BUFFALO ROOST

A Story of a Young Men's Christian Association Boys' Department

by

F. H. CHELEY

Boys' Work Director, Young Men's Christian Association, South Bend, Ind. 

1913

TO Every Good Fellow WHO CUT A LOG OR TURNED A STONE FOR THE CONSTRUCTIONOF THE OLD CABIN IN BUFFALO PARK, AND TO

My Father WHO BUILT ITS HEART AND INSPIRATION, THE FIREPLACE, THIS STORYIS DEDICATED

CONTENTS

 I. WILLIS THORNTON DISPLAYS HIS PLUCK II. A STORY IS TOLD AND A PROMISE MADE III. IN WHICH WILLIS IS HONORED IV. WILLIS BECOMES INTERESTED IN GOLD MINES V. A PLAN IS EVOLVED VI. A STAGE ROAD JOURNEY VII. A WILDERNESS CAMP VIII. THE SECOND DAY OUT IX. THE THIRD DAY OUT X. A GLIMPSE OF BUFFALO ROOST XI. A STRANGE TURN OF FATE XII. THE DISCOVERY OF THE MINE XIII. SLEEPY SMITH HAS AN EXPERIENCE XIV. THE OPENED DOOR XV. IN WHICH FATE TAKES A HAND

CHAPTER I

Willis Thornton Displays His Pluck

Train No. 6 on the D. & P. W. , two hours late at Limon, was rushing andjolting along over its rickety roadbed. The rain fell in torrents, theheavy peals of thunder seemed about to tear the car to pieces, the blackand threatening clouds blotted out the landscape, and the passengerscould hear nothing but the roar of the thunder and the rattle of thetrain. The brakeman, shaking the water from his hat as he passed throughthe aisle, dropped something about it being a "mighty tough day forrailroadin'. "

Suddenly there was a creaking, a cracking, and then a series of awfuljolts. Window glass broke and flew in every direction. Like a mightymonster that had suddenly been frightened by an unseen foe, the trainlurched forward, tipped a little, and slowly came to an uncertain stop. People were hurled from their seats with a great violence as theemergency brake was set. A baby cried out from a seat near the front ofthe car, and a woman screamed as a satchel from the luggage rack aboveher head dropped down upon her. Willis Thornton raised his arms above hishead just in time to save a heavy leather suitcase from striking hismother full in the face. Through the broken windows was heard the shrillwarning notes of the engine's trouble whistle, but so intense was thestorm that the sound seemed rather a part of the raging gale. Thebrakeman rushed through the car, and as he passed Willis heard himexclaim half-aloud, "The freight!" Then in a loud, shaky voice, not meantto betray excitement, he shouted, "All out; train off the track!"

He need not have spoken, however, for the people who had not alreadygotten out were close upon him. First in the rush was the mother of thebabe that had screamed when the first jolts came. She was wild-eyed andhysterical. A piece of flying glass had struck her on the face, and thewarm, trickling blood had frightened her. She rushed up to the nearestman and shouted, "Is my husband safe?" Just then a sickly, dudish littleman, with a lighted cigar in his mouth, rushed toward her. 

"Ba Jove, my dear, you are 'urt, " he said as she hurried toward him andfainted in his arms. 

The word had been passed around that a heavy freight was expected at anymoment. The passenger whistle blew in long, shrill tones, while thebrakeman hurried up the hill in the direction of the expected freight togive the danger signal. Hardly had he reached the top when there camethe faint sound of a whistle. He heard the three blasts. The train hadleft Eastonville! Could he save a wreck? Lantern in hand, he hurried downthe track as fast as he could with the wind and rain beating him back. Suddenly a black form loomed up in the mist ahead. Full blast she came, the black smoke from her stack running ahead as if to coax her on togreater speed. The brakeman waved his red lantern frantically in the air. There was a screeching sound of brake-shoes on the wheels, a long, shrillwhistle, and the train sped past him, a misty dull serpent in the storm. He turned and followed as fast as he could. 

Women with disheveled hair stood and wrung their hands. Men cursed andswore as they ran back and forth about the derailed passenger. The windlulled for a second, and in the momentary silence there came thehalf-smothered cry of a little child from one direction, answered fromsomewhere in the fog by the rushing of wheels and the faint, weird sighof a whistle. 

Willis's head went up, his eyes flashed, his muscles tightened; then, turning to his mother, he cried, "The baby!" and in an instant was gone. It all happened so quickly there was no time for Mrs. Thornton to think. She saw Willis hasten away and enter the front door of the car they hadbeen occupying; at the same instant she became aware of the approachingtrain. There was a shrill, angry hiss, and the freight swung into the cutwith a terrible roar, then came a crashing of glass and breaking oftimbers. The engineer had opened the whistle valve with such a jerk thatit had stuck fast, and the whistle did its utmost. It was a dolefulsound, pulsating its strange, sharp cry into the storm. 

Mrs. Thornton sank to her knees in an attitude of prayer, her headdropped to her breast. The mother that had fainted roused a little andcalled for her child. 

The passengers rushed back and forth in a perfect frenzy, shouting, "Thebaby! the baby!" Women cried and begged and implored some one to save it;but it was all over before any one could act or before the Englishmanrealized that it was his child that was in danger. The engines hadtelescoped. The freight was derailed and the first three cars completelydemolished. The crew had all jumped and were uninjured, except thefireman, who had a badly-broken leg and some bruises. Two men came aroundthe end of the Pullman with a boy supported between them. His head hunglimp and the blood trickled slowly from nasty cuts on his head and face. Following them came the brakeman with a very frightened but unharmedbaby, wrapped in an overcoat. Every one made a rush for the little group. The Englishman was first in line. His eyes opened wide and his cigar fellfrom his lips. "By Jove, Chauncey!" he exclaimed, "they came near gettingyou that time, " then began to cry like a child. 

The danger was past. There was no one killed, and only a few injured. Several people were cut by broken glass and bruised by bumps. The firemanof the freight had broken his leg and cut his shoulder badly in his jump. Willis had reached the opposite platform, with the baby in his arms, justas the trains collided. The jar had thrown him from his feet and brokenthe glass in the door behind him. The jolt threw him, baby and all, outagainst the side of the cut into the wet sand. Outside of the ugly cutsand bad bruises he was unharmed, but was the hero of the day. 

Mrs. Thornton sat by her boy, tenderly caring for his every need. He hadswooned at the sight of his own blood and had not yet returned toconsciousness. In the next seat the injured fireman was propped up onpillows, watching the boy. 

"There's a piece of real stuff, " he said to the engineer as they sattalking together. "Looks just like my old pard. It took real pluck to goafter that baby. If Bill'd a been here he would have gotten enthusiasticover that lad. "

CHAPTER II

A Story Is Told and a Promise Made

An open fire had always been tremendously fascinating to Willis Thornton, and on winter evenings, when his chores were done and supper over, hewould pile the big fireplace high with maple logs, then sit and dream asthe flames danced and the fire roared. He was a sturdy lad, healthy, cheerful, wholesome, and tonight he was thinking. 

The snow-laden wind was sweeping across the "Flat Bush. " At every freshgust the fire would crackle and the little blue flames start up along thenone-too-well seasoned logs. Outside the old farmhouse the great deadlimb of a monstrous white oak moaned and sighed, while the usual soundsfrom the barnyard were lost in the patter of the icy snowflakes thatrattled against the window pane. From the open door of the kitchen camefaint odors of freshly-popped corn and the monotonous hum of the oldsewing-machine. Willis was hardly aware of any presence in the room savehis own until a warm hand was laid gently on his and a dish of snowypopcorn set in his lap. He had been so engrossed with his own fanciesthat he had not seen his mother enter the firelit room and come towardhim. 

"Well, my boy; what are you dreaming of tonight?" she asked, as sheseated herself in her accustomed place on the arm of his chair and placedher arm gently on his shoulder. 

"O, I've just been planning a bit, mother, " he said with a smile. "Sometimes when I sit here by this old fire I forget myself. I travel tothe strangest lands and think the strangest thoughts. Still, they allseem so very real to me that when I try not to think of them a peculiarrestlessness comes over me. I can hardly wait for summer and the greatbig out-of-doors. Did you ever think, mother, what life would be if wedidn't have the birds and the bees and the flowers? Are people in thecities happy and contented without them? I've often wondered. I supposesome day I'll be going to the city to live, as all the other boys havedone; but when I think of it it makes me sad. I don't believe I'd ever behappy in the city, mother, unless--"

He paused long enough to stir up the fire and put on another log. 

"Unless what, Willis?" his mother inquired. 

"Unless--" he hesitated as if thinking. "I could go West to where fatherwas. "

His mother listened as he went on. "The schoolmaster was telling us todayabout the wonderful Rocky Mountains. He was there last summer on hisvacation, you know. We were studying about Pike's Peak and the Garden ofthe Gods, so he told us all about his trip there. He went from ColoradoSprings to somewhere away up in the mountains to a great gold camp. Hetold us of the queer little shanties the people live in, and of the greatpiles of waste ore outside of each mine. He went through one mine, theIndependence, I think he called it, or the Portland--I don't rememberwhich now; but he said the machinery used in hoisting the ore waswonderful. It all set me to thinking of father--I've been thinking of himall day. Mother, it's mighty hard for a fellow like me not to have anyfather, only just a dead one. "

He arose a second time to replenish the fire, but remained standing, facing his mother. He was too deeply interested in his own thoughts justthen to notice the tears that were slowly stealing down his mother'sface, and the light was too dim for him to see her sad, care-wornexpression. She was not old, but fate had not been kind to her. She was aslender little woman, with a heavy mass of what had once been brown hair, but it was now streaked with gray. Her eyes were large and brown, and theintermingled expression of love and sadness made her face one of tenderbeauty, lighted as it was by the rosy tints from the open fire. As theboy talked on in his manly way she suddenly became aware of a change inhim. She noticed the well-built and symmetrically developed body, thebroad shoulders, the short, stocky neck, and the head covered with brownringlets. She could not see the face, but she knew only too well of whomit reminded her, for of late she had often found herself saying, "Justlike the father--just like the father. "

It was during such winter evenings as this that she had come to know herson best, as she sat on the arm of his chair and listened with tactfulsympathy to his stories of the big black bass that kept house in the poolat the end of the lake, or of the downy woodpecker's nest in the oldhickory, or, perhaps, of the big hoot owl that perched on the granarywarm nights to watch for mice. It was with a certain feeling of sadness, as well as of pride, that she watched him grow older, lose his boyhoodways, and become more and more of a man--a man just like his father!

"I get so lonely for some one to teach me things, and go with me into thebig woods, and help me skin my rats in season, " he was saying, "and toteach me to use tools and to understand the books and--"

"Yes, my son, " she replied. "But haven't you me? Won't I do to read withyou and help you find new wild flowers and gather strange caterpillars inthe spring?"

"Yes, mother, of course you will, and you know how I do care for you. Icouldn't begin to do without you even for a day; but someway you don'tunderstand. It's because you are a woman. Sometimes I feel as if I wouldbe the happiest boy in the Clear Creek School if I just had a father Icould look up to and be proud of and--"

"O, but Willis, be careful. " Her voice was low and full of feeling. "Youcan do all that, my boy, and more. I know you miss him, but you must notforget we had him once, both of us, and that he was the very best fatherin all the world. " She stopped, for now the tears were coming fast. "Theonly trouble is that he was taken away before you were lad enough to knowhim and love him as you would if we had him now. But that is all the morereason why you should grow into a worthy man, my boy--for his sake andmine. He loved you dearly, and I've often thought it was that love andambition for you that made him determine to make money, so that you mighthave the future he planned for you. He left you, my boy, something betterthan money--a heritage of clean, noble blood and character. You aren'told enough just yet to know all that that means, but some day you willbe truly thankful. "

"You are right--always right; but you know what I mean, don't you? Youhave never told me all about him, have you, mother? Won't you tell menow? I never wanted to know so badly as I do tonight. He seems to comenear to me sometimes, even if I can't see him, and I want to know moreabout him. "

The fire burned low; the storm had increased in its fury; it seemed as ifeach gust would lift the house from its foundations. Still, to these two, opening their hearts to each other in the kindly glow of the firelight, the storm was forgotten. 

After a pause she began softly and very slowly to tell the story. 

"Your father was a noble man, Willis, such as I am sure you will be ifyou are spared to live. His boyhood I do not know much about, only thatit was spent on his father's farm. He went to Kalamazoo for hisschooling, and it was there that I first met him. He worked hard, savedhis money, and went to Ann Arbor for his college work. He was ambitiousto become a great engineer, and was always tinkering at some kind of amachine. He used to joke with me about becoming a great inventor, andafter we were married he did try his hand at a patent coupler and aback-firing device for a gas engine. He was just like you, my boy, alwaysdreaming and seeing things in the out-of-doors. I can remember thedelight he found in rising early on summer mornings to search forcaterpillars, moths, and worms in the nearby woods, and he would put astrange bug in every bottle I had in the house. 

"After our marriage we moved to Lansing, and he became superintendent inan electrical manufacturing company. He had a little shop of his own inthe basement at home, and during the long winter evenings of the firstyear that we were there he built furniture for our little home. The chairwe are sitting in, Willis, is one of his first pieces. We were very happytogether there, and it wasn't long before you came. The summer before youwere born his company sent him West to install mine machinery. It wasthen that he became interested in the great gold mines of Colorado. Everybody seemed to be prospecting and staking gold claims. He thought hesaw his chance to get rich quickly, so he, too, began prospecting. Hevery soon developed a great love for the mountains, and while you were ababy he used to go to Colorado Springs for his vacations. His mind wasvery active, and as he became more closely acquainted with the mines heconceived an idea for a machine to roast gold ore by electricity. In thewinter evenings he would sit sketching its parts and dreaming over hisplans. Sometimes in his boyish enthusiasm he would assure me that hewould yet be a rich man. "

"And what about his mine, mother; doesn't that come into the story prettysoon?" "Yes, yes, but don't hurry me, son. It seems so very strange to besitting here telling you all about him, for it seems to have happened solong, long ago. 

"On one of his trips west he fell in with an old mountaineer namedKieser, Tad Kieser. Tad became interested in his roasting machine, andthey decided to locate claims together. Tad was to put up the 'grubstakes, ' as they called it, for your father had no money except hissalary. All one fall, when he was not installing machinery, they exploredthe mountains south of Colorado Springs, especially along the old StageRoad to Cripple Creek, looking for suitable claims. The old Stage Roadwas a steep, rocky mountain road over which they hauled provisions andpassengers into the Cripple Creek district. 

"Several miles from the city there was an old log hostelry--'Wright'sRoad House' they called it. Here lived a strange old man, a mountaineerof the oldest type. Daddy Wright, they called him. He and Tad were oldfriends, so your father became very well acquainted with him. The stagesto and from the gold camp always stopped at Dad's; sometimes for a mealand sometimes for all night. It was one of the delights of your father'sbusiness trips to spend an evening with this old man in his roughmountain cabin, sitting before his crude stone fireplace smoking andlistening to stories of the days of 'forty-nine, ' when Dad had hunted forgold in the mountains of California. Your father and Tad were both in theold road house the night it was burned and barely escaped with theirlives. He didn't tell me about it until long afterwards. 

"Tad and your father finally filed on two claims. One was on CheyenneMountain, near Dad's claims, and the other was somewhere near a mountaincalled Cookstove. Your father thought that valley was the most beautifulspot he had ever seen. He used to write me long letters describing thebeautiful canyon and the falls, which was just a ribbon of water thattrickled down the face of a monstrous granite boulder hundreds of feet inheight. He called it St. Marys Falls. Here, somewhere in a hidden spot ofthis canyon, they found a strange outcropping of black rock which yourfather believed would lead to an extensive gold vein in the interiorof the mountain. I remember he called the vein an 'iron dyke, ' and saidthat a compass revolted when placed on it. His great desire was to minethat strata by means of a tunnel, but he had no money, so he and Taddecided that they would work during the winter months and save what moneythey could, then both work on the tunnel in warm weather. They chose aspot down in the canyon that was high, but still near the stream, andthere built a log shanty to live in while they worked the claim. He wroteme how they cut the great spruce on the side of the mountain far abovethe chosen spot and rolled them in. Dad let them use his team of donkeysto pack in the necessary lumber and shingles for the 'shack. ' Father camehome, and Tad, with some hired help, erected the first log cabin in thecanyon. My, but he was proud of it. 

