is the finest gentleman we hev met in the mountings since we met that band o' Sioux, but when a band is made up it's made up."

"Very well, gentlemen," said Felton, no anger showing in his tone. "I will not force myself upon anybody, but I'm no egotist, even if I do say you're the losers. My knowledge of the region and my friendship with the Sioux would be of great advantage to you, would be of so much advantage, in fact, that it would make me worth more than a fourth share in all the gold we might find. But, as I said, I will not stay where I'm not wanted. Good day!"

He strode away among the bushes, and for some distance they saw him descending the side of the mountain, to disappear at last in a forest of ash. Then the hunter and the Little Giant looked at each other significantly.

"We saw a footprint of his last night, Will," said Boyd, "but he came himself this morning, just at dawn. We can't quite make him out. Why does he talk of a great mine for which we're looking? Do you think your father ever mentioned it to anyone else?"

"Not that I ever heard. It must be only a guess, based on the sight of the Little Giant's tools. Did you ever see or hear of this man before?"

"No, but I know he's no friend of ours. There are renegades and desperadoes in these mountains, who make friends with the Indians, and I judge he's one of that kind. I'm mighty sorry we've run across him. He may have a band of his own somewhere, or he may go straight to the Sioux with news of us."

"He suspects us of a great gold hunt, so great that we are ready to risk anything for it. He showed it."

"So he did, and in my opinion the band, that he almost certainly has, will undertake to follow us."

"I didn't like him the first minute I saw him," said the Little Giant. "The reason why I cannot tell, but I do not like thee, Mr. Felton. Haven't I heard a rhyme like that somewhere, young William?"

"Almost like it, Giant, and just like you, the first moment I laid eyes on him, I disliked him. I think he's a danger, a big danger, and so do both of you. I can tell it by the way you act. Now, what do you think we ought to do?"

"We're not to go down into the plains, that's sure," replied Boyd, "because then we'd run into Felton and his gang and maybe a band of Sioux also. There's only one thing open to us."

"Go back up the mountain?"

"That and nothing else. Felton will expect us to come on down, but we'll fool him by going the other way. There's always hiding in rough country and under the cover of great forests. In my opinion, we've both Indians and white men now to fight. We must meet their cunning united, and the nearer we get to Will's White Dome the safer we'll be."

"An' it's not so bad, after all!" exclaimed the Little Giant. "We'll go back and climb and climb till neither reds nor whites kin foller us."

"We'll have to go well above the snow line, and camp there awhile," said Boyd. "And if we were snowed in for a few weeks it wouldn't hurt, provided we find a well protected hollow. Then we'd be sure to shake off all pursuit."

"Come on, then," said Will, with enthusiasm. "It's the White Dome that offers us safety."

"The White Dome it is!" said the Little Giant, with energy.

They put back the packs and saddles and turned once more into the depths of the mountains, riding whenever it was possible, but when the way grew steep, leading the animals at the ends of the lariats. Will was rather glad, for many reasons, that they had abandoned the journey into the plains, as the gold mine, for the present at least, seemed scarcely a reality, and the vast peaks and ridges were far more interesting than the brown swells below, besides being safer. Moreover, the great White Dome loomed before him continually, and he had a certain pride in the thought that they would pass over its towering shoulder.

"I've been thinkin' mighty hard," said the Little Giant.

"Does it make your head ache much?" asked the hunter.

"Not in this case. It hurts sometimes, when I try to think forward, but not when I try to think back an' remember things. Then I've got somethin' to go on. I'm tryin' to rec'lect whether I ever met a feller who wuz ez unpleasant to my feelin's ez that thar Felton."

"I know I never did," said Will, with emphasis.

"Me neither," said the hunter. "I don't like men who wear velvet jackets with big brass buttons on 'em. Now I think the way is going to be pretty steep for a long distance, and I guess we'll have to walk. Lucky these horses and mules of ours are having so much experience in climbing mountains. They go up 'em like goats now."

Despite the skill of men and beasts as climbers they could not ascend at any great rate, although Will noticed that both his comrades were eager to get on. He fancied that the image of Felton was in their minds, just as it was in his, and the farther they advanced the more sinister became the memory of the velvet-coated intruder.

They passed out upon a great projecting, bald rock, where they paused for many long breaths, and Will, through his glasses, was able to see the brown plains far below, sweeping away in swell on swell until they died under a dim horizon. But the distance was so great that he could make out nothing on their surface.

Night found them on a ridge, where there was enough grass for the horses, and trees still grew, though much dwarfed and stunted. They kept close in the lee of the trees and did not build any fire, although it was very cold, so cold that the bearskin coats again formed a welcome addition to the blankets. Boyd said it would be best for them to keep watch, although little danger was anticipated. Still, they could not be too cautious, and Will, who insisted on mounting guard in his turn, was permitted to do so. The Little Giant kept the first watch and Will the second, beginning about midnight. Giant Tom, who awakened him for it, went almost instantly to sleep himself, and the lad was left alone.

He lay upon a rather wide shelf, with his two comrades only a few feet away, while the horses and mules were back of them, having withdrawn as much as they could into the stubbly pines and cedars in order to protect themselves from the cold wind. Will heard one of them stir now and then, or draw a deep breath like a sigh, but it merely formed an under note in the steady whistling of the wind, which at that height seemed to have an edge of ice, making him shiver in all his wrappings. Nevertheless, he watched as well as one might under such circumstances, feeling himself but a mote on the side of a great mountain in all the immensity of the wilderness.

Surely the hunter was right when he said there was little danger. He did not know from what point in so much blackness and loneliness could danger be apprehended, but he believed, nevertheless, that danger was near. The whistling of the bitter wind seemed to him sinister and threatening, and yet a wind was only a wind. It must be circumstances going before that had given it that threat. He knew the mind could be so prepared by events that it became a sensitive plate, receiving upon its surface impressions that were, in reality, warnings.

Stronger and shriller grew the wind, and stronger and shriller was its warning. He had been lying upon his side with his rifle thrust forward, and now he sat up. Some unknown sense within him had taken cognizance of a threatening note. Listening intently he heard only the wind, but the wind itself seemed always to bear a menace on its front.

He rose to his knees, and used all his powers of eye and ear. The animals did not stir, and the hunter and the Little Giant slept in deep peace. Yet Will's own pulses were beating hard. He began to denounce himself as one who took alarm because of the darkness and desolation, but it did not make his pulses grow quiet.

Still keeping his rifle ready for instant use, he crawled noiselessly toward the edge of the ledge, which was not more than twenty feet away. Half the distance, and he stopped suddenly, because his ears had distinctly brought to him a light sound, as if a pebble had fallen. Will was not a son of the wilderness by birth, but he was fast becoming one of its adopted children, making its ways second nature, and, when the light note of the falling pebble was registered upon his ear, he flattened himself upon the ground, thrusting forward a little the muzzle of his rifle. It is doubtful if the keen eyes of a trailing Indian could have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time as a second pebble might fall.