"The next spring saw them at work on the tunnel. I did so hate to letfather go, for I was afraid some harm would befall him; but he reassuredme and seemed so positive that all our future hopes lay hidden in thathole that I let him go. The first season they went in thirty feet, andthings looked better every foot. It was very hard for him to close up thehole and come home to his winter's work. His company in Lansing hadinspected the drawings of his proposed machine and had promised him agoodly sum for the patent if he proved that it would work. The onlyquestion was the securing of the proper ore for flux. I remember hishopes ran high when one day they came upon a narrow vein of thisnecessary flux stone. He was so sure that they would find more, and thegold, too, that he made plans to build a great reducing plant, using thefalls for motor power. He had it all worked out on paper, even todetails. 

"Meanwhile my sister, your Aunt Lucy, and Uncle Joe went West for herhealth, and settled in Colorado Springs. Uncle Joe became a real estatedealer and also interested in mines and mining properties. He was greatlyinterested in the tunnel, and predicted great things for its future. About this time all the land around the canyon, both north and south, became a part of the Pike's Peak Forest Reserve, so that your father hadto refile on his claim and prove to the land office that he was working areal mineral vein. In refiling, his claim was not big enough to includethe shanty, but anticipating no trouble on account of it he neglected tolease his cabin from the Forest Reserve officials. The news leaked outthat gold had been discovered in Cookstove Gulch, and in a few days theentire stream was staked from one end of the canyon to the other asplacer claims. Of course the cabin site became the property of anotherman, and with it the cabin, as it could not be moved. The new owner was alittle, short, pudgy man with an ever-ready eye for business, so fatherand Tad were forced to rent the cabin they had built and paid for. Thatwinter was the one your sister Mabel was taken from us, and the last yearwe were all together. "

She stopped and gazed into the fire, seemingly forgetting the boy who satby her side. Then she reached forward and placed the last stick on theslowly-dying embers. As it caught, and the flames leaped into the chimneyin response to the wind outside, she continued:

"The next summer was the last. I never knew just how it happened exactly;but some way, while making a new side drift in the tunnel, a blast wentoff prematurely, and he was caught in the falling rocks and crushed todeath. Uncle Joe wrote me the particulars--all that I ever had. 

"He was too badly mangled to be recognized, so even before I knew of theaccident his poor, broken body was laid to rest under the pines inEvergreen Cemetery. The tunnel was closed and locked, and your unclepacked father's few belongings in the little old trunk I gave you lastspring for your own and sent it home--all that I ever saw again of yourfather. 

"Then followed the terrible fever that nearly took my life. How I prayed, my boy, that I might die, so great was my sorrow and utter loneliness;but the Great Father saw fit to keep me here, and now I am thankful. Heneeded me to help you become a man. When I was so sick grandfathercame and brought us home, and here we have been ever since. "

"But, mother, have you never wanted to go to Colorado?"

"Yes, son, I've often thought I would be happier there, but father hasnever thought so. I've often promised Aunt Lucy we'd come. I'm afraid shewon't be long for this world, for she has a very serious tuberculartrouble. You must never mention it, son, but your grandfather never hadany use for Uncle Joe, and was very much opposed to Lucy's marrying him, so they slipped off and were married secretly. She has never felt likecoming home since--not even for a visit. Father gets very lonely for her, for she was the life of the old home. I would not be surprised, son, if Ishould be called to her bedside any time now, for she is very low. "

"Mother, if such a thing should happen, you'd take me with you, wouldn'tyou?" eagerly asked Willis. 

"Of course I would, my son. "

"And perhaps I could find father's tunnel. Say, mother, did you ever hearwhat became of that Tad Kieser after father's death?" he inquired. 

"No, son, I never heard. He wrote me one letter, expressing his sympathy, and in that letter I remember he said he had abandoned the tunnel becausehe was convinced that it was not a safe place to work, and probably itnever would have amounted to anything, anyway. "

"Do you suppose he is still prospecting somewhere in the mountains, mother?"

"I don't know, Willis. Probably not, for that was ten years ago, youknow. "

The remains of the last log dropped between the andirons and rolled over. Mrs. Thornton rose. 

"It's time we were in bed, son, long ago. " With that she gently bent, kissed him on the forehead, and slipped off to her own room, leaving himwith the dying fire. He sat still a long time, his eyes wide open and hisfists clenched. 

"If I only could, " he was saying. "If I only could. "

CHAPTER III

In Which Willis Is Honored

"You're always trying to get in a new fellow, Chuck. We never would havea new member if you didn't do your scouting around. You know more aboutthe fellows in this town than any half-dozen of the rest of us. How doyou get next to them?"

These remarks came from Robert Dennis, the splendid captain of the HighSchool Basket Ball Team. He had met a few of his companions at the YoungMen's Christian Association that evening. 

The Association was a very handsome, four-story brick that stood somedistance back from the street. Of all the places in the community foryoung fellows to "hang out" the Association was the most popular. At anyhour after school, until closing time in the evening, small groups offellows of every age might be found in the various departments, talkingathletics, planning an all-day hike into the mountains, discussing anamateur theatrical, a debating club, a Bible study supper, or some otherof the many activities carried on by these fellows with the Associationas a basis of operations and a partner. It appealed to the best fellowsin the school, and even in the entire community, for it had very early inits history made itself known as a clean, broad-minded, sympathetic, andconstructive agency in the lives of boys and young men. It appealed tothe fellows because they could have a hand in its operations and a voicein its government; because it stood for clean sport, clean bodies, cleanminds, healthy spirits, and a type of social life that had all theappearances of being powerfully masculine, and yet clean and gentlemanly. It stood for a three-sided manhood--spirit, mind, and body. 

Chuck seated himself. "No, Dennis, not always getting a new member, butI'll tell you one thing, I always do have an eye open for a first-classfellow for our bunch. You know as well as I do that if we are going tokeep things right, here in our old Y. M. , and give the 'Chief' the help heneeds, we'll have to keep adding every strong, clean, congenial fellow wecan lay our hands on. You don't need to worry about our getting too many. O. F. F. Has been doing stunts for two years now, and in that time we havejust taken in five new men. We have room for at least three more. I knowsometimes I make a mistake, but I'll bet my hat on this fellow. He's noordinary kid, I'll tell you that. I saw him in the swimming tank with hisuncle, Mr. Williams, yesterday, and a cleaner-cut, better-built fellowyou never saw. Swim like a fish, and dive--why, there's nothing to it. Ifhe takes a membership in this Department he'll be in the Leaders' Corpsin less than a jiffy, and, what's more, he'll be a leader in everythingelse, too, when he gets acquainted. "

"Well, I'll tell you, " said "Shorty" Wier, who had thus far kept silent, "Let's all look him over and get better acquainted with him Wednesdaynight on the hike. The 'Chief' told me he had invited him to go alongwith the bunch. "

"What's the bunch going to do on Wednesday night?" inquired "Sleepy"Smith, who was always preoccupied when anything of real importance wasgoing on. 

"Why, you ought to wake up occasionally and you wouldn't be so far behindthe times, " replied Chuck, rather dryly. "The class is going to SweetPotato Gulch for a business meeting and wiener-bake. Be sure to be onhand, every man of you. "

"O well, I don't like wieners, anyway, " replied Smith, and he returned tohis own thoughts. 

 * * * * *

Wednesday night was perfect--not a cloud in the sky, and a greathalf-moon to help them find their way. There was a spring breeze in theair, the kind that makes a great wood-fire of dry logs and pine needlesabout the most attractive thing on earth to a crowd of young savages. Faraway to the westward Pike's Peak's hoary head was lifted into the sky, dimly lighted by the yellow rays of the moon. There was a faint odor ofspring in the air, while the little mountain stream had not as yet givenup its icy prattle. Little patches of snow still dotted the sides of thecanyon, and here and there a crystal icicle sparkled from the end of apine bough. 

It was a night of wonders for Willis. He had never felt the "call of thewild" so strongly and irresistibly as on that night. Every mountain cragseemed to be calling him, and in his fancy he thought the fir treesreached their gently-waving branches, beckoning him to come into thedarkness and solitude. In spite of himself, his thoughts would wander tothe Michigan homeland. He wondered if the ice had broken on the lake yet, and if the blossoms had begun to come in the old orchard, and if hisgrandmother had filled the incubator. He felt queer with so manystrangers, yet not at all ill-at-ease, for he had lived a wholesome lifein the out-of-doors, and the meaning of fear was almost unknown to him. As the fire was lighted and the wieners set to bake on the end of long, green willow sticks, he began to enter more completely into the merrimentof the crowd. 

It was an exceptional group of older fellows--the clean fun and wholesomechat was above the ordinary, yet was spontaneous and real. The "Chief, "whose name was Allen, stood at one side of the fire with a note-book inhis hand, while the fellows were seated upon a dead log that had beendragged close to the fire. Allen was a young man of medium height, well-built, and clean-cut. His hair was black and his eyes were dark andvery bright. A merry smile played over his features. Every fellow in thegroup knew that that smile meant "good will toward men. " His hikingtrousers bagged about the tops of his high mountain boots, and hissweater bore the marks of many a camping trip. He always wore on suchoccasions as this an old felt hat, which had the initials of many astanch, good, out-of-door companion printed on it. There was the colorand vigor of health in his face, and his movements were swift andpowerful. He was a splendid specimen of a clean, unselfish college manwho loved God, His out-of-doors, and all his fellow-men. There was not aman in the community who had such an influence, or for whom the boys feltsuch profound respect, as Allen. He was a "square deal" personified. Manywere the personal differences of the fellows that were submitted to himfree-willed for arbitration. His Department was his kingdom, and thesefellows his stanch and loyal supporters. Where he led they followed, always knowing it was for some good purpose. Meanness, like a wolf in thenight, slunk away when he came upon it. Smut and slander knew they had nochance in his presence. To these fellows, and many more who knew him, hestood as a confidential friend and counselor, and was as a father to manya boy in the time of trouble. Many were the fathers who would have givena good deal to have held the place in their sons' estimations that Mr. Allen did. 

The trip that night did several things for Willis. It told him plainlythat he was going to be an ardent lover of the mountains and life inthem, just as he had dreamed and hoped he might. 

Several weeks later, when Willis came home one evening, he found hismother waiting for him at the door with an envelope in her hand. Willishad told his mother all about his trip to the "Gulch, " and had confessedto her how proud he would be to become a member of "O. F. F. " A warmfriendship had sprung up between Chuck and himself, and he was learningto be happy in the companionship of that crowd. He eagerly reached forthe envelope, and, opening it, read aloud:

"Next Friday evening 'O. F. F. ' will hold an outing meeting in WilliamsCanyon. We will first take you through Huccacode Cave, then we will havesupper on Pinion Crag. We will hold our meeting about the council fire, at which time we will be very pleased to extend to you the right hand offellowship, and make you a full-fledged member of 'O. F. F. '

"ROBT. DENNIS, President. "

"Isn't that great, mother! I'm really to be a member of the very bestBible group at the Association. It's a club, too, you know, and holdsevery member to a clean standard of life in work and play. Every Saturdaynight they meet at the Association for supper and a half-hour of Biblestudy. Mr. Allen is teacher, but they all do a lot of talking. O, it'sgreat! I'm tickled to death! I want you to know every one of thosefellows, mother. Sleepy is the poorest man--besides me, of course. Ican't say I like him so well. He's a little sneaky, I think. Chuck toldme they took him in because Mr. Allen wanted them to. The 'Chief' says hehas a pile of good in him, if we can just get it out. He has been awfullynice to me, though. He talks camera to me almost every time I see him. I showed him the pictures I made last spring of the thrush's nest, and hewas crazy over them. I'm going to teach him how to photograph flowers andbirds and nature. I'm glad I can do something that's worth while, or I'dfeel unhappy in that bunch. Sleepy has a wireless outfit and knows allabout electricity. Shorty Wier works in the Strang Garage. He is a sharkin school and a fiend at basket ball. He doesn't say much, but he is adandy. Chuck is interested in debates, and will represent the school inthe interscholastic contest next fall. He can talk about anything, andhas 'pep, ' I tell you. And Mr. Allen is a nature student. Gee! won't wehave a circus talking bugs and flowers and birds. Fat draws and doeslettering. O yes, and Ham--I mustn't leave out Ham--he is the Billikin ofthe crowd. When you feel down in the mouth or blue, just look at Ham andit makes you laugh. He likes everybody except the girls, and everybodylikes him. He knows more funny stories than all the rest put together. Ham's the one that always gets the fire ready to light and passes the'eats, ' he's--"

"Well, son, I think you are fortunate in being able to find suchcompanions, and in having such a place as the Association to spend yourleisure time. I think it is a great thing. I hope you will make themost of the opportunity. I have about decided we had better stay herethrough the winter, for I am very sure Aunt Lucy can not last untilspring. I feel so sorry for Uncle. "

 * * * * *

Friday came at last, and was one of those grand June evenings wheneverything seemed to be bursting with the love of life. The new greenleaves danced in the breeze, as if saying, "See, I'm back again!" Hereand there a fragrant fruit tree gave forth its odor from snowy blossoms, and innumerable spring insects flocked to the arc lights at the corners. 

It was a happy, healthy crowd of boys that boarded the street car forManitou. High-boots, sweaters, slouch hats, cameras, and a plentifulsupply of good food. From the hip-pockets of the trousers tallow candlesshowed, and one fellow carried a good supply of mason's cord, wound upona paddle. Then there was the coffee-pot, which was really an honorarymember of the club, and numerous packages done up in paper. 

The fellows loved Williams just at twilight, for it was then that thefantastic shapes and high pinnacles of white limestone made their bestimpression. The long, irregular shadows that were thrown across thecanyon by the setting sun, the cool pine-scented breeze that carriedevery sound down the narrow crevice, the echoing of every laugh andhalloo added much to the enjoyment and comradeship of the little group. Who could be unhappy or unfriendly on such a night and in such a place?

The road led on and up, winding back and forth zigzag fashion on thesouth wall, until it reached that wonderful cavern of fairyland, theGrand Caverns. Thousands of tourists annually come to see its wonders, but to the boys there were other caves more magic in their spell, forthey had not yet become "civilized, " as the fellows said, by beinglighted with electricity and "engraved" by human hands. 

As they passed through the Narrows they began to climb up the east wall, at a point where an immense pile of broken stone from the ledges abovehad collected. This is the doorway to Huccacode. The entrance to the caveis a mere crack in a mighty white wall that rises a hundred feet. 

Bundles and boxes were placed on a convenient ledge, candles lighted, andall made ready. The end of the string was fastened to a shoot ofsagebrush just outside the opening; and the group passed in, Shorty inthe lead with an electric flashlight, and Phil bringing up the rear, trailing the string. Far back in this wonderful cave there is a joiningof passages, and parties entering without a string have often becomelost, and have traveled several times around in a great circle beforefinding the lead out. 

The cave is a series of chambers connected by what appears to be anoverlapping of rooms. The voices of the boys sounded hollow and far away, while the candles cast long, grotesque shadows on the walls. As thecolumn advanced, the leader shouted back now and then to "watch out tothe left" or "to be careful to the right" or "to mind your footing. "As the trail led off on the side of the Bottomless Pit they halted, andthe usual ceremony was gone through. They twisted several newspaperstogether into a torch and, lighting them, dropped them into the pit. Theywatched as the torch went down and down and down, lighting the way for afleeting instant into the very depths of the earth; past ugly, jaggedrocks, past flat shelves of limestone, past straight, smooth walls ofrock till, at last, it burned itself out, still going down into the vast, mysterious crevice. 

"It's a strange sight, to be sure, " remarked Mr. Allen. "I have seen it agood many times now, and I have no trouble in believing the old Indianlegend about it. "

"I have never heard it, " said Willis. "Won't you tell it to us? Thiswould be such a good time. Let's put out all the lights except mine; I'llstick it here on this projection and we'll sit in the end of this bigroom while you talk. "

The crowd suited the action to the word. Mr. Allen pulled his hat fardown over his eyes, picked up several little white pebbles from theground and put them into his mouth to disguise his voice, then began:

"Eagle-Foot had been for many years the mighty medicine man of thegreat Ute Indians, who were probably the strongest and most warlike ofall the mountain tribes. Their home was in the Middle Park at the northbase of Pike's Peak, shut in from the other tribes in a fertile andabsolutely safe valley, which could be guarded by a few men at a certainpoint. Here in this mountain valley the Utes grew into a strong Indianstate. During the hunting season large parties of them would ride to theplains to hunt buffalo, returning after several weeks with immensesupplies of jerked meat, which is the choice steaks sun-cured, and with agoodly number of buffalo hides. Now, Eagle-Foot was a great doctor. Heknew all about the mountain herbs and the medicinal properties of certainmineral waters as well as of the ancient sweating of disease out of thebody by mud baths--a method used by the Indians of the South. He was sosuccessful that the Indians began to believe him infallible as a doctorand medicine man. 