The second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind registered an impression. Something new and strange appeared upon its surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. At last it detached itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. The eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp, trying to separate it into details, and Will, unseen himself, was able to recognize the eyes and forehead of Felton. He could also trace the glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the morning.

He saw one hand steal up over the ledge. The other, holding a revolver, followed in an instant, and then the lad, knowing in his heart that treacherous and black murder was intended, threw up his own rifle and pulled the trigger. He fired practically at random, doubting that the bullet would hit, but there was the sound of an oath, of scraping feet and a thud, while the gorges and ravines of the mountain sent back the crack of the rifle in many echoes.

The hunter and the Little Giant were awake in a flash, but they did not spring to their feet. They were far too alert and experienced to expose themselves in such a manner, but they crawled forward, fully armed, and lay beside Will.

"What was it?" whispered Boyd.

"It was the man of the morning, Felton. He was about to pull himself up on the cliff. He had a pistol in one hand and he meant to murder us."

"I didn't see him, but I haven't the slightest doubt you are right. And of course he had men as black-hearted as himself with him. He wouldn't have dared such a thing alone. Don't you see it that way, Giant?"

"Thar's no other way to see it, Jim. Felton is the leader of a band, a heap wuss than the Sioux, but young William, here, has been smart 'nough to block his game."

"That is, it's blocked for the time. He's down there with his band, waiting for another chance at us. Now, Will, you slip back and see that the horses and mules are secure, that they can't break their lariats, when they get scared at the shooting that's going to happen mighty soon. Keep down on your hands and knees. Don't give 'em a chance to send a bullet at you in the dark."

The lad obeyed orders and found the animals now fairly quiet. They had stamped and reared somewhat at the sound of his shot, but their alarm had soon subsided. He went among them, stroking their noses and manes, showing all the power over animals that the hunter and the Little Giant had soon detected in him, and they signified their gladness at his presence. While he stroked them he whispered to them gently, speaking words of courage in their ears, but at the same time, he did not neglect to see that the lariats were fastened securely.

Then, confident that the animals would not fall into a panic no matter what happened, he went back and found that Boyd and Bent were creeping toward the edge of the cliff. Lying almost flat, he joined them, and the hunter explained their plan of battle.

"I take it that they're all on foot," he said, "and even so they can come only by the path we followed. It's too steep everywhere else for them to make a rush upon men armed as we are."

"An' we, hid here on the ledge, may get a chance to pick 'em off," said the Little Giant. "Look, the night's beginnin' to favor us. More stars are comin' out, an' it's lighter all along the mountain. Lend me them glasses o' yourn, young William."

Will passed them to him, and the man, who was now at the edge of the ledge, made a very minute examination of the slopes. Then he handed the glasses back to the lad, and pushed his rifle a little farther forward. Will, in the increasing light, caught a glimpse of his face, and he was startled by its look of deadly hate.

"You've seen one of them?" he said.

"Yes," replied the Little Giant. "He's a-layin' among the rocks on the other side o' that deep ravine, too fur away fur any ordinary bullet, but ef thar's one thing I'm proud of it's my rifle shootin'. I hate to do it, but they've come here to murder us an' we've got to teach 'em it's dang'rous business."

Will, putting the glasses to his own eyes, was able to pick out the man whom the Little Giant had seen. It was not Felton, but a fellow in deerskins who crouched in fancied security in a sort of shallow alcove of the cliff. Will regarded him as one already dead, and his opinion was only a moment or two before fact, as the Little Giant pulled the trigger of his great repeating rifle, the mountain burst into many echoes, and the brigand, rolling from his alcove, fell like a stone into the depths of the chasm. Will, listening in awe, heard his body strike far below. Then came a terrible silence, in which his heart beat heavily.

"It was a great shot, Giant," whispered Boyd, at length, "but you make no other kind. It wasn't Felton, was it?"

"No."

"I didn't think it would be. After Will gave the alarm I knew he'd keep well out of sight. His kind when they're leaders always do. You've given 'em a hint, Giant, that they can't pass this way, the kind of hint that means most with brigands."

"But two hints will be better than one, Jim," said Tom. "I'm thinkin' they're still down thar 'mong the rocks, hopin' to pick us off when we ain't watchin'. But we'll be watchin' all the time. In an hour mebbe we'll get a chance to tell 'em a second time they can't pass, an' then I think we'd better light out afore day."

"So do I. Will, take your glasses and keep searching among the rocks."

The lad, who saw that he could now serve best as the eyes of the little army of three, picked out every crag and hollow with the glasses, but he did not find any human beings. A half hour later several shots were fired from distant points by concealed marksmen, and Will heard the bullets chipping on the stones, although none of them struck near. Evidently the rifles had been discharged almost at random. Meanwhile, the number of stars in the heavens increased and new peaks and ridges swam into the light.

Will began another minute examination with the glasses, and he finally became convinced that he saw a human figure outstretched on a small shelf. As he looked longer the details became more clear. It was undoubtedly a man seeking a shot at them. He called the attention of the Little Giant, who took the glasses himself, gazed a while and then resumed his rifle. Will saw that look of menace come over his face again and he also regarded the man on the shelf as already dead.

The Little Giant pulled the trigger and Will, watching through the glasses, saw the outlaw quiver convulsively and then lie quite still. The shelf had become his grave. The lad shivered a little. His lot truly was cast among wild and terrible scenes.

"I'm thinking the double hint will be enough," said Boyd. "If Felton is the man I took him to be when I saw him in the morning, he won't care to risk his skin too much. Nor can any leader of desperadoes keep on bringing up his men against shooting like yours, Giant. And I want to say again, Tom, that you're certainly the greatest marksman in the world. You're so great that there's no occasion to be modest about it. It's evident to anybody that you're the best on all this round globe."

The Little Giant said nothing, but in the dim light Will saw his face flush with gratification.

"The stars are still gathering," said the lad, "and every minute there is more light on the mountains. Suppose we take advantage of Tom's double hint and make at once for the higher ridges."

"We can do so," said Boyd. "It's not so dark now that we can't see the way, and if they still have any notion of besieging us we may be hours ahead before they discover our absence. Will, you talk a little to the animals and loose the lariats, while Giant and I watch here. Then we'll join you and make the start."

Will was among the horses and mules in an instant, stroking them, whispering to them, and soothing them. He was also half through with the task of replacing the packs when Boyd and Bent came. The rest done, they started up the steep natural trail, fortunately hidden at that point from any watchers below. Boyd led, picking the way, Will was among the animals and the Little Giant, with the rifle that never missed, covered the rear.

Higher and higher they went, and, when day broke, they were once more in the scrub pines and cedars, with a cold wind blowing and nipping at their ears and noses. But Boyd, who went far back on the trail, could discover no sign of Felton's band, and they concluded to make camp.

"We've all been tried enough for one night," said Boyd. "Men, horses and mules alike need fresh breath and new nerves."

But before they could find a suitable place it began to rain, not a sweeping storm, but the cold, penetrating drizzle of great heights. Now their bearskin coats protected them in part, but the animals shivered, and the way became so slippery that they had to advance on those heights with exceeding caution and slowness. The rain soon turned to snow, and then back to rain again, but the happy temperament of the Little Giant was able to extract consolation from it.

"Snow and rain together will hide what trace of a trail we may leave," he said. "Ef this keeps up, Felton and his gang will never be able to find us again."

Despite the great dangers of the advance they pushed on upward until they came to a region that Will believed must be above the clouds. At least, it was free there from both rain and snow, and below him he saw such vast areas of mists and vapors that the top of the ridge seemed to swim in the air. It was now about noon, and, at last, finding a nearly level place, they sank down upon it, exhausted.

Nevertheless, the Little Giant was cheerful.

"I'm clean furgittin' all 'bout that gold," he said, "my time now bein' devoted mostly to foot races, tryin' to beat out Indians, outlaws an' all sorts o' desprit characters, in which I hev been successful so fur. My real trade jest now is that o' runner an' mounting climber, an' I expect to git a gold medal fur the same."

He began to whistle in the most wonderful, birdlike fashion, a clear, sweet volume of sound, one popular air of the time following another, every one delivered in such perfect fashion that Will forgot the wet and the cold in the pleasure of listening.

"Now," said Boyd, "there's nothing for it but to start a fire, even though it may show where we are. But we have an advantage in being above the clouds and mists. Then, if the outlaws come we can see 'em coming, though I think our trail is wholly lost to 'em."

Skilled as the two men were in building fires, they had a hard task now, as the wood, besides being scarce, was thoroughly soaked with wet, but they persisted, using flint and steel in order to save their matches. Just when a little blaze began to show signs of living and growing, Will, in his search for fallen and dead wood, turned into a narrow way that led among lofty rocks. It was wet and slippery and he followed it a full hundred yards, but seeing that it was going to end in a deep recess or cavern he turned back. He had just started the other way when he heard a fierce growling sound behind him and the beat of heavy feet. Whirling about he saw an enormous beast charging down upon him. It would scarcely be correct to say that he saw, instead he had a blurred vision of a huge, shaggy form, red eyes, a vast red mouth, armed with teeth of amazing length and thickness, and claws of glistening steel, huge and formidable. Everything was magnified, exaggerated and infinitely terrible.

The lad knew that it was a grizzly bear, roused from its lair, and charging directly upon him. He shouted an alarm, fired once, twice and thrice with the repeating rifle, but the bear came on as fiercely as ever. He felt, or imagined he felt, its hot breath upon him, and leaping aside he scrambled up the rocks for dear life. The bear ran on, and settling himself in place he fired at it twice more. The hunter and the Little Giant, who appeared at the head of the pass, also gave it two bullets apiece, and then the monster toppled over not far from their fire, and after panting a little, lay still.

The Little Giant surveyed the great beast with wonder.

"The biggest I ever saw," he said, "an' it took nine bullets to bring him down, provided you hit him ev'ry time you fired, young William. Ef this is what you're goin' to bring on us whenever you leave the camp I 'low you'd better stick close to the fire."

"He came out of a cavern at the end of the little ravine," said the lad. "Of course, when I went visiting up that way I didn't know he had a home there."

"It 'pears that he did have a home thar, an' that he was at home, too. Now, I 'low you'd better talk a little to your friends, the hosses and mules. They're pow-ful stirred up over the stranger you've brought 'mong us. Hear 'em neighin' an' chargin'."

Will went among the animals, but it took him a long time to soothe them. To them the grizzly bear smell was so strong and it was so strongly suffused with danger that they still panted and moved uneasily after he left them.

"Now, what are you goin' to do with him?" asked the Little Giant, looking at the huge form. "We ain't b'ar huntin' on this trip, but it 'pears a shame to leave a skin like that fur the wolves to t'ar to pieces. We may need it later."

"We don't have to leave it," said Boyd. "A big bearskin weighs a lot, but one of the horses will be able to carry it."

He and the Little Giant, using their strong hunting knives, took off the great skin with amazing dexterity, and then hung it on a stout bough to dry. As they turned away from their task and left the body of the bear, they heard the rush of feet and long, slinking forms appeared in the narrow pass where the denuded body of the monster lay.

"The mountain wolves," said the Little Giant. "It's not likely that they've had such a feast in a long time. I'd like to send a bullet among 'em, but it's no use. Besides, they're actin' 'cordin' to their lights. The Lord made 'em eaters o' other creeturs, an' eat they must to live."

Will heard the fierce snarling and growling as the wolves fought for places at the body of the bear, and, although he knew as the Little Giant had said, that they were only obeying the call of nature, he could not repress a shudder at the eagerness and ferocity in their voices. Once, he climbed a high rock and looked down at them. They were mountain wolves of the largest and most dangerous kind, some reaching a length of seven feet. He watched them with a sort of fascinated awe, and long after he left the rock he still heard the growling. When it ceased he went back to his perch again and saw only the great skeleton of the bear, picked clean, and the last wolf gone.

That afternoon the two men took down the vast skin of the grizzly and scraped it with their hunting knives, working on it a long time, and also admiring the length and luxuriance of the hair.

"It shows that this big fellow lived high upon the mountains where there's lots of cold," said Boyd. "Why, this is really fur, not hair. Maybe he never saw a human being before, and being king of all his range he couldn't have dreamed that he would have been killed by something flying through the air, and that his body would find a scattered grave in the stomachs of wolves."

"Ef the worst comes to the worst, an' it grows too awful cold," said the Little Giant, "this will make a splendid sleeping robe, big enough fur all three of us at the same time."

They kept their fire going all day and all night, and they also maintained a continuous watch, the three taking turns. More snow fell and then melted, and they were glad that it was so, as they felt that the trail was now hidden completely. They also kept down the blaze from their fire, a great bed of coals now having formed, and, as they were in a bowl, the glow from it could not be seen more than ten or fifteen yards away.

At dawn they set out again under cloudy skies with a raw, cold wind always blowing, and advanced slowly, owing to the steep and dangerous nature of the way. Once more they replenished their larder with mountain sheep and mule deer, and packed upon the horses all they could carry. The hunter and the Little Giant agreed now that the sky was ominous, and they had more to fear from it than from pursuit by either Indians or Felton's outlaws.

"I tell you, Jim, an' you too, young William," said the Little Giant, "that we'd better do what would have been done by the big grizzly that's now runnin' in the stomachs o' mounting wolves."

"What's that?" asked Will.

"Hole up! When you can't do anythin' else hole up an' wait 'til the skies clear."

"That would be simple," said Boyd, "if only we three human beings had to hole up, but while we might drive the horses and mules into a cave shelter they'd have nothing to eat."