"Well, one season, following a great buffalo hunt on the plains, astrange itching skin disease broke out among the hunters, causing a greatnumber of them to die. Eagle-Foot could not find a satisfactory remedy, although he tried many mixtures. At last they held long fasts, and prayedthe Great Spirit to remove the curse from them. But the next seasonit was worse than ever. The big Chief himself lost his favorite son, Megaleep, and Eagle-Foot began to lose his influence among the people. 

"Some thought the Great Spirit was punishing them for stealing thebuffalo from their brothers of the plains; others said that the EvilSpirit had come back from the great desert to haunt them with disease andfamine. Eagle-Foot remained silent and downcast, spending much time alonein the mountains fasting. One day as the warriors returned from theburying ground they found Eagle-Foot awaiting them at the camp, decked inhis full regalia, his face painted as if for a great occasion, all hisfeathers hanging from his belt. He told the chief that the Great Spirithad at last spoken to him, and that he was going on a long quest into thelimestone canyons. There the Great Spirit would reveal to him a cure forthe dread disease. He called for the swiftest runner to go with him. Huckween, the Night Voice, volunteered, and so they started, all thewarriors accompanying them to Sentinel Point, chanting prayers to theGreat Spirit. 

"Several days later Huckween returned to camp, haggard and weak andhungry, bearing the medicine wand of Eagle-Foot. He took it straight tothe Chief, and on bended knee told him the strange tale. How Eagle-Foothad left him in the morning at the entrance to a mighty cavern and toldhim to follow in at 'high sun. ' This he did, and when he reached thisspot, the Bottomless Pit, he found Eagle-Foot's sacred medicine wandstuck in the mud, his belt of sacred feathers fastened to the end of it, dangling down into the mouth of the pit. From the depths he heard strangesounds, but Eagle-Foot was gone. As he lay looking into the blackness, heseemed to realize suddenly that the wand was the promised cure, and thatEagle-Foot had given his own life in the Bottomless Pit that the sacredfeathers might become a saving potion for his people. It was the old ideaof a blood sacrifice. 

"Every season since that the great medicine man of the Utes came here toreceive the mystic cure, bringing with him Eagle-Foot's staff and belt. Long strips of cedar bark were bound together into a rope. This wassoaked in deer's grease, one end lighted, and dropped into the Pit, theother fastened to the staff, which was stuck into the ground near theedge. The spirit of Eagle-Foot thus returned, using the flaming bark ropeas a ladder, to bless the feathers of his brother, the medicine man ofthe Utes. "

"Do you suppose there are really bodies there at the bottom?" askedSleepy, as the candles were relighted and the group passed on into thedepths of the cave. 

"I wouldn't be surprised, " replied the Chief. 

Finally the first flight of rickety wooden steps was reached, and theboys descended, one at a time. Then came the "Fat man's misery, " wherethe ceiling of the cave almost met the floor, leaving only a smallopening. There was much laughing as Fat squeezed his body through. In the"Bridal Chamber" every fellow traced his initials on the white stone withhis smoking candle. Then came the "Auger Hole, " which is a round opening, not more than twenty inches in diameter and about fifteen feet long, through a solid wall of rock. About the middle of the passage there is asharp turn, and the remainder of the passage slopes down into the nextroom. Each one stretched himself out at full length, taking hold of theleg of the man in front of him. In this way they worked themselvesthrough, like a great serpent. 

A very peculiar sensation came to Willis, who was second in the line, ashe worked himself along the dark passage. "If the roof should cave injust a little, what a death!" He was busy with such thoughts when Chuck, who was just ahead of him, suddenly backed into him and whispered, "Look!" He looked ahead, and there, somewhere in the darkness he saw twosmall, yellow-green lights. Willis clutched Chuck by the arm andwhispered hoarsely, "It's an animal!" Word was passed from one to theother as they emerged from the Auger Hole that there was a wild-cat inthe Mud Room. 

Mr. Allen always carried a gun on these trips, unknown to the fellows. Ashe took in the situation he quietly drew the revolver from his pocket andtook a few steps forward. He began to think what the possible results ofshooting might be. He had often heard of mines caving in as the result ofa loud report, and of the vibrations from shouts closing the entrance tocaves. It would be unwise to shoot, but perhaps more unwise to go awayand leave the animal there. Some unarmed party might fall upon it. Manythings were suggested, many possibilities talked over; but there seemedto be some objection to all. The eyes seemed to go out now and then, andoccasionally there was a sad, low whine that made the cold chills run upand down each fellow's back. Sleepy had made sure of his safety byreturning through the Auger Hole. Mr. Allen made no reply to their manyinquiries--he seemed to have lost his power of speech. He stood withmuscles taut and gun ready. He despised indecision, yet--what should hedo? He thought of the mountain lion that had been killed on the carriageroad to the Peak the spring before. Could this be its mate? He tried tothink what the characteristics of a bob-cat were. He wondered if perhapsit had already attacked some one; perhaps killed him, and even now wasguarding the dead body--perhaps not dead yet. His arm twitched nervously. He was losing his self-control. There was absolute silence now except forthe whine of the beast. Did a lion whine? He could not think. 

They could not have told how long they stood there silent. PresentlyShorty Wier pushed himself to the head of the group and, without amoment's warning, flashed his electric spotlight and began advancingslowly toward the animal. Allen caught him by the sleeve and followed, gun in hand. The eyes seemed to dilate, and there was a low growl thatseemed to be a warning. In an instant it flashed into Allen's mind, "Amad dog!" A bobcat could not growl, and a lion did not sound like a dog. Shorty turned and looked Allen in the eye, "Don't be a fool. Put up yourgun and get out your pocket ax, " he said in a low, steady voice. Thenhe began talking in a coaxing tone. 

"There, dog, there, poor fellow, no one will hurt you, nice pup; what'sthe matter, dog. " His light he cast straight at the eyes. "Don't striketill I say, " he whispered to Mr. Allen. 

In a moment they were close enough to see that it was a dog, a Colliepup, wild-eyed and half-starved. Shorty stepped nearer and put his handout to pat the dog's head; but the animal only trembled and shrank back, then whined a pitiful whine. They could see now that the dog was fast ina steel trap, held securely by his hind leg. Shorty reached down andreleased the bruised and swollen leg from the trap, and as the dog felthimself free he gave a cry of relief. If ever a dog expressed hisgratitude in actions it was that pup. When they reached the mouth ofthe cave the dog collar was carefully examined, bringing to light thefact that the dog belonged to a Beverly H. Pembroke. Shorty would havethe reward. Their lunch boxes and coffee-pot were gathered up, and theclimb to the cliff began. The great moon was just lifting her yellow headabove a rift of clouds in the eastern sky. Soon the flat top of the cragwas reached, and in a moment a roaring fire was kindled. They had filledthe coffee-pot with water before leaving the stream in the canyon, and itwas now swung on a cross-pole over the fire. Each fellow put his share ofthe steak to fry by fastening it to the forked end of a stick and holdingit over the coals. The red-cedar sticks made an ideal cooking fire, andthe odor from the burning wood was enough to make any one hungry. The doglay upon Shorty's sweater, against the side of the cliff, and watched thebroiling meat with eager eyes. It is hardly necessary to say that hereceived a generous share of the meal. 

Mr. Allen stood with his back to the fire, looking off over the tops ofthe mountains and down into the moonlit spots of the canyon below, absorbing as much as he could of its beauty and inspiration. Far away tothe west was the same old peak that he had seen from every conceivableangle and he had learned to love so well. It was a scene like this thathe loved better than anything else in the world, and it was at such timesthat he almost wished that he was one of God's wild things living acare-free life, looking to Mother Earth and his own wits to care for allhis needs. 

Willis came around the fire and stood by his side, silently taking in thebeauties of the picture. Mr. Allen turned, and placing his arm on theboy's shoulder, said, "It's great, isn't it, boy? It takes a night likethis to make a man realize what the psalmist meant when he said, 'I willlift up mine eyes unto the hills whence cometh my help. ' Do you everthink of it when you look at these old mountains?"

After supper was finished the group gathered about the fire, and thebusiness meeting, for which the trip had been planned, began. More cedarsticks were piled upon the fire, while the fellows settled themselvescomfortably. 

"The meeting will please come to order. " Dennis had taken his place atthe head of the little company. "The secretary will please read theminutes of the last meeting. " Chuck jumped to his feet and made hisreport. 

"Any objections to these minutes? If not, they will stand approved asread. Mr. Allen, will you explain to Thornton what 'O. F. F. ' means andgive him the oath of membership?"

Mr. Allen stepped to the side of the fire. 

"Fellows, it is with an ever-increasing satisfaction that I meet with'O. F. F. , ' and I think it would not be out of place to-night to say justa few words that have been in my mind these last few days. I am proud tobe a member of such a club. I am proud to call every fellow gathered heremy brother. I am proud to have a voice in so clean and democratic agovernment. I am proud to be able to find my social amusement and socialfellowship in such ways as this club employs--in hiking and tramping inthe woods and learning Nature's secrets. We will not always be togetherin this most happy and congenial group. Fate will soon separate us. Somewill grow old; some will die before their time; some will perhaps be richin this world's goods; possibly some will experience poverty's sting. Yetnone of us, fellows, need ever want for real friendship; and, after all, it's that which makes life glad and beautiful for us, or sad and unhappyif we do not have it. I have often warned my memory never to lose thepicture of a single one of these simple meals, about the open firetogether, so that in days to come I may go back and refresh myself atthese springs of pure contentment. It's a beautiful thing in a fellow'slife to just be living for the welfare of others, as we are trying to do. I'm wishing one thing to-night for you all, and that is, that there maynever come a time in your busy lives when you will find it to your likingto follow any other standard than the one we have set for ourselves herein this little group. I am hoping that we will never find any type ofsocial fellowship any more attractive to us than this clean, wholesome, out-of-door life that we have learned to love so well. The time willcome, fellows--did you ever think of it?--the time must come when we willnot be able to gather at these fires and chat together of our mutualinterests and common woes. But I hope the time will never come when wecan forget the good things for which we stand, day by day, in our living. 

"Willis, stand up here by the fire. I want to say to you, my boy, thatwe are proud to have you as a brother and that we feel confident thatyou are a real addition to our number. We want you to be a real, livemember--to enter into the spirit of our organization. Our letters, O. F. F. , stand for a very simple slogan, one that has meant great thingsin the lives of every one of us fellows, and one that will mean greatthings to you if you take it into your life and let it work. It meansthat from this night on you will be more interested in the welfare ofothers than of yourself. O. F. F. --Other Fellow First. Give me your hand. Do you promise that you will live a clean life, physically, mentally, andmorally? Do you promise that you will forget your own interests inhelping others, that selfishness will have no place in your life? Do youpromise that you will not give your support for any reason to anythingthat to your mind is beneath the honor of a gentleman? If so, say, 'Ido. '"

Willis lifted his eyes to Mr. Allen's, and, with a pressure of his hand, he answered in a clear voice, "I do!"

"I take great pleasure, " continued Mr. Allen, "in welcoming you as abrother. "

The other fellows arose, and there was a general handshaking, followed bycries of "Speech!" "Speech!"

"All I have to say, fellows, is that I, too, am proud of every one of youand of everything for which you stand, and that I'll do my best to be aworthy member. Thank you for the honor you have shown me by asking me tobe one of you. "

They sat a long time that evening, talking and exchanging ideas, forthere was something nearly bewitching in the fire and the view and thefriendship. 

CHAPTER IV

Willis Becomes Interested in Gold Mines

The next four weeks passed by very slowly to Willis. Mr. Allen hadgone to the annual summer camp with a large number of the Associationboys. It was a State encampment, held in that very odd and interestingpart of the second range known as Cathedral Park. Willis had been veryanxious to go, for he knew it would be a very new and profitableexperience for him. Mr. Allen had asked him to go as a Leader, to havecharge of one tent of seven boys. He had never been to a camp of anykind, to say nothing of a mountain camp, so it was a great disappointmentto him when his mother had told him that he had better not go this time. His aunt had grown worse as the hot weather came on, and his motherexplained that she could not do without him in case his aunt should passaway. 

He understood perfectly and knew that his mother's request wasreasonable, so had contented himself by offering to help out at theAssociation in Mr. Allen's absence. He was anxious to give somethingin return for all Mr. Allen was giving him. Then, too, it gave him anopportunity to watch the development of a good many of the cocoons andchrysalides that the nature study club had placed in glasses in a windowof the reading room. 

He had been making sketches of the development of several butterflies. This kind of work he dearly loved. He would spend hours, sometimes, watching a delicate insect emerge from its cocoon and slowly dry itsdainty, crumpled wings until it was able to fly. 

One day he sat sketching an immense Ichneumon fly that had just emergedfrom a Tawny Admiral chrysalis. 

"You can't always tell, " he was saying to the little group that werewatching him. "Nature fools you sometimes. Mr. Caterpillar, who builtthat clean, cozy little house, and he was a fine, big, healthy fellow, too, expected to be somebody one of these days--a beautiful butterflylike the frontispiece of that nature book--but he got into bad companyand got 'stung. ' Now, instead of hatching a butterfly, out comes thisrobber fly, a long, lean, sleek-looking fellow that has been living forweeks on the body of that poor caterpillar, and we didn't know it. Youwant to watch out who you run with, fellows, or you're liable to turn out'Ichneumon men' instead of gentlemen. " He laughed as he returned theglass to the shelf and closed his sketch book. 

"What in the world!"

"Pots and kettles, frying pans, French toast, hot cakes, Chef's the man;We'll wash our hair and comb our face, Camp Tech--ump--sa, that's the place. "

The crowd made a break for the door, and in a moment more they wereinside, laughing and shouting. Five minutes later they might all havebeen found splashing around in the swimming-pool, making up for the lostswims of the past few days, their bodies brown as berries, and as healthyas free, camp-life in mountain air could make them. Mr. Allen shookWillis by the hand. 

"I never had a better time in my life; and such a gang of royal goodfellows! Willis, old man, I always want to be a boy if age takes suchreal pleasures away from man. I missed you, boy, every day, and neededyou so often. How's the aunt, and how's the Department? Say, Willis, while I take a little swim, will you 'phone to all the Cabinet membersand tell them it's Bruin Inn for supper on Saturday night?--a veryimportant meeting! Meet here at five o'clock. And say, I want you to goalong with us. I have decided to add an out-of-door committee to theCabinet, and I want you to represent that phase of the work, will you?"

Camp was the favorite topic of conversation on Saturday night as thelittle group of older fellows walked up the canyon road. Mr. Allen wastelling one group about some of the funny things fond mothers had sentto camp with their boys, while just behind another group were listeningto an exciting tale of how the only night-shirt in camp, together withthe Leader's razor-strop, were hung on the topmost branch of a greatspike-topped pine that stood just in the middle of the camp. 

So the talk ran on, from one thing to another. The stars twinkled incountless numbers above, giving just enough light so that they couldsee the mighty column of granite on either side, and to silhouette thegently-murmuring pines against the canyon wall. The air was chill andfaintly scented by the bursting wild-cherry blossoms that grew in greatprofusion along the stream. Here and there, in a moist crevice, aglow-worm shed forth its greenish-yellow glow, to let you know it wasnight time and summer. Far away in the distance Phantom Falls wastumbling and splashing over a great pile of drift logs. 

As the little company crossed the bridge and rounded a turn in the road, a campfire, built in a little sheltered nook back from the road, cameinto view. It cast long beams of light and grotesque shadows in everydirection, while the odor of cherry blossoms changed to the aroma of goodcoffee. 

"I hope Old Ben has as good a pot of coffee on the fire at the Inn, " saidone. 

Presently "Old Night Cap" loomed up against the sky. 

"This is as far as we could come a year or two ago, " said Mr. Allen toWillis. "Before the railroad and the inn were built we used to think itwas a long way even up here to the old mine. "

"Did I ever tell you about the old Negro that owned this mine? Well, hecame herein the early days and found a strange yellow outcropping here. He built himself a funny little shanty on the hillside, which he thatchedwith spruce boughs. Here he spent a good many years of his life, digging. His tunnel caved in soon after he left it, but he did find a little goldfor his work. When his provisions gave out, he would take his old mule, which was his only companion, tramp into the city, sell his little bag ofgold dust, and buy bacon, flour, and beans. After a little spree he wouldreturn to the mine, always sure that he would find the gold in largerquantities. Often I've stopped to talk with him as he brought awheelbarrow load of dirt out of the tunnel to the edge of the little olddump. 

"'Yep, I'se 'bout to fin' heaps an' heaps o' gol', ' he'd say as he pulledat his stubby gray whiskers. 'Marse Spruce-tree, yondah, he done tole meto jes' keep a diggin' an' I'd sho fin' gol'. When I 'se jes' 'bout togib up, an' I does sometimes, yes, sah, I does, ole Marse Spruce-tree hejes' stan' up yondah on de hillside an' laff an' say, "Why, Rufus, yuseis altogedder wufless. " Ole Brer Rabbit, he nod he haid an' 'spressheself same way. "Jes keep a diggin', Unc' Rufus, " he say, "Jes' keep adiggin'. " They sho is gol' in this yere ole world if ye jes' keeps adiggin'. '

"He'd sing all day as he worked, and never seemed to lose faith; but whenthe canyon road was extended, and the inn built, it took away the quietand solitude from the place. The old man just picked up his belongingsand went farther back into the mountains--no one knew where; butsomewhere, I suspect, he is still talking aloud to the trees and makingfriends with the wild things, still giving his life to digging up dreamsand living for hopes that will never be realized. It's a strange disease, this gold fever. I've never had it, but I've heard Old Ben at the Inntell how it's nearly impossible for a man to go back to his work in thecity after he has once seen the golden glitter and dug the preciousmetal from the earth. "

Willis had remained very quiet all through the story. A strange sadnessseemed to have settled upon his spirit. Several times Mr. Allen addressedhim, but upon receiving no reply turned and looked closely into the boy'sface. His head was thrown back, and he seemed to be lost in the beauty ofthe starry night. In a very quiet tone Mr. Allen said, "A penny for yourthoughts, boy. "

Willis laughed a dry little laugh, and, turning to him, replied:

"O, I was just thinking. I hardly know what, exactly. I was thinking ofhow that old darky's tunnel caved in. Do all tunnels cave in? I wasthinking of my father. " He linked his arm through the "Chief's" as theywalked on up the canyon. "My father was a miner, you know. That'show he lost his life. " Mr. Allen understood the mood now. 

"You must tell me more of him some time, Willis. Was he like you?"

"Not very much, but I'm going to be like him, if I can, " replied Willis. "Sometimes, since I've been here in Colorado, especially here in themountains, I've fancied that he was near me again, watching and guidingand keeping me company. It's hard for a fellow like me not to have afather. Mr. Allen, I don't believe the fellows who have them halfappreciate them, do you?"

A long, loud shout came from ahead, which was answered by a dog's bark. 

"O you supper!" shouted Chuck. 

"Ben, remember me, " cried another. 

The inn was a one-story log building, built of rough spruce trees, justas they had been cut from the mountain. On the side next to the streamwas a rustic porch. On the down-canyon end was built an immense old, stone fireplace. From the chimney top there was a procession of tinysparks making their way upwards from the roaring wood-fire within. Hereand there on the wall hung the hides of denizens of the woods. Behind thepine door stood an old-fashioned, double-barreled shotgun and a latermodel Winchester rifle. In the opposite corner stood two short-handledshovels and a miner's pick, while on the wall just above the fireplacehung the head of a great buck that had one time roamed those very hills. 

The fireplace, which occupied the center of the east wall, was largeand very attractive. An old hand-made crane had been built into thefirebox, and from it hung an old iron pot. The andirons were long, narrowslabs of granite, set on edge, upon which were piled logs of pine wood, burning merrily--not because it was a cold night, but because of itscheerfulness. 

The hearth at once became the center of attraction. It was the mysteriousfairy that bound all hearts together and welded all types of personalityinto a sympathetic friendship that gathered round it. It was the sternand fiery monarch, ordering all assembled to be quiet that it might singand moan and whisper the messages that it had gathered from the winterstorms or from the falling leaves. 

At one side of the old fireplace, leaning back in his rickety oldarm-chair, sat Ben, Old Ben the innkeeper, his long-stemmed cob pipeheld quietly in one hand, while the other rested on the head of a hugeRussian hound that lay on the floor in front of the fire. Ben's hair waslong and gray, and on his nose rested a pair of large, old--fashioned, silver--rimmed spectacles. His head was partly bald, and his small, grayeyes were set well back under shaggy eyebrows. His face was covered witha generous growth of dirty-gray whiskers, stained darkly about the mouthfrom his pipe. He was a typical old mountain prospector who had seenbetter days. 

As the boys entered Old Ben rose, stretched his large, gaunt frame, andcried, "Howdy, fellers, must o' started day afore yestedy, didn't ye?Took ye tarnal long to git here, anyhow. Supper's ben ready these twohours. Me'n the critter 'n Tad is most starved a waitin'. Hello, Mr. Allen, where'd ye git this lively bunch o' fellers, anyhow? D' they allb'long to ye? Come along, Tad, er these dratted youngsters 'll eat allyer grub fer ye. " This as the fellows seated themselves about the table. 

Tad, by the aid of a crutch, hobbled from the lean-to kitchen andtook his seat at the table nearest the fire. Old Ben served themeal--beefsteak, baked potatoes, hot corn muffins, and gravy, applesauce, pickles, and coffee that fairly filled the room with itsfragrance. 

"Drat me for a young squirrel if you fellers ain't the hungriest bunch o'yearlin's I ever set eyes on, " muttered Ben as he hurried back and forthfrom table to kitchen supplying the urgent demand. 

After the last drop of coffee had disappeared, the meeting was called toorder around the table and the business of the evening was gotten underway. Willis, for the first time, found it difficult to pay attention towhat Allen had to say. He was watching Old Ben and his friend as they satby the fire, chatting and smoking, the very picture of contentment. Nowand then a little of their conversation would reach him, but he could notmake head nor tail of it. At the supper table the man with the crutch hadeyed Willis many times. In his manner there was something that seemed tobe so very familiar, yet his face, which was covered with a severalweeks' beard, was strange to Willis. 

"I never saw a face so like my old pard's, " the stranger was saying toBen. "And you know, Ben, I often wonder if some day I won't hearsomething from Bill's family. There was a wee boy, but what others, ifany, I don't know. The day of the wreck I saw a lad that did a bravedeed, and ever since I've been wondering if he might be Bill's boy--helooked so like him. "

"Tad, what became of that tarnal critter, Williams, that ye told meabout? The feller that jumped that placer claim up'n the gulch--do youever see him any more?"

"Yes, Ben, he is still in the city. Has a mighty sick wife--tuberculosis, they say. He's crookeder than a cork-screw, they tell me; but he'll getcaught yet, that kind always does. You know his wife is a sister toBill's wife. If it hadn't been for that relationship to Bill, I'd havehad it out with him long ago. But what's the use, anyway. The mine's nogood and the ground's no good, and I haven't any money to fight him. "

"Yep, but s'posin' the tunnel was good; what then?"

"I don't know, Ben. Old Williams has a good name, generally speaking, inthe city, and he has money--I couldn't fight him. Dad Wright used to sayhe was a 'snake in the grass, ' and Dad doesn't often misjudge a man. "

"Who holds the key to that tarnal hole, anyway, Tad?"

"Williams was the last man in the tunnel, Ben, and I suppose he holds thekeys. I've never been inside since I carried out poor Bill's brokenbody. "

"Well, Tad, I was a pesterin' around there not long ago, an' I seed wharsome tarnal critter hed tried to pry the lock off. You know, Tad, Ib'lieve they is pay rock in that gulch, if the likes o' you an' me couldjist light onto it. Ye can pan color anywhere around the shanty, if yeknow how. I picked up some o' that quartz formation by the dump, an' dratit, Tad, it's fine lookin' stuff. "

"Yes, Ben, I often think I'll go back and work a little longer on the oldhole. Bill was certain we had struck it--talked in his fever before hedied. But I haven't got the nerve. 

"Ben, I'm going to tell you something. Just before Bill met his end, hehad a letter from the firm that he installed machinery for concerning thefinal drawings of an ore-roaster that he had been working on for years. Ihave often wondered if he sent those drawings to the firm before hisdeath, or if Williams got them and the letters. I've never seen a roasterlike his was to be. Some way, I've thought Williams sold those drawings. If he did, Ben, I'd kill him, I believe. That's what makes me keep athinking of the boy. Those drawings would have brought enough then tohave educated him, and perhaps he's poor--poor like you and me, and can'tgo to school, while that rascal, Williams, rides around in an automobile. Some way, I feel like I'll find out, and then I'll--"

"Is that a fact! Well, that tarnal critter!" Ben puffed meditatively athis pipe and gazed into the fire. 

"I have decided to go back, Ben, and work the other claim up in the gulchby Dad's. If I could get enough money ahead I'd get a detective and puthim on the case. I'm kind of a father to that boy, Ben, wherever he is, and I ought to be finding him. "

The meeting at the table was over, and the fellows crowded around thefire before starting home, and, perhaps, to hear one of Ben's stories ofthe early days. The stranger watched Willis closely for some minutes, then he called to him. 

"Lad, ain't you the boy that was in the wreck of the Rocky MountainLimited, early in the spring? I've been watching you, and you sure remindme of him. " Willis's face brightened. In a flash he recognized thefireman. He advanced with extended hand. 

"Why, yes, sir, I am the boy, and you are the fireman. I have beenlooking at you all evening and wondering where I had ever seen youbefore. It's the whiskers that threw me off. How is the broken leg?"

The stranger held the boy's hand in his own and looked into his face. 

"We got out lucky, didn't we, lad? Have you ever seen the littleEnglishman since that day? He was a dandy, wasn't he?"

Chuck had been listening to the foregoing conversation. 

"What wreck? What Englishman? Who is your friend?" he questioned. 

The stranger spoke. "Why, don't you know about the wreck? Has he nevertold any of you?" In answer to a chorus of "No's, " the stranger drew hischair closer to the fire and began to tell the story. 

"So the lad has never told you, eh? He is a splendid fellow, this lad. Iwant to tell you boys there is no yellow in his system. He has cool, truenerve, like my old friend, that never thought of himself if there wastrouble, always of the other folks that might suffer. That's the reasonhe slid off this mortal globe so soon. The lad here came near doing thesame thing. Then he never told you about it. Well, well. "

"I'll see you again, " called the stranger as Willis passed out into thenight. 

CHAPTER V

A Plan Is Evolved

"Well, by the Great Horn Spoon, you are the laziest bunch of fellows I'veseen in many a long day. What's all this scheming and planning aboutthat's going on here? Are one of you fellows trying to get a Presidentialnomination?" Ham seated himself on a chair facing the fellows. They werelounging on a big window-seat in a corner of the game-room, talkingearnestly in low tones. 

"Come, now, let's hear about it. What's the game? Say, fellows, I justheard a rattling good story. " "Well, now, Ham, let up on your stories forabout two shakes and give us your attention. We have an idea, a real, first-class scheme, if you please, and we want you to give us your expertopinion on it, " said Shorty Wier, as he went and closed the door. 

"All aboard; let her go! What do you want me to do? When are you going todo it? Hurry, I'm getting awfully excited. "

"Well, " continued Shorty, "Fat originated this idea, or at least hesuggested it, and we have just been talking it over. How fine it would beif we owned a cabin, a good-sized log cabin, big enough to take care ofat least twenty fellows over night. A place far enough from the city tokeep it from being continually broken into by rowdies, and still within acouple of hours' walking distance from the car-line. With all of thisgreat string of mountains and canyons, so well-forested and filled withstreams, it ought to be an easy matter to find some such a place. Ofcourse it would be ideal if we could find a cabin already built; then allwe would have to do would be to rig it up. But we are game sports, everyman of us, and if we can't find any such cabin built, let's locate anideal spot and build one. Nothing real fancy or expensive, but just atypical mountain house that's weather-tight and warm. Of course we'd wanta big fireplace like the one at Bruin Inn. It would be a great big job, but we could take our time to it. We'd have all winter, and more, if weneeded it. Now, what we want is your suggestion, understand; we are justtalking and planning about it yet. "

"Gee, it would be an awful pile of work, " complained Sleepy Smith, and heyawned and stretched himself. "Work! of course it would be work, you dub;but what do you ever get in this world that's worth while without realwork, I'd like to know. "

"Work! that's the best part of it; nothing in the world could bind usfellows together so tight as to do a big piece of real work together. Wewould show each other what we're made of. I always have wanted to build acabin in the mountains. It would be a great deal better to build one thanto get an old, tumbled-down shack. Besides, we don't want to work out astunt that's just going to last for a year or two, and then be abandoned. We want to build a real, permanent mountain camp. See?" added Chuck. 

"What's the matter with the old Y. M. Cabin up in Bear Creek, Shorty?"

"O rats, boys, we are not talking about a pill box now. We want a cabin. "

"I think it would be a great thing to do, fellows; but we must go awfullycareful. We'll have to finance the thing some other way than from our ownpockets, and we don't know yet what Mr. Allen will say about it. He maythink it's a big mistake and a waste of time and energy. Then, too, wherewould we camp while working on the new cabin?" said Willis. Then heslipped off to talk the plan over with Mr. Allen, and in a few momentsbrought the "Chief" back with him. Willis was talking. 

"Now we are on the right track for sure, fellows. Mr. Allen has theproper suggestions about this matter. No telling what fool stunts wefellows would do if we didn't have Mr. Allen to keep our feet on theearth. "

"Listen, fellows, " said Shorty. "We have talked this thing all over fromA to Z, and we believe Mr. Allen's advice is the thing; only before wedecide to do anything definite we ought to have Mr. Dean's opinion. Hehas been in the army, you know. "

"Mr. Dean, the physical director, been in the army? Why, I didn't knowthat, " said Sleepy. 

"Yes, and he's a mighty practical fellow. Fat, go out to his office andask him to come in here a few minutes, will you?"

In a moment they came in together, Fat explaining their plans for acabin. When every one was seated, Shorty continued:

"This is a very serious matter, fellows, and we don't want to make amistake by being in too big a hurry. There are a few things that seemvery clear after talking with Mr. Allen--

"First, we must make our cabin stunt an Association enterprise, so we canhave their help and backing. Let's make it a high school boys'enterprise. Next, we must find an ideal place, where the work will haveall the natural advantages possible--not too far away, not too close, near good water and a good supply of dead wood. It would be best to getsomewhere on the old Cripple Creek Stage Road. Mr. Allen has suggestedthat we might help finance it in two ways: Organize a cabin company andsell stock at so much a share, all stockholders being privileged to usethe shack, or we might give a circus in the gymnasium and use the moneythus earned. He thinks the latter the better plan. The greatest troubleseems to be to find the ideal place. Mr. Dean, what do you think of thewhole plan?"

"It's a capital idea, fellows; only it means real business. If you tacklea job like that, you want to finish it. I'd sure be in with you on anysuch a deal. Here's a suggestion. Why don't six or seven of you fellowstake a week just before school opens, pack your grub and blankets, takea gun or two and a good camera, and make a trip on foot, looking over thepossible locations? For instance--start up the old Stage Road, go as faras Daddy Wright's, then to the top of Cheyenne Mountain through thatvalley. There is a beautiful park there that might be suitable; then downRock Creek, up around Black Mountain, back around St. Peter's Dome, thenstudy the canyons along the railroad. They say there is a good cabinsomewhere near Daniel's Pass, and several around Fairview. Get into allof those canyons that run into North Cheyenne, because that would be thehandiest location for us to get to. It would be great if we could find anold prospector's cabin that we could remodel and add to. You see, we'dhave a place to camp as we worked that way. Then, too, it would have thisdecided advantage--it would be a staked claim and not the open forestreserve. You would have to pay for all lumber you cut on the reserve, buton a claim you are entitled to a certain amount for building purposes. You see, we could probably show mineral anywhere near a prospector'scabin. I am convinced there are many such cabins that would be almostideal, if we could only find them. "

"My father built a cabin in these mountains years ago, " said Willis. "Aminer's cabin; but I've never seen it. I don't know where it is, but it'snear Cookstove Mountain. Some one has jumped the claim, though, now, somother said. "

"Wouldn't it be funny, Willis, if we should find that old cabin of yourfather's?" asked Mr. Allen. Ideas came thick and fast. Even "Sleepy"Smith woke up to the fact that something unusual was going on, and rousedhimself so as not to miss it. After an hour's planning and discussionthey decided what to do. A route was to be laid out and an investigationtrip made under the direction of Mr. Allen. The party was to be limitedto six fellows: Ham, Phil, Fat, Chuck, and Willis were the ones chosen togo. Definite plans were laid out, and the following Tuesday set as theday for starting. 

As Willis was explaining the plans to his mother the next morning hisUncle Joe came into the room. He had seen an article in the morning paperto the effect that the Y. M. C. A. Boys were to build a cabin, including thenames and the probable route to be taken by the investigating party. 