"What you want to do, Jim Boyd, is to cultivate hope. I won't say you're a grouchy man, 'cause you ain't, but mighty few men are hopeful enough. Now, I want you to hope that we'll not only find a cave shelter for the beasts, but water an' grass fur 'em."

"Well, I hope it."

"That bein' the case, I want to tell you that I've been ahead a little, an' the ground begins to slope off fast. I think we'll soon strike a canyon or valley a few miles deep, more or less. That canyon or valley will hev water in it, an' bein' so sheltered it's bound to hev grass, too. What more could you ask? Thar we'll stay till times grow better."

"You've arranged it all mighty well in your mind."

"An' that bein' the case, let's go on, an' see ef I hevn't arranged it right."

The Little Giant soon proved that he had read the mountain signs aright, as they came to a great descent, the steep walls enclosing a valley of vast depth. Far down Will was able to see the glimmer of a little lake and the green of grass.

"It's our home for a spell," said Boyd. "You were right, Giant. You're the only prophet I've ever known."

"You'd do a heap better, Jim Boyd, ef you'd pay more attention. I told you awhile ago to cheer up an' you cheered, then I told you we'd find a nice home-like valley, an' here it is, a couple o' thousan' feet deep, an' with water an' grass, ez young William's glasses tell us, an' with cave shelter, too, ez my feelin's ez a prophet tell me."

The hunter laughed, and the Little Giant burst into a flood of cheerful, whistling song. In his optimistic mind all affairs were already arranged to the satisfaction of everybody. Nevertheless, it took them a long time to find a way by which the horses could descend, and it required their utmost skill to prevent falls. When they finally stood upon the floor of the valley, animals and human beings alike were weak from nervous strain, and the Little Giant, wiping his perspiring brow, said:

"We're here, but lookin' back I kin hardly see how we ever got here."

"But being here," said Boyd, "we'll now scout around and find the fine house that you as a prophet have promised to us."

The three, agreeing, began at once the task.



CHAPTER VII

THE BEAVER HUNTER

It was perhaps fortunate for the explorers and fur hunters that the great mountains of northwestern America abounded in swift, clear streams and little lakes, many of the lakes being set at a great height in tiny valleys, enclosed by forests and lofty cliffs. There was no dying of thirst, and about the water they always found the beaver. Wood, too, was sure to be plentiful and, in the fierce cold of the northwestern winters they needed much of it. If the valleys were not visited for a long period, and often the Indians themselves did not come to them in years, elk and other game, large and small, made a home there.

It was into one of these most striking nooks that the three had now come. They had been in a valley of the same type before, but this was far deeper and far bolder. There were several acres of good grass, on which the horses and mules might find forage, even under the snow, and the lake, two or three acres in extent, was sure to contain fish good for eating.

But the two men examined with the most care the rocky, western cliff, weathered and honeycombed by the storms of a thousand centuries. As they had expected, they found great cave-like openings at its base, and after much hunting they decided upon one running back about fifty feet, with a width half as great, and a roof varying from seven to twenty feet in height. The floor, fairly level, sloped rather sharply toward the doorway, which would protect them against floods from melting snows. The interior could be fitted up in a considerable degree of comfort with the material from their packs and furs they might take.

They found about fifty yards away another, though shallower, cavern which Will, with his gift for dealing with animals, could induce the horses and mules to use in bad weather. He proved his competency for the task a few hours after their arrival by leading them into it, tolling them on with wisps of fresh grass.

"That settles it so far as they are concerned," said Boyd, "and we had to think of them first. If we're snowed in here it's of the last importance to us to save our animals."

"An' we're goin' to be snowed in, I think," said the Little Giant, looking at the sombre heavens. "How high up did you say we wuz here, young William, ten miles above the level o' the sea?"

"Not ten miles, but we're certainly high, high enough for it to be winter here any time it feels like it. Now I'm going to rake and scrape as many old dead leaves as I can find into the new stone stable. The floor is pretty rough in places, and we don't want any of our beasts to break a leg there."

"All right, you set to work on it," said Boyd, "and Giant and me will labor on our own house."

Will toiled all the day on the new stable, and he enjoyed the homely work. Sometimes he filled in the deeper places in the floor with chunks of dead wood and then heaped the leaves on top. When it was finished it was all in such condition that the animals could occupy it without danger, and he also set up a thick hedge of boughs about the entrance, allowing only four or five feet for the doorway. Even if the snow should be driving hard in that direction the animals would yet be protected. Then he led them inside and barred them there for the night.

He was so much absorbed in his own task that he paid small heed to that of the men, but he was enthusiastic when he took a little rest. They had unpacked everything, and had put all the extra weapons and ammunition on shelves in the stone. They had made three wooden stools and they had smoothed a good place for cooking near the entrance, whence the smoke could pass out. They had also cut great quantities of firewood which they had stored along the sides of the cavern.

About nightfall the hunter shot an elk on the northern slope, and all three worked far into the night at the task of cleaning and cutting up the body, resolving to save every edible part for needs which might be long. All of it was stored in the cavern or on the boughs of trees, and leaving the horses to graze at their leisure on the grassy acres they lay down on their blankets in the cavern and slept the sleep of the little death, that is the sleep of exhaustion, without a dream or a waking moment.

Will did not awake until the sun of dawn was shining in the cavern, although it was at its best a somewhat obscure sun, and the dawn itself was full of chill. When he went outside he found that heavy clouds were floating above the mountains and masses of vapor hung low over the valley, almost hiding the forest, which was thickest at the northern end and the lake which cuddled against the western side.

"I look for a mighty storm, maybe a great snow," said Boyd. "All the signs are here, but it may hang about for several days before coming, and the more time is left before it hits the better for us. It was big luck for us to find so deep a valley just when we did. Now, Will, suppose you take the beasts out to pasture and by the time you get back Giant and me will have breakfast ready."

Will found the horses and mules quite comfortable in the new stable and they welcomed him with neighs and whinnies and other sounds, the best of which their vocal cords were capable. The friendship that he had established with them was wonderful. As the Little Giant truly said, he could have been a brilliant success as an animal trainer. Perhaps they divined the great sympathy and kindness he felt for them, or he had a way of showing it given to only a few mortals. Whatever it may have been, they began to rub their noses against him, the big horse, Selim, finally thrusting his head under his arm, while the mules proudly marched on either side of him as he led the way down to the pasture.

"Ain't it wonderful," said the Little Giant, who saw them from the mouth of the cavern where he and Boyd were cooking, "the way the boy has with animals? My mules like me, but I know they'd leave me any minute at a whistle from young William, an' follow him wherever he went."

"Same way with that horse of mine, Selim. He'd throw me over right away for Will. He's a good lad, with a clean soul and a pure heart, and maybe the animals, having gifts that we don't have, to make up for gifts that we have and they haven't, can look straight into 'em. Do you think, Giant, that Felton could have had a line on our mine?"

"What's your drift, Jim?"