"What's all this nonsense about a cabin in the mountains, Willis? I sawan article in the _Gazette_ this morning concerning it. Now listen to me, boy. I don't want any relation of mine getting mixed up in any such acrazy, wild-goose chase. Do you hear? About the first thing you kids willdo is to trespass on some one's mining claims, and then you'll be gettingyourselves and some of the rest of us into trouble. It's a lot of foolishnonsense, such doings, anyway. Isn't home good enough for you?"

"Well, it seems to me you're kind of mad about nothing, Uncle. We're notgoing to carry off any one's gold mines, " replied Willis. "Have you a fewyou are afraid we will steal?"

Mr. Williams flew into a fit of anger, saying something about, "If he wasmine, I'll bet I'd see if he'd insult his superiors in that way. The nextthing we know you will be off on a mountain picnic on Sunday, bringingdisgrace on your respectable relatives, " snapped Mr. Williams. "There areenough enemies now to a man's good name, without adding any more byfoolish kids like you, with heads full of nonsense. "

Mr. Williams stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the door behindhim. 

"Of all the strange men on earth, I think he is the strangest of themall, " remarked Mrs. Thornton. "Something has upset him, and he has anugly streak to-day. I heard him at the telephone, storming about some oldprospector that has come back to the city to make life miserable for him. He had seen him on the street, talking with a man he said was adetective. Lucy told me just the other day that Uncle Joe took awfulchances on mining stock very often, and that she believed he would sellhis very soul for a gold mine. It seems so strange--he has been angry atme every time I have let you go into the mountains. He works hard, and Isuppose he thinks you ought to be doing something, too, and if we stayhere through the winter, my boy, I think it would be well for you to lookabout for something to do after school. "

As Willis left the house the next morning and started for the Associationto complete plans for the trip, he met two men coming in at his frontgate. They asked for Mr. Williams. Willis directed them, then hurried on, rejoicing in his heart that he was to have a real gipsy trip in themountains with his gang. 

He spent the day getting his things together for the trip. He was tocarry a small individual frying pan, a small granite bucket, knife, fork, and spoon, eight small cans of condensed milk, a little cloth sack oftea, one of sugar, one of oatmeal, and one of rice, two boxes of raisins, a loaf of rye bread, and butter packed in a small tin can with a cover. He was to wrap these things, and whatever else he wanted to take along, including a first-aid packet, in his blanket, army style. His pack mustnot exceed twenty pounds in weight, not counting gun or camera. Histincup was to be fastened to his belt, and his safety ax carried in hiship-pocket. They would sleep on spruce boughs at night, and each manwould cook his own meals from his own store. The mountain raspberrieswere just ripe, and there were great quantities of them. They would havethem with cream, and count on killing a few squirrels now and then, orperhaps some turtle doves for a change. Mr. Allen took a trout lineand a few flies, in case they had a chance to have mountain trout tobreak the monotony of the diet. 

By Monday evening all was in readiness for the start. The news of theproposed cabin scheme had spread all through the Department, and manywere the suggestions offered by interested fellows for making the trip anentire success in every way. 

"Remember, shelter and drainage and wood supply, along with good waterand big trees, are what you are looking for, boys, " was the advice of Mr. Dean, as he left them. "I wish I were going along with you. Here's hopingyou'll find the very best spot, and that soon. "

CHAPTER VI

A Stage Road Journey

"Well, if you haven't any more brains than to be starting out on amountain trip on a wet, stormy day like this, why I haven't anything moreto say to you; but remember, I'm not one whit responsible for you, " saidMr. Williams, as he arose from the breakfast table and passed out intothe hall. 

It had been a stormy night. The rainfall had been heavy and the lightningsharp. It had been a typical electric storm of the mountains. Old Sol hadtried in vain to force his way through the heavy rain-clouds earlier inthe morning, but by breakfast time he seemed to have given up entirely, and to have withdrawn from the contest. At any rate, he was nowhere tobe seen. Willis was visibly disappointed. He pushed his chair backrestlessly and went to the window. The heavy, black clouds hung low onthe ridge, and Pike's Peak was entirely hidden in the mists. Willis wasthinking of the conversation he had had with his uncle that morning atthe breakfast table. 

"Mother, " he turned to Mrs. Thornton, who was still seated at thebreakfast table, "why is Uncle Joe so positive about it being a mistakefor me to take this trip? Either he just wants to show his authority orhe has some special reason. According to his talk, there isn't a moredangerous place on this earth of ours than around an old prospector'scabin. Rats! I don't believe a word of it. It's all bosh and, as far ascabins go, how could disease live in an old, open mountain shanty?Anyhow, you might go for weeks in the mountains without even seeing acabin. He thinks I'm a child and haven't any judgment of my own. My! I'mglad he isn't my father. He's just a blamed old hypocrite, that's what Ithink about him, anyway. "

"Well, you won't be going if it stays so stormy, will you?" asked hismother. 

"No, but it's going to clear up, mother; this is just a little summershower--we weren't counting on starting until after dinner, though, anyway, " replied Willis. Toward noon the clouds broke and melted away asif by magic. Their lifting was like the raising of some majestic curtainon a wonderful stage. The moisture from the recent storm still glistenedon every twig and leaf, and the fresh-bathed air was as clear as crystal. The summit of Pike's Peak was decked in a new covering of snow whichsparkled like beautiful gems. The robins chirped gayly as they fed on theworms that had come to the surface during the night's rain. 

Was there ever such a happy crowd of fellows' setting forth on anyexpedition? High boots, slouch hats, soft shirts, a rifle, a shotgun, two cameras, and a plenteous supply of food. Each fellow was equippedwith a haversack, in which were his eating tools and other necessaryarticles, such as bachelor buttons, cartridges, films, and other things. They carried their frying-pans, small buckets, and tincups suspendedfrom their belts. The handles of their safety axes extended fromhip-pockets, making their pockets bulge suspiciously. 

Mr. Allen took the lead through Stratton Park, and headed for the shortcut that joined the old Stage Road just as it sneaked around the base ofCheyenne Mountain on its way to the top of the Continental Divide; thendownward through mountain passes and clinging close to canyon walls untilit reached that most wonderful of all gold camps, the Cripple CreekDistrict. 

"It's just two o'clock, " said Chuck, in answer to an inquiry as to thetime. "And we will have to do some rapid walking if we are to get on topof Cheyenne Mountain to-night. We ought to make three miles an hour fromhere to the old road house. We'll have to rest there a little and have adrink from Daddy Wright's spring. That's the best spring in the RockyMountains, I do believe. "

"Hope Dad's home to-day, " said Mr. Allen. "I haven't seen him since earlyspring. I certainly do enjoy getting the old gentleman to telling some ofhis stories. You know he is an old, old timer in these parts. He camehere years before gold was first discovered in Cripple Creek, and he haslived up in his little gulch ever since. In the early days, when the onlyoutside connection the gold camp had was this old wagon road, there werea great many interesting happenings at Dad's little inn. It was reallythe only road house on the Stage Road, and was burned down years ago. Haven't you ever heard that story? I'll tell it to you some time. Theyused to say that Dad had any quantity of money--I don't know how true itwas. At any rate, he hasn't much now. After the old inn burned, he builthimself a log cabin down by the spring, and there has lived ever since. He can tell some great old tales, too. You can't name a single prospectorof the Rocky Mountain region but what Dad can tell you all about him. Helives a lonely life up here all by himself, shut in all winter by heavysnows. In the summer he sees a few people passing by, and that helpssome. He's a very friendly old man, and if you treat him right thereisn't anything in the world he won't tell you or do for you if he can. Heloves to talk politics, and can tell you about every Presidentialelection back as far as the war. He was a Confederate soldier in his day, and if there is one thing above another that he loves to talk about, it's the 'Gov'ment, ' as he calls it. 'Uncle Sammy an' me ain't jestzackly the best o' pards yit, by crackey, ' he says, with a twinkle in hiseye. "

"That certainly is a great view, " explained Ham. "I'm going to unload mycargo and rest here a bit, for I like this spot. Right up yonder in thatheavy belt of timber is where we used to come so often to stay all night. There is a great granite boulder up there in the 'Graveyard, ' as we usedto call it, that's just as good as a house any day. It leans away out onone side, and we built a big bed of balsam boughs under it. Right behindthe great rock, to the west, we found a tiny spring, hardly big enough tobe called a spring; but we dug it out and stoned up a small reservoir tocatch the water. We used to come up in the evening, cook our supper, getour beds ready for the night, then climb on the big rock and watch thelights of the city come on. When they were all lighted it looked like abig, illuminated checker board out there on the plain. We'd get up earlyin the morning, then, and climb to the Devil's Horn to see the sunrise. My! but it's a gorgeous sight on a cloudy morning. The last time we werethere we sure did have a mighty queer experience--"

"Come on, fellows, let's travel along, or we'll not get anywhereto-night. Ham, you can tell us your story while we are walking. We've gotto reach Dad's by four o'clock, or we'll never get to the Park by night, "said Phil, as he arose and adjusted his blanket roll preparatory tostarting. 

"Go on, Ham, " urged Fat, who was always ready for a story, especially amountain story. "Let's have that tale of yours. I expect we'll need alittle salt with it won't we?"

"There isn't much to it, after all, when you tell it, for it was thenight and the surroundings that made it so impressive. We had justfinished supper and were all sitting up on the big rock looking outover the lighted city. As we sat there, every now and then we would hearthe strangest sound. It came from the timber away up behind the camp. Atfirst it sounded like a human voice--a kind of a long, sad sob. The nightwas as dark as pitch, and as we sat listening the cold shivers began torun up and down our backs. Sometimes the sound seemed to be answered fromfar out in the dark valley. We speculated a good deal as to what it couldbe, for it was such a sad, wailing call. Then suddenly way down thevalley a light appeared, not a large one, just a tiny, flickering, ever-moving light. It seemed to me to be in the air just over the centerof the canyon, but the rest declared it was on the road below us. Thenthe sad call came again and again. It seemed to be nearer this time. Thencame a far-away, dull, muffled sound, such as a horse would make on stonyroad. The light came directly toward us, now, up the canyon. It resembleda lantern being swung by some one, as if to give signals. We sat andwatched it for a long time, everybody talking in low whispers; and manywere the opinions as to what it really was. No one noticed just when, but some time, without a second's notice, the light disappeared. We heardthe faraway sound of rolling stones, then all was quiet for a long time. Two of us sat and listened far into the night. Several times we heardthat long, sad wail--a sort of hoo-oo-oo. A night breeze had risen, andyou fellows know how the wind moans in these pines. It was a mightylonesome night--just sitting there with your every nerve alert and aswide-awake as you could ever get, just listening and watching. As soon asit was light enough to see, we started for the summit of Cheyenne, upthrough that mountain of granite boulders and mighty crags. I think wewere about half-way up, when some one noticed an immense black bird, swinging in great circles, high in the air. Soon we smelled smoke, sohurried on. The first long rays of light began to streak the sky, and weknew we would have to hustle if we reached the summit by sunrise. Thecrowd was pretty well strung out down the side of the mountain. Kellerand I were in the lead. The smell of smoke grew stronger and stronger. The air was heavy that morning, and so forced the smoke down to us, fromsomewhere on the summit. At last we came to a little plot of groundsurrounded on three sides with great rocks. From this pit-like nook thesmoke was slowly rising into the morning air. We climbed one side of thegreat crags, then cautiously peered over. I was pretty excited, for I wasthinking just then of the awful tragedy that had occurred on Mount Cutlerthe year before. What if we should find a dead man? Well, what do yousuppose we did find? I was dumbfounded. There below us were the dyingembers of a log-fire. The flames had long since died, and now it wasjust smoldering and smoking. On either side of the fire lay a man, well-wrapped in his blanket. A gun that for some reason looked veryfamiliar to me was leaning against the rock near their heads. We couldnot see their faces from where we were, but like a flash I rememberedthe gun by the leather-covered stock. The two men were Old Ben and ayoung fellow who often went with him into the mountains. I never shallforget how they looked when we waked them by dropping small pebbles fromabove. As soon as they would stir a little, we would drop back out ofsight and listen. At last the young fellow muttered something and reachedfor his gun. Then Old Ben awoke, sat up, and asked what was the trouble. 

"'I'd bet a dollar that rock just dropped on me from above. ' Then heturned his head and looked up into the sky. 'Great Scott, man, what aplace to sleep! A stone might have tumbled on us any minute. ' Then hescrambled to his feet and cried out, 'Man alive! take a look at thateagle; what an immense bird!' We boys had forgotten the eagle on findingthe men, but we, too, looked upward, and there, not more than a hundredfeet in the air, directly over us, was the biggest bird I ever hope tosee. He seemed to be fixed, motionless, in the air, with wingsoutstretched. Just then some of the rest of the boys came shouting up towhere we were. Ben heard them and shouted back. In a few minutes we wereall up on the rocks watching the bird. Ben wanted to shoot, but the otherman wouldn't let him, for he declared he was going to find the nest. Itmust have been the smoke from the fire that first attracted the bird, for it seemed to keep circling directly above the column of smoke. Tothis day we never told who dropped the stones--I suppose they think theeagle did it. 

"Well, as we sat there watching the eagle, the sun came up. There neverwas such a sunrise before, I don't believe. There was a layer of fluffy, fuzzy clouds, stretched out over the city as far as we could see. Thenthe sun came slowly up--a great crimson ball of fire, the long, yellowrays lighting up that sea of clouds and the pale-blue sky above, untilthe scene looked like a great, boiling pot of gold. Then, far above us, that immense black bird, wings still outstretched, just winging itselfround and round in great, even circles. I've seen many a choice bit ofmountain scenery, and many a sunrise and sunset, but never one just likethat. It isn't at all strange to me why the savages were natureworshipers. How could they help it?

"As we sat watching the ever-changing panorama of colored clouds, therecame to our ears, faintly but surely, that same sad call of the nightbefore. The great eagle paused a moment in his circling--then my heartcame into my mouth, for as we watched he folded his great wings, tippedhis head forward, and began to drop. I held my breath. Down, down hecame. I thought he must surely be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Hewas falling directly toward the great dead spruce, and it seemed thatnothing could save him from being torn to pieces. As suddenly as he hadbegun to drop he spread his mighty black wings and swooped down to thevery tree we thought must be his death. He perched for a second on adead limb, then flew into a Douglas spruce, emerging in a second withsomething in his talons. As he began to rise again, in long, spiralflights, we heard the cry of distress from the unfortunate bird in hisclaws. It was the same cry that we had heard in the night. "

"What was the light in the night? Did you ever find out?" ventured Phil. 

"O yes, I forgot to tell you. It was Daddy Wright on horseback, swinginga lantern. He had been to the city, and was returning home. He passed Benand his friend and nearly frightened them to death. He was singing as hecame up the road, and was keeping time to his song with the lightedlantern. "

"Twenty-five minutes to reach Dad's! Come, you fellows--loosen up yourjoints. The climb up the gulch to the Park is a real one, and there isn'ta place in the canyon to camp, " called Mr. Allen, as he started forwardat a more rapid gait. 

When they reached the farthest point of the big Horseshoe Bend, theystopped to rest a moment before starting up the last long incline toDaddy Wright's. 

"Isn't it really wonderful when you think of the obstacles men haveovercome just to accomplish their desired ends?" asked Mr. Allen as hestood gazing out over the mountains. "Men have risked their very livesjust for the privilege of climbing into these old hills to look for gold. Many were the narrow escapes from death by starvation or wild beaststhat these hills could tell of if they could speak. Did you ever stop tothink that if it hadn't been for the gold that God hid away here in thisContinental Divide, that perhaps the men in the old Eastern colonieswould never have crossed over and taken possession of the wonderfulWestland. It was the gold that was hidden under the snow and ice ofAlaska that beckoned men northward. This has always been true. Theprospectors of the Nation have always been its best explorers--certainlythey were its real frontiersmen. They led and civilization followed. Think of the thousands of people who endured hardships of which we cannot even imagine just to follow westward that trail, blazed by suchsturdy old men as Dad Wright and others like him. I've heard Dad tellmany a time of that caravan of forty-niners, all their earthlypossessions packed in one of those old prairie schooners, drawn by slow, patient oxen. I've heard him tell of the time gold was discovered inCripple Creek. Cripple Creek was just a part of the great wilderness, andwas only accessible by a series of uncertain trails. Yes, gold is aprecious metal, to be sure; but it is magical, too, for no sooner is itdiscovered than a wave of industry is created. Upon a bleak and barrenspot a city is built in a week--a miracle of human energy. The MidlandRailroad kept great gangs of men working day and night, in order toconnect that great gold field with the outer world. Before long there wasa tremendous demand for a common wagon road 'to civilization, ' as theyput it; and this very road that we are walking on came into being--anoutlet, if you please--for some of that wonderful, teeming, bubbling lifeand industry created by the mere discovery of gold. 

"Soon this very road became the most important highway in the State. Great wagon loads of food and tools went up, and bags of precious orecame back. Stores were opened, schools were built, churches erected, and homes founded. Civilization had found another desolate mountainwilderness, and with her magic wand added it to her ever-wideningdomain--all because some one had discovered gold. 

"Then came the first stage-coach. Daddy has often told me all about it. Agreat, cumbersome affair, rolling and pitching on its leathers as it camelunging and bumping along the rough, stony, mountain road. The driver wasseated high above the dashboard, nearly buried in boxes, bags, andbundles, while the baggage till behind resembled a railroad truck piledhigh with every kind and description of trunks. As it came to a suddenstop in front of the little postoffice, its great, swinging side-doorsopened and the passengers scrambled out, each one handingthe jovial and loquacious driver a five-dollar note. 

"Soon it took four stages to satisfy the demand, one going each way nightand morning. It was at this stage of the game that Daddy built the famousRoad House. Here the horses were relayed, and here the passengers steppedout to stretch their cramped limbs or, perhaps, to drink at Dad's spring. Sometimes, on stormy nights, both stages, the one going up and the onecoming down, would be tied up for the night at Dad's. Then such times asthere would be in that old log house! Prospectors from every gold camp onearth, promoters and mining brokers, surveyors and engineers, old-timersand tenderfeet--all brought together by one single impulse--the craze forgold. 

"Many were the mining claims that passed over the poker table there; manywere the conspiracies that were talked over and determined upon. Manywere the stories of the old Sante Fe trail and of the Pony Express, orperhaps strange tales of Kit Carson as he roamed the great Westlandfrom Texas to Wyoming, trapping for fur and killing every treacherousIndian that crossed his trail. You know Old Ben at Bruin Inn was for manyyears a stage driver for Dad on this very road, and he is chuck full ofstories. "

"When are you going to tell us the story of the burning of the RoadHouse?" interrupted Ham. 

"Well, " replied Mr. Allen, "if I don't succeed in getting Dad to tell itto you himself, I'll tell it when we stop on top of that hogsback torest, " pointing to a great, round hill in the canyon. 

"Do you think Dad will really tell us any of his stories?" queriedWillis. "My father used to know him, and he has stopped at this veryplace. I'm sure he made many trips to Cripple Creek in those old stages. "Turning to Mr. Allen, he continued, "Wouldn't father think it awfullystrange if he knew I was tramping over the very road he used to travel sooften?"

Mr. Allen and Willis dropped to the rear of the line, and Willis went on:

"I've been thinking I'd ask Daddy Wright if he remembered my father, andhe might know where the mine is; and O, I'd so like to see it. I neverwant to be a miner, but I'd just like to know all about mines, so I couldunderstand father better. "

"Well, it all depends on how Dad is feeling, " returned Mr. Allen. "If heis well he will be as glad to see us and as loquacious as a happy child;but if not, he will hardly notice us at all. Leave the talking all to me. He and I are old friends, and I always have some little treat in mypocket for him. He will be looking for it if he is home, but sometimes heis up at the mine. "

"O, he doesn't work a mine now, does he?" exclaimed Willis. 

"No, he doesn't exactly work it, but he owns one up in the gulch herebehind his cabin, and sometimes there is a man up there at work. I don'tknow who he is. "

As they rounded a great boulder that jutted out into the road, the littlecabin of Daddy Wright came into view. A dog began to bark loudly, andsomewhere up in the canyon that runs at right angles to the road therecame the deep, muffled boom of a mine blast. 

"Guess they must be working the mine, after all; still, it might be oneof the others. There are half a dozen in this canyon, all of which havebeen worked more or less. The owners work in the city until they can getenough money to buy powder and grub stakes, then they work the mine for aseason on their earnings, " remarked Mr. Allen. He was carefully surveyingthe cabin and hill behind it. The dog had now come out from its shelterand stood in the middle of the road, doing his utmost to wake the dead. He evidently disliked visitors. 

"Dad can't be very far away, for Knepp is always at his heels. He isnearly as old a timer as Dad himself, and as harmless. Hold on there, youfellows up ahead, " called Mr. Allen. "Let me do the introducing of thisparty. "

The cabin was a little log affair, well-banked around the base with dirtand moss to keep out the cold. To all appearances the only two openingsin it were the front door and a double window. One of the window paneswas covered over with the end of an old egg crate, and another, which wasnot so badly shattered, was repaired by a burlap sack, wadded intothe opening. A big pine stood just outside the door and cast its shadeover the roofless veranda. At one side of the house stood an ancient, moss-covered, hollow pine log, into which a pipe ran from the spring, afew paces back in the gulch. This was the old stage watering-trough, made by Dad himself when the big cabin was built. Directly up the road ahundred paces stood the old stone chimney, a famous landmark of theregion. 

Mr. Allen went to the watering-trough and, filling his cup, called out:

"Here, you fellows, do you want a drink of the greatest ale in the world?It's the purest of Mother Nature's brews. "

The old pine door squeaked on its rusty hinges as it slowly opened. 

"Well, sir, I'll be dummed. Howdy, young 'uns! Whar d' ye hail frum?Huntin' bar, er jist a roundin' up a bunch o' jay-birds? Haw, haw, haw!Yer 'bout the fightin'est bunch o' young dandies I've seen sence thewar. "

Daddy Wright stood in the doorway, taking in every detail of the group. He was a little, shriveled-up man, with small, watery eyes set well backunder shaggy white eyebrows. His head was protected by a verydisreputable and time-worn black hat that looked as if it might have beenin active service for at least a half a century. His clothes were shabbyand dirty, and his feet were bare. It was one of the peculiarities of theold man that he rarely ever wore shoes, except in the coldest of winter;then he preferred his old, home-made moccasins. His straggly, graywhiskers were badly stained with tobacco from his constant companion--anold, corncob pipe. He was short and stout, and had of late years becomevery feeble, being just able to hobble about a little each day with theaid of a cane. 

"Yew fellers with all yer fixin's remind me a heap o' some o' the gangso' green city fellers I used to see when I was freightin' on the oldSpanish Trail--all guns an' blankets an' fixin's, but not much realexplorin' blood in ye. Hain't that 'bout so? Say, Hallen, jist explain tome what yer ca'clatin' to do with these yere young roosters. Explorin', huh--jist as I thought. Kick me fer a stick o' dynamite if ye hain't thebeatenest bunch o' explorers I've seed in many a moon. Lookin' fer goldmines? Suthin' bigger, I s'pose? I'd give half my grub stakes if Tadcould see ye. Explorin', eh? Yew remind me o' the time me an' Old Benwent explorin' on Beaver Creek. We had 'nough truck 'long t' start a goldcamp, an' we walked an' explored an' explored. We must o' walked fer wellnigh onto three weeks, an' all we ever seed in all that time was apole-cat--an' we wished we hadn't o' seed him, fer Ben had t' bury everylivin' last stitch o' his duds an' walk home in his bare hide. Haw, haw!I wisht Tad 'ud come 'long now an' take a squint at yew fellers--he'dbust a bein' tickled!"

"Dad, how is your good health these days?" inquired Mr. Allen, as hehanded the old man a little package he had taken from his haversack. Dadtook it, smelled it through the paper; then a pleased smile spread overhis face. 

"Smells like grains o' gold, Mr. Hallen. Thank ye. As fer me health, never was no better sence I been here. A man can't git sick a livin' outin this yere country all his life. I'll be ninety-five now, in jist afew weeks, an' I'm as spry now as most any o' yew fellers. I'll livelonger'n some o' ye yit. Yep, I'm feelin' mighty spry agin sence Tad'sgot back. Kind o' seems like the old days afore the shanty was burned. Ica'calate them there devils must o' injoyed that performance. "

The fellows all stood at attention. Was the Road House story reallycoming, and from Dad's very own lips?

"It must have been a sad sight, wasn't it, Dad, to see your homedemolished in that fashion?" quietly suggested Mr. Allen, by way ofencouragement. 

"'T wan't near as sad a sight as some I have seed, " replied the old man. "'Bout the saddest sight I ever seed was of an old pard o' mine awanderin' over these almighty hills a sorrowin' out his life after he'dlost his right down best friend in a mine cave-in. Poor old boy, he tookit mighty serious. He used to be the happiest prospector I ever swappedlies with, till that devilish old tunnel caved in an' crushed the lifeout o' the feller's pardner. He hain't never ben no 'count sence, tilllately. Now an' then he'd take a long, wanderin' trip back into theseyere gloomy ol' gulches, an' I've seed them as say they've heerd him awayoff in the hills at night a callin' his pardner's name, an' a sobbin' an'a carryin' on. He's a strong man--that's why he gits out into GodAlmighty's hills to open his troubled heart, 'stead o' tellin' hislonesomeness to men as would make fun o' him. That's 'bout the sorriestsight I ever seed, an' I've seed 'bout my share on 'em--Indian killin's, dynamite explosions, an' sech like. 'T ain't many fellers ever has asreal a friend as that!"

"What finally happened to your friend, Dad--did he get over his sorrowafter a while?"

"No, no, my boy, he never got over it. He got on top of it. I mind nowhow he was gone a long spell in the timber; no grub, no duffel, nonothin'--only his ol' gun. He lived off'n the bounty o' these yere woodedhills, an' he let the spell o' God Almighty's woods an' crags an' streamsheal up his broken heart. Then he came back. I remember one mornin' hecome to my shanty, and a hungrier, starveder, wild-eyed feller ye neverseed in yer born days than him; but shoot me fer a pole-cat if he didn'tcome back a smilin'. I was skeered he'd lost his mind. I was a pannin'mud in the gulch up back o' the shanty when he come 'long the trail. Ijist looked, then I knowed what had happened. He had licked that awfulsorrow. He's ben off down in civilization now fer these ten years, butnow he's back agin. The silent company is callin' him, he says, an' hejist has to have a free breath an' a little more pasture, an' this is theonly place he can git it. "

"He must have had an extraordinary companion, if he had learned to carefor him in that way, " remarked Mr. Allen. 

"Extraordinary, yew say, " began Dad in a low, measured tone. "Bet thelast button on your britches, he was that an' more. He was a youngishfeller, an' quick as scat. Knowed more 'bout machinery 'n all the otherfellers I ever knowed. Seems to me he growed up in Kankakee, or suthin'like that, an' he was a--"

"Where did you say he came from, Mr. Wright?" asked Willis in a voicethat betrayed his excitement. Willis had been thinking very rapidly asDad told his story. What was there in this strange tale that sofascinated him, and made him want to cry aloud? He had never felt sostrange before. 

"Why, I don't 'zackly recollect, " replied Dad. "It was Kankakee orKangaroo, er some sech name. Many's the night he's stopped with me in thebig cabin an' told me about all kinds o' machinery. The night the bigcabin burned he was here a showin' me a lot o' plans of machinery he hadgot up himself. They were 'bout all he saved out o' the fire, 'cept hishide, an' that was some scorched. 

"I never seed a man 'at went so plumb dumb crazy over a few gold nuggetsas him. 'T was here at the old cabin he met his pard, an' they made plansfer a great minin' company. Of all the fellers they was settin' upmachinery in the mines a dozen years ago, this feller was the best o'the lot. Why, oncet he rigged up a--"

"O, Mr. Wright, were there lots of different men installing minemachinery here in the early days?" inquired Willis. A note of anxietyhad crept into his voice. 

"More'n one, do ye mean, lad? Well, I should snicker. I mind oncet theywas five o' them at the cabin one night, an' every feller could provethat his machinery was the best. Sech a jamborees o' arguatin' I neverheerd. I had to send 'em all t' their bunks t' keep 'em frum fightin'. Laws, yes, plenty o' 'em, boy; but this one feller, I forgit his name, now--my pard could say it quicker'n scat--was wuth all the rest o' thebunch put together. He was a reg'lar genius with machinery. "

Dad had been filling his pipe from the package Mr. Allen had given him. He now lighted it and began to smoke. Mr. Allen knew that there would beno more stories that day, so, bidding good-bye to the old man, hesuggested to the boys that they make a start for the Park. After a lastdrink from the cool, bubbling spring, they turned up the gulch, and weresoon lost from view. 

"Well, I hope you'll find explorin' a plenty, young fellers, " called Dad. "Keep yer eye peeled fer pole-cats. They's powerful friendly to strangersin these parts. "

CHAPTER VII

A Wilderness Camp

As the little party climbed upward on the gulch trail, they werediscussing Dad and what they knew of his life. Each boy telling littlestories and incidents that he had heard concerning the old man. Willislagged behind, and did not seem to be particularly interested in theconversation. 

"Well, old man, what are you so glum about?" inquired Ham. "One wouldthink you had been to a funeral instead of chatting with the mosthumorous of old mountaineers. You aren't getting weak in the kneesalready, are you?"

Mr. Allen came to the rescue. 

"No, Ham, he's just like me--busy thinking of the really admirablequalities of the old man. You would have to hunt a long, long time thesedays before you would find another such old timer as Dad. He has lived arough life all his days. He has been knocked about from pillar to postfor ninety long years. Just think of the store of experience that isgathered into that one life--frontiersman, cattle man, freighter, prospector, business man, soldier, and philosopher. Through all hisdisappointments, hardships, and discouragements he has still remained adecided optimist, always happy and cheerful, and is a veritable sage whenit comes to good, common horse-sense. I'd rather take Dad's opinion of aman than any one's I know of in this world. It wouldn't be in polishedEnglish, but it would be shrewd and just. "

From up the valley there came several long, heavy thuds. They soonreached the point where the valley widened out and the underbrushdisappeared to give place to a splendid growth of tall, clean Douglasspruce. Somewhere back in the timber a woodsman was chopping. 

As the trail wound in and out among the great tree trunks, the party sooncame to a little clearing on which was pitched a small tent. Close besideit a little spring trickled out of a fissure in the rocks. At the farside of the tent, with his back to the approaching group, worked a man. He was engaged in chopping young spruce logs into lengths for mine props. Fat called out in his cheeriest voice, "Hello, there; must be going tobuild a cabin!" The man turned and a broad smile crossed his face. 

"Yes, an underground one, " he said. Then, in a surprised tone, hecontinued, "Well, well, aren't you the fellows I saw over at Ben's placethe other evening?" Without waiting for a reply, he went on: "Why, yes, there is my friend of the wreck! How do you do, lad? It looks like youfellows are going to make somewhat of a journey, from the appearance ofyour traps. Where to, may I inquire? Looking for something definite, orjust out, like myself, to get a little of the wilderness spirit into yoursystems?"

"Well, I hardly expected to see you up here in the mountains, " saidWillis. "It seems we have met a good many times since spring. What areyou doing up here, anyway?" He turned and surveyed the valley. 

"Well, I'll tell you, " replied the man, as he leaned on his ax-handle. "It's like this. When I was a young man, like yourself, I developed agreat love for life in the wilderness. My father was a mountain ranchmanin the Sierra Nevadas, so I had ample opportunity to satisfy my greatestdesire--to roam the hills and valleys and to learn first-hand the art ofgetting along well in the wilderness by utilizing Nature's storehouse. AsI have grown older, I have found out that it is the only place where I ampermanently happy. Years ago my partner and myself located this mine, along with some others; but because of lack of capital, this one wasnever developed. " He pointed his finger to a pile of loose, freshly-minedrock just up the hill from his tent. "I've been railroading for the lastten years, but was awfully unlucky; so after the last smash-up I decidedI would come back and see what this old mine held for me. It's a funnything about mines, boys--you can dig and work, work and dig, and be moreor less contented as long as you find nothing but prospects. But when youdig up a little of the real gold, you get terribly impatient until youfind it in paying quantities. I've had the gold fever for twenty years. "

"Do you think there is anything in any of these mines on CheyenneMountain?" inquired Willis. "My father owned a mine somewhere on thismountain; but I expect that it was a good deal like your mine--neverdeveloped. I'd love to find it, though, just because it was his. Hewas killed in a mine accident, somewhere in these hills, when I was asmall boy. "

The miner's face went suddenly white. His eyes partially closed and hishands shook, as he muttered something about, "Just as I thought, " thencontinued, "Well, I--" He changed his mind, and, turning to his woodpile, chopped vigorously for some moments. When he spoke again Mr. Allennoticed that his voice was husky and that he was scrutinizing Willis withspecial care. 

"I can't tell you to whom all these holes belong, but some of them Iknow. That one over there was located by Old Ben at Bruin Inn. That onewith a dump of black rock, " pointing up the opposite side of the canyon, "belongs to a real estate firm in Colorado Springs--Williams andsomebody. " He never took his eyes from the boy's face as he spoke. 