"Could he have been out here somewhere when the Captain, Will's father, found it, and have got some hint about its discovery? Maybe he guesses that Will's got a map, and that's what he's after. He wouldn't have followed us at such terrible risks, unless he had a mighty big motive."

"That's good reasonin', Jim, an' I think thar's somethin' in your notion. Ef it's so, Felton will hang on to the chase o' us ez long ez he's livin', an' fur the present, with Sioux on one side o' us an' outlaws on the other, I'm mighty glad we're hid away here in so deep a cut in the mountings."

"So am I, Giant. I think that coffee is boiling now. Call the lad."

"Young William! Young William!" cried the Little Giant. "Don't you dare to keep breakfus' waitin' the fust mornin' we've moved into our new home."

After breakfast Will and Bent worked on the cavern, while Boyd went hunting on the slopes. They cut many poles and made a palisade at the entrance to the great hollow, leaving a doorway only about two feet wide, over which they could hang the big bearskin in case heavy wind, rain or snow came. Then they packed the whole floor of the cavern with dry leaves, making a kind of matting, over which they intended to spread furs or skins as they obtained them.

"Caves are cold when left to theirselves," said the Little Giant, "an' it's lucky thar's a good nateral place fur our fire jest beside the door. We'll have lots o' meat in here, too, 'cause Jim's a fine hunter an' the valley is full o' game. Thar must be a lot o' grizzly bears roun' in these mountings, too, Young William. Wouldn't it be funny ef we went out some day an' come back to find our new house occupied by a whole family o' fightin' grizzlies, every one o' them with iron claws, ten inches long?"

"No, it wouldn't be funny, Giant, it would be tragic."

"Ef you jest knew it, Young William, we're mighty well off. Many a trappin' outfit hez been froze in in the mountings, in quarters not half so good ez ours."

Boyd shot another elk and smaller deer, and on the next day secured more game, which they cured, concluding now that they had enough to last them indefinitely. Will and the Little Giant, meanwhile, had been working on the house, and Boyd, his hunting over, joined them. The cured skins of the animals were put over the leaf thatch of the floor as they had planned, and as they procured them they intended to hang more on the walls, for the sake of dryness and warmth.

Although the clouds threatened continuously the storm still held off. They expected every morning to wake up and find the snow drifting, but the sun always showed, although dim and obscured by vapors. Will still led the horses and mules down to the grass every morning, and, every night, led them back to the new stone stable. The valley began to wear the aspect of home, of a home by no means uncomfortable, but on the sixth night there Will was awakened by something cold and wet striking upon his face. He went to the door, looked out and saw that the snow they had been expecting so long had come at last. It was thick, driving hard, and for the first time he hung in place the great bearskin, securing it tightly with the fastenings they had arranged and then went back to sleep.

He was the first to awake the next morning, and pushing aside the bearskin, he looked out to see snow still falling and apparently a good six inches in depth already.

"Wake up, Jim, and you, too, Giant!" he called. "Here's our storm at last, and lucky it is that we're holed up so well."

Boyd joined him. The snow was so dense that they could not see across the valley, but it was not driving now, merely floating down lazily and persistently.

"That means it will come for a long time," said Boyd. "Snow clouds are like men. If they begin to pour out their energy in vast quantities they're soon exhausted, but if they work in deliberate fashion they do much more. I take it that this snow won't stop today, nor maybe tonight, nor the next day either."

"We can stand it," said Will. "We're well housed up and we're safe from invasion. If you and Tom will get breakfast I'll feed the horses and mules."

They had employed a large part of the time cutting the thick grass with their hunting knives, and it was now stored in the stable in a considerable quantity, out of the reach of the longest neck among the horses and mules. They were responsive as usual when he came among them, and nuzzled him, because they liked him and because they knew he was the provider of food, that is, he was in effect a god to them.

Will talked to the animals and gave to every one his portion of hay, watching them with pleasure as they ate it, and returned thanks in their own way. When he made his way back through the snow, breakfast was ready and, although they were sparing with the coffee and bread, every one could have all the meat he wished.

"Now, there'll be nothing for us to do but sit around the house," said Boyd, the breakfast over.

"Which means that I kin put in a lot o' my spare time readin'," said the Little Giant. "Young William, bring me my Shakespeare! What, you say I furgot to put it in my pack! Well, then bring me my copy o' the Declaration o' Independence. I always like them words in it, 'Give me lib'ty or give me death!' 'Sic semper tyrannis!'"

"'Give me liberty or give me death' is not in the Declaration of Independence, Giant. Those words were used by Patrick Henry in an address."

"Well, they ought to hev been thar, an' ef Patrick Henry hadn't been so fresh an' used 'em first they would a-been. But you can't go back on 'sic semper tyrannis!'"

"They couldn't possibly be in the declaration, Giant, because they're Latin."

"I reckon the signers o' the Declaration wuz good enough to write Latin an' talk it, too, ef they wanted to."

"They were used eighteen or nineteen hundred years ago by a Roman."

"I guess that's one advantage o' livin' early. You kin git the fust chance at what's best. Anyway, they did say a lot o' rousin' things in the Declaration, though I don't remember exactly what they wuz. But I see I won't hev no chance to git on with my lit'ry pursuits, so I think I'll jest do chores about the house inside."

He went to work in the best of spirits. Will had seldom seen a happier man. He fixed shelves in the stone, arranged the materials from their packs, and all the time he whistled airs, until the cavern seemed to be filled with the singing of nightingales, mocking birds and skylarks. Will and Boyd began to help him, though Will stopped at times to look out.

On every occasion he reported that the snow was still drifting down in a steady, thick, white stream, and that he could not see more than thirty or forty yards from the door. About eleven o'clock in the morning, when he pulled the bearskin aside for perhaps the sixth time, he heard a sound which at first he took to be the distant moan of the wind through a gorge. But he had not heard it on his previous visits, although the wind had been blowing all the morning, and he stood there a little while, listening. As he did not hear it again just yet, he thought his fancy had deceived him, but in a minute or so the sound came once more. It was a weird note, carrying far, but he seemed to detect a human quality in it. And yet what human being could be out there in that lone mountain valley in the wild snow storm? It seemed impossible, but when he heard it a third time the human quality seemed stronger. He beckoned to the hunter and Little Giant.

"Come here," he said, "and tell me if my imagination is playing tricks with me. It seems to me that I've heard a human voice in the storm."

The two came to the doorway and, standing beside him, listened. Once more Will discerned that note and he turned an inquiring face to them.

"There!" he exclaimed. "Did you hear it? It sounded to me like a man's voice!"

Neither Boyd nor Bent replied until the call came once more and then Boyd said:

"It's not your imagination, Will. It's a man out there in the snow, and he's shouting for help. Why he should expect anybody to come to his aid in a place like this is more'n I can understand."

"He's drawin' nearer," said the Little Giant. "I kin make out the word 'hello' said over an' over ag'in. Maybe Felton's band has wandered on a long chase into our valley, an' it's some o' them lost from the others in the storm, callin' to em."