"Williams, why--why, my Uncle, Williams, is a real estate man, but Ididn't know that he--"

The miner, still eyeing the boy carefully, interrupted him by adding, "And the hole directly to one side, and on the same property, belonged toa young engineer, and was located many years ago. The Williams shaft hasbeen sunk in the last few years. That hole has the very best prospects ofbeing something of any on the mountain. The Williams outfit restaked theclaim because the assessment work had not been kept up by the originalowner. "

"What was the original owner's name? Do you know? You say he was a youngengineer?"

"Yes, his name was Thornton. " The man dropped his head and worked theheel of his boot nervously in the dirt. "I used to know him quite well, years ago. " Then he added, in a slow, hesitating tone, "I haven't seenanything of him for nearly a dozen years. "

The corners of Willis's mouth twitched nervously. He tried to speak, butcouldn't. He came a couple of paces nearer to the miner, stopped, pickedup a slender twig, and began to whittle it thoughtfully. 

"Would you mind telling me all about him--all you know?" asked Willis. The miner looked at him curiously a minute, then asked, in a quiet, well-controlled voice, "Did you know the man, lad?"

"Not so well as I would like to have known him, sir; but perhaps I mayget better acquainted with him now. He was my father, but I hardlyremember him, except for the stories and pictures that mother has told meabout. I've always wanted to know more about him. "

"I can't tell you much, my boy, " returned the miner in a kind, friendlyvoice, "only that he was the best man that ever set a hoisting plant inthis region, and the finest, cleanest young fellow that ever came intothese hills. Every man was his friend. "

"Did you ever know a Mr. Kieser who was a friend of my father's?" askedWillis, after a moment's thought. 

"Seems like I did, " replied the miner, "a great many years ago, but he disappeared from this region long since. "

"Did you say the mine which once belonged to my father seemed to be thebest in the canyon?" broke in Willis. 

"Yes, it did, the last I knew of it; but nothing ever came of it, exceptthat there have been two men there to-day, preparing to do this season'sassessment work. You can never tell, you know, about a gold mine, formost of them have just been 'holes full of hope, ' and the hope usuallyleaked out sooner or later. "

Chuck halloed from up the trail to get under way, or they would neverreach the top by dark. 

"Going to camp up in the Park to-night, I presume?" asked the miner. 

"Yes, if we can make it, " replied Mr. Allen. "Have you been up to the toplately?" "Yes, I was up yesterday, and it's a grand sight at this seasonof the year. The Maraposa lilies are blooming in great profusion, and thespring is running a fine little stream. I had a very pleasant surprise upthere, too. Years ago there was a large herd of deer which lived in thatpark, but they were supposedly all killed off. Yesterday, about thistime, as I sat on a dead log just back from the spring, quietly thinkingover some of the memories of old times when I had hunted on that veryground, I heard the dry twigs snap, and, turning, I saw a doe and twotiny, spotted fawns cross the park and enter the timber at the otherside. If you build a fire to-night you may get a glimpse of them. "

"I'm coming to have a long talk with you some of these days, " calledWillis as they started off. 

At last the entrance to the Park was reached, and they came upon astretch of level ground. The entire country changed. Instead of the stonytallus of the canyon, there was soft, black soil under foot. Insteadof the great spruces and firs scenting the air, there were only tall, stately aspens on every side, their leafy tops lost in the deepeningshadows. Instead of the ground cedar and berry bushes, wild grass grew inrank profusion. The air was tinged with a faint fragrance, and somewherein the distance came the sound of gently-splashing waters, "Like a voicehalf-sobbing and half-laughing under the shadows. "

The party halted and turned to the right of the trail, where a great, lone pine tree stood on a little rise of ground, directly above the tinyspring. This was to be the camping spot for the night. Packs were quicklyremoved and unfolded, dry sticks gathered for the fire, and sweet-scentedbalsam boughs were cut and brought to the tree. One generous bed wasmade, big enough for all, close in front of the camp-fire. Mr. Allencleaned and filled his small acetylene lamp--"In case of need, " he said. The guns were stacked in a handy place and supper operations gotten underway. 

"It sure does smell awfully good up here, " began Phil. "I wish we hadgotten here before dark--I'd like to have had a little look around beforeI went to sleep. Who knows but we may be sleeping ten yards from a bear'sden. We are up in a real wilderness, now!"

"Bears, your grandmother!" snorted Ham, as he deftly opened a can ofbaked beans with his pocket knife. "A lot of great big bare spots isabout all you could find. Say, Phil, on the dead square, what would youdo, now, if a black bear would sneak down here to-night and crawl intobed with you?" "I'd say, 'Mr. Bear, if you want a real sweet, tendermorsel that's easily digested, just help yourself to that little importedHam over there. '" A roar of laughter went up from the others. 

Chuck was philosophizing about the value of gathering food while it wasyet day, as he sat stowing away his quart of fresh raspberries. 

"You can have all you want of them, " retorted Mr. Allen. "I'm seedyenough now, without eating those things. "

"What's the matter, Willis? Did we walk you too hard?" inquired Fat. 

"No, I could walk a hundred miles yet to-night, " replied Willis, as hesliced up his bacon preparatory to frying it. "But this has been a verywonderful day for me. It's all so new, you know, and I'm green, too. Besides, it all has a very special significance to me, some way. I loveit. I like it better than anything in the world. I could live this wayforever. I'm sure I could write poetry to-night, or paint a greatpicture, or even sing. It's a wonderful feeling. Did you ever feel thatway? It's the charm of the great out-of-doors. "

"I think we had better picket Willis to-night, " dryly remarked Ham. "He'sliable to be floating off in his enthusiasm. But if he happens to befortunate enough to lie on a friendly pine knot all night, he'll feeldifferently in the morning. "

So the merry talk went on. After supper bigger logs were laid on thefire. A collapsible canvas bucket, filled with drinking water, was hungon a low limb of the tree, and the supply of night wood was convenientlyplaced near Mr. Allen's end of the bed. 

Then Ham got a long, cotton bag, from which he produced several handfulsof pinion nuts. They were always the introduction to the camp-firestories. He seated himself, drew his knees up close to his body, leanedback against the great tree trunk, and shouted: "All aboard, let herflicker. What's first? Mr. Allen, let's have that promised story youdidn't get out of Dad. I believe you just side-tracked him on purpose, soyou could tell it yourself. Come, now, wasn't that it?" He began towhistle in a low tone as he waited for the story. Fat stretched himselfat full length before the fire, his head resting on his blanket roll. Phil had backed up on one side of Mr. Allen and Willis on theother. Everybody was waiting. 

"Well, once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a little fairy, "began Mr. Allen. 

"You don't say so, " interrupted Ham, as he tossed a stick into the firein a disgusted manner. "Was it fairy long ago? I can recite Mother Gooserhymes myself. You'll have to do better than that. "

Phil nudged Mr. Allen in the ribs and chuckled to himself. 

"Well, then, how's this: Not many years ago, in a wonderful littlevillage, there--"

"Was a wooden wedding at which two Poles were married, " interrupted Ham, with a mischievous grin on his face. 

"You're kind of hard to please, Ham, " suggested Fat, as he rolled over towarm his other side. 

"How's this? The night was dark and stormy, " started in Mr. Allen. Hamsettled back contentedly. "That's something like it. 'The night was darkand stormy, ' and what else?"

"Well, if you must have it. I have heard a good many stories of how theOld Road House was burned, but they are all different. Which one shall Itell you? I'll tell you the one that Daddy tells himself, because itprobably comes nearest the truth. As a matter of fact, though, I don'tbelieve any one knows just how it burned down. 

"You know Dad spent his boyhood on a great southwestern cattle ranch, andknew at first hand a great many things about Indians and tramping andmining and 'explorin', ' as he calls it. Just why he left this ranch lifehe never told me exactly, but I know he had his first case of real goldfever in forty-nine, and has never gotten over it. His father was aUnited States marshal, and was instrumental in gathering in a number ofthe most notorious criminals of his day. One of Dad's favorite stories isof the capture of a gang of Mississippi River pirates. 

"It was Dad's father that finally cleaned out this great nuisance when hecaptured Mason, their leader, through the treachery of his fellows. Whenthe final raid was made, Dad, who was then a young man, was one of theparty. It seems that there was a certain boy in this pirate gang whoescaped, after having been arrested with the others. Several years laterDad had occasion to remember the threats this boy had made to him at thetime of the raid. 

"Dad was out on a trapping trip with a group of professional trappers, and, as was the custom, each man had taken with him two good horses, oneto carry his share of the hides and his food supply, the other to be usedin case of emergency. They were trapping in the Arkansas valley, andafter a few weeks out they began to suspect that their camp was beingwatched by a large band of hostile Indians. They understood the situationperfectly. The Indians were not following them for murder or for a merefight, but for their horses and furs. They would not attack, however, until they were reasonably sure of getting away with the desired bootywithout loss of life to their own party. 

"The trappers' hunt had been a very successful one, and a large amount ofmoney was already represented in the heavy packs of fur. Each night thesepacks of fur were carefully arranged in a big circle, forming a cruderampart for the party. The furs gave the men reasonable safety as theyslept, for no arrow, however swift, could penetrate a roll of greenhides. The horses were always securely fastened not far from the camp, and guards posted at night. 

"Finally the ideal night for attack came. It was dark as pitch, not evena star showing in the cloudy sky. As night fell, it was so stormy thatthe usual night guard was not deemed necessary. Instead, every man wentto sleep. Sometime in the night Dad was suddenly awakened by the poundingof many hoofs on the hard gravel of the valley. In less than a second theentire camp was awake, and every man gripped his rifle in readiness. Noone dared to leave the rampart. Safety lay in being all together. Thepounding of hoofs grew louder and louder, the picketed horses whinnied, then there was a wild gallop past the little camp, accompanied byfiendish yells. Not a man dared to investigate, for fear of ambush. Allthat they could do was to patiently await the coming of morning. 

"With the first rays of light all looked anxiously toward where thehorses had been picketed so carelessly. They were gone, every one ofthem. A hasty examination told the tale. Under the cover of the intensedarkness, the hobbles and the picket ropes had been cut at the pins, soas not to disturb the horses or waken the sleeping trappers. After theropes were cut, the Indians had ridden pell-mell past the free animals, and they, finding their fastenings gone, had joined the stampede. It wasa clever game, and the trappers had lost. What were they to do--fifteendays' journey from any assistance, and not a horse within a hundredmiles?

"As they climbed a hill on the far side of the river, to take a look atthe surrounding country, they heard a faint whinny, and there, in thebottom of the gulch, lay one of their horses, stretched at full length. His feet had become entangled in the long picket rope, and he had fallenat the edge of the washout with a badly-broken leg. The party gatheredabout the unfortunate animal, lamenting the fact that he must be shot torelieve him of his suffering. 

"As they stood talking, Dad noticed a movement in a nearby clump ofbushes. Was he mistaken? He quietly told his partner what he had seen, and, with rifles leveled, the two cautiously approached the spot. Therewas, however, no need of fear, for it turned out to be only a youngIndian boy, and he badly injured. He had probably been riding the horsebefore its fall. Everybody was for instantly shooting the lad except Dad, who protested, explaining that the boy might be able to give themvaluable information as to the number of Indians in the war party, andsomething of their future plans. This seemed to be reasonably wise, sothe wounded Indian was taken back to the trappers' camp. 

"For many days he kept silence, never once speaking to any one, growingweaker and weaker every day from his injuries. Finally he was taken withan awful fever, and every man in the party knew that nothing couldpossibly save him. Dad nursed him and cared for him as patiently as if hehad been one of their own party. When the Indian learned that he was tobe treated kindly for the present, at least, he called for Dad, makingfeeble signs that he wanted to talk to him secretly. After a long andpainful effort he made Dad understand who was with the band of Indians, and why they had watched the trappers so long and so closely. There was acertain pale face with them who was their leader and who had been a 'heapbig robber' on the big river. He had offered a reward for Dad's life toevery Indian in the party. He had invented the stampede, and when the menwere faint with hunger and watching, they would be back to kill them all. Dad was to be hung in honor of the occasion, to celebrate the day thepirate had made his escape from Dad's father. In a few hours the Indiandied. Dad kept his secret to himself, although he was greatly disturbedover it. He was being hunted--hunted by a savage worse than any red manthat ever shot a bow or took a scalp. He remembered, now, that many ofhis comrades of that memorable raid had since mysteriously disappeared. The truth flashed upon him in an instant. Shorty Thunder, the riverpirate, was taking his revenge. Slowly but surely he was hounding downevery man that had sought his life that day. 

"In a few days the trapping party was picked up by another hunting party. 

"What's the matter, Ham? Are you getting sleepy?" called Mr. Allen as hearose to replenish the fire. Ham had sprawled out on the ground and waslooking off into the dark woods, all alert. 

"Sh-h-, you, " he whispered as he motioned them not to move. "I sawsomething move out there in those bushes just now; I'll bet my hat onit. "

"O sugar, " said Phil. "Something moved, did it? What do you suppose itwas, an elephant?"

Just then Fat raised his finger cautiously. "Quiet, there, a second, yourubes. Use your eyes more instead of your mouths, and you'll see more. Can't you see that light spot right over there?" pointing into thedarkness with a very crooked stick he had been fooling with. All satquietly listening and watching, but to no avail. They could see nothing. 

"Go on with your story, Mr. Allen, " urged Ham. "What's river pirates gotto do with the destruction of the Old Road House, that's what I'd like toknow. " The crowd settled themselves again for the rest of the story. 

"Well, it's like this, Ham, " continued Mr. Allen. "Every great story hasa preface, and I've been telling you the preface so far. " Ham let out afew long, extra well-developed snores. "Say, Fat, wake me when he gets tothe beginning of the first chapter, will you?"

"Finally Dad came to Colorado--just why, I don't know; but he prospectedhereabouts a good deal in the early days, and when gold was discovered inCripple Creek he was right on hand. In 1873, I think it was, the countybuilt the Cripple Creek Stage Road. Dad was a pretty old man then, butnot too old to see his opportunity. With a little outside capital, heconstructed that famous mountain inn, the Road House. In a short timeafter it opened for business it became a very popular place, and was soonproducing a nice little revenue for Dad. 

"The night the house was burned, you remember, I said was dark andstormy. It was in the summer, and a typical mountain storm was in fullblast. The thunder and lightning were terrific. When the down stagepulled up at the inn, just before dark, they decided to stay for thenight, fearing a possible cloudburst. It happened that the stage was fullof passengers that night. There was a little Irishman who had justdiscovered a fine ledge of onyx out north of Cripple Creek, and a coupleof engineers who had been surveying for a mine over in Cookstove Gulch. Besides these there was a hard-looking old scalawag, who kept hisbusiness all to himself. As they sat at supper, Dad noticed that theold-timer eyed him very closely, yet had nothing to say; and as he lookedback on that night, long after the fire, he remembered a lot of littleincidents that gave evidence to his own theory. For instance, severaltimes during the evening the old stranger rose from his seat and went outinto the night. He seemed very nervous about something. He did not minglewith the other men, but sat well back in the corner by himself. When itbecame time to go to bed, the old man insisted on sleeping on a couchnear the fireplace. Old Ben, who was there at the time, said afterward heremembered some one moving about the cabin in the night. 

"The storm was at its worst. Suddenly out of the raging storm Dad's doglet out a long, fierce yelp, followed by several low growls. Dad shouteddown to him to be quiet, supposing he had smelled a coyote or a pole-catoutside. He was quiet for a few moments, then a second time he howled andscratched at the door. There was a loud cursing, that was nearly lost ina peal of thunder, then the cry of 'Fire!' The smoke of the burning logswas already streaming up the open stairway. The outside door opened andshut, yet the dog was left inside. Almost before the sleeping guestscould grab their clothes, the whole house was a sheet of flame. There wasa wild scramble for the back stairway. Dad hurried down the front way, stumbling through the smoke to the door. The dog gave a joyous bark andsprang toward him. As he opened the door, he stumbled over a largeoil-can that always stood just under the stairway. He didn't think ofit at the time because of his excitement, but later, as he puzzled overthe real cause of the fire, he remembered with startling distinctnesshis stumbling over the empty oil-can, which he knew had been full theday before. As months went by he put this with other little bits ofinformation, and he believed he understood, yet he had no proof. The oldman who had slept downstairs had oiled the entire first floor, then setit afire. But why? That was the question. 