"Like as not," said the hunter. "The snow has covered up most of the traces and trails we've left, and anyway they couldn't rush this cavern in the face of our rifles."

"It's no member of Felton's gang," said Will, with great emphasis.

"How do you know that?" asked Boyd in surprise.

"I can scarcely tell. Instinct, I suppose. It doesn't sound like the voice of an outlaw, though I don't know how I know that, either. Hark, he's coming much nearer! I've an idea the man's alone."

"In the storm," said the Little Giant, "he's likely to pass by the cavern, same ez ef it wuzn't here."

"But we mustn't let him do that," exclaimed Will. "I tell you it's a friend coming! a man we want! Besides, it's no Indian! It's a white man's voice, and we couldn't let him wander around and perish in a wilderness storm!"

The hunter and the Little Giant glanced at each other.

"A feller that kin talk with hosses an' mules, an' hev the toughest mule eat out o' his hand the fust time he ever saw him may be able to tell more about a voice in the wilderness than we kin," said the Little Giant.

"I don't believe you're wrong," said the hunter with equal conviction.

Will threw aside the bearskin and dashed out. The two men followed, their rifles under their fur coats, where they were protected from the storm. The voice could now be heard very plainly calling, and Boyd and Bent were quite sure also that it was not one of Felton's band. It truly sounded like the voice of an honest man crying aloud in the wilderness.

Will still led the way and, as he approached, he gave a long, clear shout, to which the owner of the voice replied instantly, not a hundred yards away. Then the three pressed forward and they saw the figure of a man, exaggerated and gigantic in the falling snow. Behind him stood three horses, loaded heavily but drooping and apparently almost frozen. He gave a cry of joy when the three drew near, and said:

"I called upon the Lord when all seemed lost, but I did not call in vain."

He was tall, clothed wholly in deerskin, and with a fur cap upon his head. His figure was one of great strength, but it was bent somewhat now with weariness. The Little Giant uttered an exclamation.

"By all that's wonderful, it's Steve Brady!" he said. "Steve Brady, the seeker after the lost beaver horde!"

The man extended a hand, clothed in a deerskin gauntlet.

"And it's you, Tom Bent, the Little Giant," he said. "I surely did not dream that when you and I met again it would be in such a place as this. Providence moves in a mysterious way its wonders to perform, and it's a good thing for us it does, or I'd have frozen or starved to death in this valley. That quotation may not be strictly correct, but I mean well."

The Little Giant seized his hand and shook it violently. It was evident that the stranger was one whom he admired and liked.

"Ef we'd knowed it wuz you callin', Steve Brady," he said, "we'd hev come sooner. But hev you found that huge beaver colony you say is somewhar in the northwestern mountings, the biggest colony the world hez ever knowed?"

"I have not, Tom Bent. 'Search and ye shall find' says the Book, and I have searched years and years, but I have never found. If I had found, you would not see me here in this valley, a frozen man with three frozen horses, and I ask you, Tom Bent, if you have ever yet discovered a particle of the gold for which you've been looking all the years since you were a boy."

"Not a speck, Steve, not a speck of it. If I had I wouldn't be here. I'd be in old St. Looey, the grandest city in the world, stoppin' in the finest room at the Planters' House, an' tilted back in a rockin' chair pickin' my teeth with a gold tooth pick, after hevin' et a dinner that cost a hull five dollars. But you come into our house, Steve, an' warm up an' eat hot food, while Young William, here, takes your hosses to the stable, an' quite a good hoss boy is young William, too."

"House! Fire! Food! Stable! What do you mean?"

"Jest what I say. These are my friends, Thomas Boyd and William Clarke, young William. Boys, this is Stephen Brady, who has been a fur hunter all his life but who hasn't been findin' much o' late. Come on, Steve."

Will took the three horses and led them to the stable, into which he pushed them without much trouble, and where they received a fair welcome. He also threw them a quantity of the hay, and then he ran back to the house, where Boyd and Bent were rapidly fanning the coals into a blaze and were warming food. Brady's outer garments were steaming before the fire, and he was sitting on a stone outcrop, a look of solemn satisfaction on his face.

"It is truly a habitation in the wilderness," he said, "and friends the best and bravest in the world. It is more, far more, than I, a lone fur hunter, had a right to expect. Truly it is more than any humble mortal such as I had a right to hope for. But as the sun stood still over Gibeon, and as the moon stood still over the vale of Ajalon at the command of Joshua, so the wilderness and the storm opened at the command of the Lord, and disclosed to me those who would save me."

There was nothing of the unctuously pious about his tone and manner, instead it was sternly enthusiastic, full of courage and devotion. He made to Will a mental picture of one of Cromwell's Ironsides, or of the early New England Puritans, and his Biblical language and allusions heightened the impression. The lad felt instinctively that he was a strong man, great in the strength of body, mind and spirit.

"Take another slice o' the elk steak, Steve," said the hospitable Little Giant, who was broiling them over coals. "You've et only six, an' a man o' your build an' hunger ought to eat at least twelve. We've got plenty of it, you won't exhaust the supply, never fear. An' take another cup o' coffee; it will warm your insides right down to your toes. I'm mighty glad to see you, an' young William's mighty glad to see you."

"You couldn't have been as glad to see me as I was to see you," said Brady with a solemn smile. "Truly it seems that one may be saved when apparently his last hour has come, if he will only hope and persist. It may be that you will yet find your gold, Thomas Bent, that you, James Boyd and William Clarke, will find whatever you seek, though I know not what it is, nor ask to know, and that I, too, will find some day the great beaver colony of which I have dreamed, a colony ten times as large as any other ever seen even in these mountains."

Boyd and Bent exchanged glances, but said nothing. It was evident that they had the same thought and Will's quick and active mind leaped up too. In their great quest they needed at least another man, a man honest, brave and resourceful, and such a man in the emergency was beyond price. But for the present they said nothing.

"Thar's one thing I'd like fur you to explain to me, Steve," said the Little Giant, who was enjoying the hospitality he gave, "why wuz you callin' so much through the storm? Wuz it jest a faint hope, one chance in a million that trappers might be here in the valley?"

"No, Thomas, it was not a hope. A sign was vouchsafed to me. When I knew the storm was coming I started for this valley, which I visited once, years ago, and, although the snow caught me before I could reach it, I managed, owing to my former knowledge, to get down the slope without losing any of my horses. Then in the valley I saw saplings cut freshly by the axe, cut so recently in truth that I knew the wielders of the steel must still be here, and in all likelihood were white men. Strong in that faith I called aloud and you answered, but I did not dream that one whom I knew long ago, and one, moreover, whom I knew to be honest and true, was here. It is a lesson to us that hope should never be wholly lost."

All were silent for a little space, feeling deeply the truth of the man's words and manner, and then, when Brady finished his last elk steak and his last cup of coffee, Boyd said:

"I think, Mr. Brady, that you've had a terrible time and that you need sleep. You can roll in dry blankets in the corner there, and we'll arrange your packs for you. Will reports that your animals have made friends with ours, as you and we have surely made friends, and there's nothing left for you now but to take a big sleep."

"That I'll surely do," said Brady, smiling a solemn smile, "but first promise me one thing."

"What is that?"

"Don't call me Mr. Brady. It doesn't sound right coming from men of my own age. To you I'm Steve, just as I am to our friend Thomas."

"All right, Steve, but into the blankets with you. Even a fur hunter can catch pneumonia, if he's just bent on doing it."

Brady rolled himself in the blankets and soon slept. The hunter, the Little Giant and Will drew to the other side of the cavern, and before a word was spoken every one of the three was conscious of what was in the minds of the others. Will was the first to speak.

"He's the man," he said.

"We shorely need him," said the Little Giant.

"I don't think we could do better," said Boyd.

"It's luck, big luck, that we found him or he found us," continued the Little Giant. "When these solemn, prayin' men are real, they're real all over. He's as brave as a lion, he'll hang on like a grizzly bear, an' he's as honest as they ever make 'em. He's a fightin' man from start to finish. From what you say thar must be more'n a million in that mine, an' in huntin' fur it an' keepin' it after we find it, Steve Brady is wuth at least a quarter o' a million to us."

"All of that," said the hunter. "But the mine really belongs to Will, here, and it's for him to bring in a new partner."

"It belongs to us all now," said the lad, "though I'll admit I was the original owner. I think Mr. Brady will just round out our band. I'm for offering him a full partnership."

"Then you do the talkin'," said the Little Giant. "It's right that it should come from you."

When Brady awoke many hours later three very serious faces confronted him, and his acute mind saw at once that he was about to receive a communication of weight.

"It looks like a committee," he said with solemn importance. "Who is the spokesman?"

"I am," replied Will, "and what we have to say to you is really of importance, of vast importance. Mr. Bent has been looking many years for gold, but has never yet found a grain of it. Now he has given up his independent search, and is joining with Mr. Boyd and me in a far bigger hunt. You've been looking eight or ten years, you say, for the gigantic beaver colony, but have never found it. Now we want you to give up that hunt for the time, and join us, because we need you much."

"Your words have an earnest sound, young man, and I know that you and your comrades are honest, but I do not take your full meaning."

"It is this," said Will, and he produced from his secret pocket the precious map. "My father, who was a captain in the army, found a great mine of gold, but before he could work it, or even make any preparations to do so, he was called for the Civil War, in which he fell. But he left this map that tells me how to reach it somewhere in the vast northwestern mountains. To locate it and get out the treasure I need fighting men, the best fighting men the world can furnish, wilderness fighters, patient, enduring and full of knowledge. I have two such in Mr. Boyd and Mr. Bent, but we need just one more, and we have agreed that you should be the fourth, if you will favor us by entering into the partnership. It is full of danger, as you know. We have already had a fight with the Sioux, and another with a band of outlaws, led by Martin Felton."

A spark leaped up in the stern eye of Stephen Brady.

"I am a fur hunter," he said, "though there is little prospect of success for me now, owing to the Indian wars, but I have spent all my manhood years among dangers. Perhaps I should feel lonely if they were absent, and you may dismiss that idea."

"I thought so. Will you enter into full partnership with us in this great enterprise? Mr. Bent has appraised your full value as a fighting man in this crisis at a quarter of a million dollars, and we know that the mine contains at least a million. I beg you not to refuse. We need your strong arm and great heart. You will be conferring the favor upon us."

"And the vast beaver colony that I'm going to find some day?"

"It can wait. It will be there after we get out the gold."

"And you are in full agreement with this, James Boyd?"

"I am."

"And you are in full agreement with this, too, Thomas Bent?"

"I am."

"Then I accept. A quarter of a million dollars is a great sum. I scarcely thought there was so much money in the world, but one may do much with it. I am already forming certain plans in my mind. Will you let me take another and thorough look at your map, William?"

He studied it long and attentively, and then as he handed it back to the owner, he said:

"It will be a long journey, as you have said, full of dangers, but I think I am not boasting when I say we be four who know how to meet hardship and peril. I make the prediction that after unparalleled dangers we will find the mine. Yet a quarter of a million is too vast a sum for my services. I could not accept such an amount. Make it about ten thousand dollars."

Will laughed.

"You must bear in mind, Mr. Brady," he said, "that we haven't all this gold yet, and it will be a long time before we do get it. We're all to be comrades and full partners, and you must be on exactly the same terms as the others. We've probably saved your life, and we demand, therefore, that you accept. Standing squarely on our rights, we'll take no refusal."

The stern eyes of Brady gleamed.

"Since you give me no choice, I accept," he said.



CHAPTER VIII

THE MOUNTAIN RAM

It snowed for two days and two nights without ceasing, and then turned so cold that the snow froze over, a covering like glass forming upon it. Will broke a way to the stable, where he talked to the animals and fed them with the hay which had been cut with forethought. With the help of the others he also opened a path down to a little stream flowing into the lake, where the horses and mules were able to obtain water, spending the rest of the time in the cavern.

The men usually had a small fire and they passed the time while they were snowed in in jerking more meat, repairing their clothes and doing a hundred other things that would be of service later on. Brady stored his traps in a remote corner of the cavern, hiding them so artfully that it was not likely anyone save the four would ever find them.

"I shall have no further use for them for a long time," he said, "but after we reach our gold I mean to return here and get them."

Will, who noticed his grammatical and good English, rather unusual on the border, asked him how he came to be a fur hunter.

"Drift," he replied. "You would not think it, but it was my original intention to become a schoolmaster. An excursion into the west made me fall in love with the forest, the mountains, solitude and independence. I've always taken enough furs for a good living, and I'm absolutely my own master. Moreover, I'm an explorer and it gives me a keen pleasure to find a new river or a new mountain. And this northwest is filled with wonders. After we find the gold and my beaver colony, I'm going to write a book of a thousand pages about the wonders I've seen."

"I never saw anybody that wrote a book," said the Little Giant with the respect of the unlettered for the lettered, "an' I confess I ain't much of a hand at readin' 'em, but when I'm rich ez I expect to be a year or two from now, an' I build my fine house in St. Looey, I mean to have a room full of 'em, in fine leather an' morocco bindin's."

"Will you read them?" asked Will.

"Me read 'em! O' course not!" replied the Little Giant. "I'll hire a man to read 'em, an' he kin keep busy on them books while I'm away on my long huntin' trips."

"But that won't be you reading 'em."

"What diff'unce does that make? All a book asks is to be read by somebody, en' ef it's read by my reader 'stead o' me it's jest the same."

The days confirmed them in their choice of Brady as the fourth partner in the great hunt. Despite his rather stern and solemn manner he was at heart a man of most cheerful and optimistic temperament. He had, too, a vast fund of experience and he knew much of the wilderness that was unknown to others.

"What do you think of our plan of going straight ahead as soon as we can travel, and passing over the left shoulder of the White Dome?" asked Boyd.

"It's wisest," replied Brady thoughtfully. "I've heard something of this Felton, with whom you had such a sanguinary encounter, and I'm inclined to think from all you tell me that he has had a hint about the mine. He has affiliated with the Indians and he can command a large band of his own, white men, mostly murderous refugees from the border, and the worst type of half breeds. It's better for us to keep as long as we can in the depths of the mountains despite all the difficulties of travel there."

On the fifth day it turned much warmer and rained heavily, and so violent were the changes in the high mountains that there was a tremendous manifestation of thunder and lightning. They watched the display of electricity with awe from the door of the cavern, and Will saw the great sword blades of light strike more than once on the rocks of the topmost peaks.

"I think," said Brady devoutly, "that we have been watched over. Where else in the mountains could we have found such a refuge for our animals and ourselves?"

"Nowhere," said the Little Giant, cheerfully, "an' I want to say that I'm enjoyin' myself right here. We four hev got more o' time than anythin' else, an' I ain't goin' to stir from our nice, comf'table home 'til the travelin's good."

The others were in full agreement with him, and, in truth, delay was absolutely necessary as a march now would have been accompanied by new and great dangers, snow slides, avalanches, and the best of the paths slippery with mud and water. When the rain ceased, although a warm sun that followed it hastened the melting of the snow, Will released the animals from the stable and with pleasure saw them run about among the trees, where the snow had melted and sprigs of hardy grass were again showing green against the earth. After they had drunk at the lake and galloped up and down awhile, they began to nibble the grass, while Will walked among them and stroked their manes or noses, and was as pleased as they were. Brady's three horses were already as firm friends of his as the earlier animals.

"Did you ever notice that boy's ways with hosses an' mules?" said the Little Giant to Brady. "He's shorely a wonder. I think he's got some kind o' talk that we don't understand but which they do. My critters and Boyd's would quit us at any time fur him, an' so will yours."

"I perceive it is true, my friend, and so far as my horses are concerned I don't grudge him his power. Now that the snow has gone and the greenness is returning this valley truly looks like the land of Canaan. And it is well for us to be outside again. People who live the lives that we do flourish best in the open air."

The warm days lasted and all the snow melted, save where it lay perpetually on the crest of the White Dome. Often they heard it thundering in masses down the slopes. The whole earth was soaked with water, and swift streams ran in every gulch and ravine and canyon. Will, although he was impatient to be up and away, recognized now how thoroughly necessary it was to wait. The mountains in such a condition were impassable, and the valley was safe, too, because for the time nobody could come there either.

Big game wandered down again and Brady shot another large grizzly bear, the skin of which they saved and tanned, thinking it might prove in time as useful as the first. Another deer was added to their larder, and they also shot a number of wild fowl. But as the hills began to dry their minds returned with increasing strength to the great mine, hidden among far-away peaks. All were eager to be off, and it was only the patience coming from experience that delayed the start.

The valley dried out rapidly. The snow, deep as it had been, did not seem to have done any harm to the grass, which reappeared fresher and stronger than ever, forming a perfect harvest for the horses and mules. Then the time for departure came and they began to pack, having added considerably to their stores of skins and cured meats.

Brady also had been exceedingly well equipped for a long journey, and the temporary abandonment of his traps gave them a chance to add further to their food supplies. All four of them, in addition to their food, carried extra weapons, including revolvers, rifles, and a fine double-barreled shotgun for every one. The two caverns, the one for the men and the other for the horses, they left almost as they had fitted them up.

"We may come here ag'in," said the Little Giant. "It's true that Felton's men an' the Sioux also may come, but I don't think it's ez likely, 'cause the Sioux are mostly plains warriors, an' them that ain't are goin' down thar anyhow to fight, while the outlaws likely are ridin' to the west huntin' fur us."

"Anyway," said Stephen Brady, in his deep, bass voice, "we'll trust to Providence. It's amazing how events happen in your favor when you really trust."

Although eager to be on their way, they felt regret at leaving the valley. It had given them a snug home and shelter during the storm, and the melting of the snow had acted like a gigantic irrigation scheme, making it greener and fresher than before. As they climbed the western slope it looked more than ever a gem in its mountain setting. Will saw far beneath him the blue of lake and the green of grass, and he waved his hand in a good-bye, but not a good-bye forever.

"I expect to sleep there again some day," he said.

"It's a fine home," said Brady, "but we'll find other lakes and other valleys. As I have told you before, I have trapped for years through these regions, and they contain many such places."

They pressed forward three more days and three more nights toward the left shoulder of the White Dome, which now rose before them clear and dazzlingly bright against the shining blue of the sky. The air was steadily growing colder, owing to their increasing elevation, but they had no more storms of rain, sleet or snow. They were not above the timber line, and the vegetation, although dwarfed, was abundant. There was also plenty of game, and in order to save their supplies they shot a deer or two. On the third day Will through his glasses saw a smoke, much lower down on their left, and he and the Little Giant, descending a considerable distance to discover what it meant, were able to discern a deep valley, perhaps ten miles long and two miles broad, filled with fine pastures and noble forest, and with a large Indian village in the centre. Smoke was rising from at least a hundred tall tepees, and several hundred horses were grazing on the meadows.

"Tell me what you can about them," said the lad, handing the glasses to the Little Giant.

"I think they're Teton Sioux," said Bent, "an' ez well ez I kin make out they're livin' a life o' plenty. I kin see game hangin' up everywhar to be cured. Sometimes, young William, I envy the Indians. When the weather's right, an' the village is in a good place an' thar's plenty to eat you never see any happier fellers. The day's work an' huntin' over, they skylark 'roun' like boys havin' fun with all sorts o' little things. You wouldn't think they wuz the same men who could enjoy roastin' an enemy alive. Then, they ain't troubled a bit 'bout the future, either. Termorrer kin take care o' itself. I s'pose that's what downs 'em, an' gives all the land some day to the white man. Though I hev to fight the Indian, I've a lot o' sympathy with him, too."

"I feel the same way about it," said Will. "Maybe we won't have any more trouble with them."

The Little Giant shook his head.

"We may dodge 'em in the mountains, though that ain't shore," he said, "but when we go down into the plains, ez we've got to do sooner or later, the fur will fly. I'm mighty glad we picked up Steve Brady, 'cause fur all his solemn ways he's a pow'ful good fightin' man. Now, I think we'd better git back up the slope, 'cause warriors from that village may be huntin' 'long here an', however much we may sympathize with the Indians we're boun' to lose a hull lot o' that sympathy when they come at us, burnin' fur our scalps."

"Correct," laughed Will, and as fast as they could climb they rejoined the others, telling what they had seen. Brady showed some apprehension over their report.