"He remembered how the old man had insisted that the house had beenstruck by lightning. Dad never saw him again after that night, but a fewmonths afterwards he recognized him in a description of one of therobbers of a stage coach, held up at Duffield's. Then, like a flash, itcame to Dad. The old-timer was his enemy of the river pirates, old ShortyThunder. He had accidently stumbled onto Dad here in these mountains, andhad determined to settle scores once for all. He had meant by settingfire to the cabin to burn Dad alive, and if it hadn't been for the dog heprobably would have succeeded. "

"Great old tale, " sighed Phil, as he arose and stretched himself. 

"Let's turn in, " suggested Fat, "for you know we have some walking aheadof us to-morrow. " "Second the motion, " joined in Ham. "Me for a good, bigdrink, though, to wash that fairy tale down. How about it?"

The little party gathered close about the fire after all finalarrangements had been made for the night. Boots were pulled off and setaway from the fire. Watches were wound and trousers unbuckled. They hadall instinctively looked toward the "Chief. " He had drawn close to thefire, and was turning over the leaves of a pocket Testament. 

"What will you have to-night, fellows, from the Great Spirit's Messagebefore we sleep?"

"The one about the lilies, " said Ham thoughtfully. "There are several bigones in bloom just at the head of my bed. " The "Chief" began to read inlow, reverent tones. 

"And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say untoyou, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one ofthese. " So he went on reading till he came to the end of the chapter, after which there was a short, reverent prayer, and they were ready forbed. 

"They talk about cold, clammy churches being the House of God, " snortedHam, as he snuggled down into his blanket, "but they aren't in it with anight like this spent in the open in such a country. "

"There's a good deal of the primitive man in you yet, Ham, " said Mr. Allen, as he spread out his blanket before the fire. 

"How do you make that out?" asked Ham. 

"Well, you're just like all the primitive people of long ago. You lovenature and the out-of-doors. All these things appeal to you tremendously;but you love them more than the Great Power of which they are just anexpression. The only difference between our religion and that of theNature worshipers is that they worship the manifestations of Nature, butwe go beyond that and worship the Great Spirit that is able to createsuch a Nature. " "Too deep for me, too deep for me; I'm no philosopher, "grunted Ham, as he rolled over and settled himself for a good night'ssleep. 

Tad Kieser stood watching the little group as they climbed up the windingtrail, then he slowly returned to his chopping. 

"Shoot me for a pole-cat, as Dad would say, " he remarked half-aloud, ashe spat on his hands and raised the heavy ax over his head. "He's thevery spit'n image of Bill, now that's dead sure, and there's one thingmore that's certain. " He was interrupted in his thoughts by the loudreport of a gun somewhere up on the mountain side. Turning his headtoward the Williams claim, he saw the two men who had gone up the trailto the mine late that morning shooting at a great hawk that was circlingin the sky far above them. 

"That mine belongs to the boy, but how's he going to get it?"

He busied himself about his camp the rest of the afternoon, then in theearly evening he strolled down the trail to chat with Dad a little beforebed-time. Many an evening he had spent with Dad, sitting with him infront of his cabin, talking over old times and bygone years. As Tad camedown the trail, the smell of Dad's simple supper came floating up to him. He had forgotten to eat, but perhaps Dad would share his meal with him. He pulled open the old pine door and entered. Dad sat at his little tableeating, his faithful dog at his feet, patiently waiting for his share ofthe meal, for he had learned from years of experience that it would besomething. 

"Howdy, Tad, strike it rich to-day? S'pose ye jist been a shovelin' outnuggets all day long, till yer tired o' seein' 'em, hain't ye? Tad, Iseed the beatenest bunch o' young'uns to-day ye ever seed in yer life, all on a explorin' trip o' some kind. "

"That so?" replied Tad, "must have been the same party I saw. Did you seethat tall, slender lad with the brown eyes and dark hair?"

"Yep, b'lieve I did, come t' think on it, only I didn't pay muchpertic'lar 'tention to none of 'em. "

Tad helped himself to an old chair, and, leaning back against the wall, lighted his pipe. He was quiet for a long time, then he spoke in a slow, thoughtful manner, his pipe held firmly between his teeth, his eyesfixed on a spot far away down the mountain. 

"Dad, the boy has come. He's come to me, and he's just like hisfather--tall and straight and clean-cut. Dad, he needs a father, andperhaps I'll have to act in that capacity yet, who knows, for thatuncle of his is a rascal and will bear a good deal of watching. "

"What? Ye don't mean the young feller ye was a tellin' me about the otherevenin'? Bill's boy really come to the mountains?" asked Dad, becominginterested at once. 

"Yes, he's here, Dad, as sure as I'm a living man. He went up this trailthis afternoon, and I talked with him. He asked about his father thefirst thing; said his father owned a mine up here somewhere, and asked meif I knew Tad Kieser. "

"Shoot me fer a pole-cat. Well, I'll be dum-swizzled, course ye told himYep, ye knowed him a little, didn't ye?"

"No, Dad, I didn't, and that's just what I've come down to talk to youabout this evening. You see, it's like this: If I had told him who I was, that would have been the end of it, but if he doesn't really find out whoI am for a while yet, perhaps I can locate a paying gold mine for him. I always have felt that I owed him at least that much. "

"So ye didn't tell him?" pondered Dad. "Well, Tad, yer head is a sightlonger'n mine is, an' I s'pose ye know what's best; but, my boy, let megive ye a little advice: If ye wait till ye find a real gold mine inthese here parts, the boy's likely as not to die o' old age 'fore ye findit. "

"Perhaps so, Dad. Perhaps you're right; but then, if I don't ever findit, I won't tell him who I am, because he'd be disappointed. He thinkshis father owned a real mine in these mountains somewhere, and he'slooking for it. Do you know, I've been wondering--no, it can't be, though; I suppose I'm foolish, but someway, I've always felt that I oughtto have been man enough to have worked the old tunnel just a littlefarther. Bill was so certain that things looked better, and--"

"Tad, hain't ye ever been in the old hole sence that day, honest Injun? Iused t' think that's where ye went when ye'd go off fer a week er tendays in the hills all by yerself. "

"No, Dad, I give you my word, I've never been in that hole since the dayI carried poor Bill's broken body out. I've never been near since I putthat great, heavy lock on the door, and then I dropped the only key intothe old shaft. I thought that perhaps some time the temptation to go backin might be too strong, and I'd do it. "

Both smoked silently for a long time, then Dad spoke:

"S'posin' somebody would jump ye over yonder, Tad. What's to hinder 'ema breakin' in an' startin' operations? I've heerd tell that old Williamsclaimed that property, but course it's a dern lie--"

"He couldn't jump it, Dad, because I hold the deed to it. We proved up onthat, you know, the summer before; but I believe Williams does hold aplacer claim on the property. You know placers can run into regular lodeclaims. He could claim the tunnel, all right, too, I suppose, if theowner couldn't be found. Especially since he seems to be the onlyrelative Bill had, except his wife. "

"What do ye s'pose ever possessed that old pole-cat to stake a placerclaim jest there, 'stead o' somewhere else? The dirt won't pan color, will it?" asked Dad. "That's just what has bothered me, Dad. The only waythat I can figure it out is that Williams got some inkling of theprospects of the tunnel from some of Bill's papers or letters. It wasn'ttwo weeks after Bill died till that old skinflint went tramping up thereand staked that placer claim. He's worked assessments on it every yearsince. One year he repaired the cabin, and one year he built a dam; atother times he built a bridge and a trail, and dug an assessment hole ortwo--most anything to get in the required hundred dollars' worth ofworking. It's that, more than anything else, that has set me to wonderingjust what was in the old hole, after all, that made him so interested. Bill was conscious long enough to talk a little before he died, and Inever believed that Williams told me the truth about what he said. It'staken me a long time to think it all out, but I believe there issomething I don't know about the deal. "

"Well, who knows, Tad, who knows; maybe we're a sittin' on a pile o' goldnuggets this minute; but we'll never see 'em; mark my words, boy, we'llnever see 'em. God Almighty's a savin' 'em fer somethin', if there isany, an' if we ain't to have 'em, we'll never git 'em, that's sure. "After a few vigorous puffs, Dad lapsed into a long silence, and soon Tadarose to go. 

"Good-night, Dad, good-night, " he said in an absent-minded way, as hestarted through the old door and up the trail. 

Some time in the night the clouds broke and the stars came out clear andshining. A warm current of air came gently up from the valley, softlyshaking the ever-responsive leaves of the stately aspens. The night wasabsolutely still, and the fire had burned down till all that remained ofit was a rounded heap of brightly-glowing embers. Far, far away a turtledove was calling--calling so softly that it almost seemed to beimagination. Now and then a katydid would lift its tiny voice for a fewseconds. 

Willis rose cautiously on one shoulder, and looked about him. He placedhis hand to his ear and gazed intently out into the darkness. What wasthat? He shut his eyes that he might hear the better. He could not bemistaken, he had heard a dry twig snap--one, two, three little dry, rasping sounds. Perhaps it was just a rabbit or a squirrel. Again heraised himself cautiously on his shoulder and peered out into theshadows. There! another snap, this time nearer and more distinct. Thenight breeze gently fanned the dying embers. Suddenly there was a seriesof gentle little patters on the dead leaves just outside the circle oflight. Would he awaken Mr. Allen, or would he watch by himself. Hardlyhad the thought entered his head when, without a sound, and without beingconscious that another was watching, Mr. Allen slowly arose to a sittingposture and stared out into the forest in the same direction. 

"What is it, Mr. Allen?" softly whispered Willis. Mr. Allen jumped atrifle. "O, I don't know; I heard it a couple of hours ago. I'd like tosee a wild animal, wouldn't you? I think it must be the fire thatattracts it. I'd like to light my dark lantern, but I hate to strike amatch. " He leaned over to the fire, picked up a dry pine needle, andlighted it in the fire, applying the tiny flame to his opened lantern. Quietly Mr. Allen opened the shield, and a long, bright gleam sweptnoiselessly out into the darkness, revealing with almost painfuldistinctness the outlines of every stem of grass and flower. Then, far atthe end of the path of light, something moved. There were two small, luminous spots, then in an instant two more, a little larger. Slowly theshifting lights and shadows took shape, and there, before them, stood twodeer--a doe and a tiny fawn. 

"O, aren't they beautiful?" whispered Willis. Just then the fawn left itsmother's side and came fearlessly down the path of light--one, two, sixsteps--staring into the wonderful, dazzling beam. There was a gentle callfrom the mother, and in an instant they had disappeared into the shadowsfrom whence they had come. There was a bound, a broken twig, a rustleof dead leaves, and all was quiet again. 

For a long time Willis and Mr. Allen waited, watching for them to return;but they did not come. The fire slowly died out and turned into a pile ofghostly ashes, while the party slept on until morning. 

CHAPTER VIII

The Second Day Out

Ham was the first to awaken in the morning. A pair of saucy jays hadbeen gossiping about the little party for nearly an hour. At first theyjust exchanged ideas, making their observations from a reasonabledistance. One perched on the topmost limb of a dead pine, the otherbobbing up and down on the slender twigs of a neighboring aspen. 

"Those crazy jabberers would dispute the identity of their own mates, "exclaimed Ham, as he pulled on his trousers and got into his high boots. "They talk about some folks always having too much to say, but--O, shutup, you noisy robbers!" He reached for a heavy stick, and sent itflying into the air toward the aspen. There was a flapping of wings, aharsh, scolding threat, and the jays retreated to talk it over. 

Very soon the camp was all astir, and there was a general call for afire. 

"You don't want to forget that we have the most important ceremony ofthis entire trip to go through with here yet this morning before any ofus can eat breakfast. What's your hurry, anyway? Get busy here, Fat, andget another armful of wood like this that I have. In about three shakeswe'll have an altar built and we'll have our oracle fire burning in lessthan a jiffy. Be quick, now, but don't disturb the Spirit, " cried Ham. 

"Oracle fire, your grandmother, " interrupted Phil. "I'm as hungry as apet lion, and it's breakfast for me, and that right soon; oatmeal, aboiled egg, and some rye bread sounds about right!"

"Me, too, " chimed in Fat, reaching for his haversack. "Hungry's no name, and I don't believe I brought enough grub, either. "

"Stop!" shouted Ham. "Now, Mr. Philip Dennis, Jr. , hear your humbleservant, the Spook Doctor, for just about a second. Long, long ago, evenbefore our friend, Zebulon Pike, took his first peek at Pike's Peak, there was a custom common to all the Indian tribes about us, " making agesture to include all the surrounding country, "and it was believedabsolutely necessary to the happiness and well-being of their mightywarriors to indulge in this orgy at stated seasons. " Ham was makingwild gestures as he went on with his mock oratory. "Never was a huntstarted, never was a journey undertaken, never a distant quest soughtafter, until the tribe had first slept, then gathered around the mysticaltar of the Spook Doctor. "

"Ham, you're a regular heathen, " called Mr. Allen from his blanket. "Whathas the altar got to do with it, anyway?"

"Well, it's just like this, " continued Ham. "After the first night'sslumbers we build an Indian signal fire just like this, then in bare feetand empty stomachs we dance around the fire and implore the Mighty NightWind to interpret the dreams we have had during our first night out. They never fail to disclose the outcome of the journey, whether it willbe a success or a failure. " As he bent over and lighted the fire, hesaid, "You may be seated. "

The childishness of it all appealed to every one of them, and they did asthey were commanded. Then Ham solemnly and weirdly called, "Fat, you'refirst. Hurry, while the smoke is curling, curling upward. "

Fat arose and made mock obeisance to the fire. 

"My dream was a very queer one, but most too short to have a realmeaning. I dreamed I was in a big barnyard and all I could see waspigs--little pigs, big pigs, and all kinds of pigs--and they were allstanding around an empty trough. Now, Mr. Wise Man, tell me what that hasto do with a quest for a cabin site, will you?"

Phil rolled over and chuckled to himself. "Oho, Fat, you will eat baconfor supper, will you? while your poor fellow-travelers sup on a rare andexpensive can of beans. Ha-ha-ha! Eat pork and you dream of pigs. "

Ham looked long into the fire, then, turning, cried out:

"I have it, I have it, the Spirit speaks. Fat, you will run out ofprovisions long before this journey is over. You will eat all you have byto-morrow, and never think of the days to follow. Beware, for so theSpirit tells me. "

A roar of laughter went up from the others. 

"Mr. Allen, your dream next, " called Ham, mystically. 

"Well, I dreamed of beautiful autumn days, spent in a splendid grove oftrees, cutting choice timbers for a cabin; and then I dreamed of a crowdof old men, sitting before an open fire-place, telling about how they hadbuilt a cabin long years before, when they were boys. "

"That needs no interpreter. Phil, your dream is now demanded. Tell ittruly, lie and you will live to suffer. Careful, now, and do not hurry. "

"Well, I dreamed a dandy, " cried Phil. "I saw a crazy loon standing infront of a fire, gazing into fiery embers, and--" There was a cracklingin the fire, a shower of sparks went up, and one of the altar stonesturned over. 

"O, how sad, " groaned Ham, "that such a man should lie so to the greatSpook Doctor. In wrath he tears down the altar--hisses forth hisdisapproval in clouds of tiny spark-thoughts. Willis, you are next. Now, do not rile the mighty Master. " "Well, " said Willis, "my dream was not sostrange. I just dreamed over and over the thoughts I took to bed with me. I saw cabins and mines and tunnels and miners of all descriptions, onlythat there was one that looked very familiar, and it was a very hard oneto find and get to. " Ham had failed to replenish the fire, and it hadburned to a tiny, smoldering heap of ashes. 

"I can not answer that one, " said Ham, "for the Great Spirit has now leftme. Let's eat our breakfast, and I hope it will be more substantial thanthese dreams. "

Soon breakfast was under way. It was a simple meal and soon over with. Cooking utensils were washed and packs rolled, ready for the day'sjourney. 

"What time of day?" asked Chuck. 

"Seven-ten, " promptly replied Willis, "and just the time to be startingthrough the Park, if we want to see it before the dew is gone. " At thespring they stopped to drink and to examine the deer tracks in the soft, black muck. From there the trail led off, zigzaging down the gentleslope. On either side of the path the wild grasses and ferns grew in rankprofusion, while scattered here and there on the soft, green carpet weregreat numbers of dainty Maraposa lilies. Now and then a tall, greenstalk of the columbine could be seen, and occasionally a wooly circle ofbracts on the stem of a late anemone. At intervals tall ferns bent overthe woodland pathway, as if to hide and protect it for the private useof the many tiny wild feet that scampered over it daily. 

"Isn't this great, " cried Ham. "Just take a peek at that grove of trees. I'll bet that grass is full of snakes and rabbits. I'd like to take ashot at a big 'jack' this morning. "

"It's an old swamp, " replied Willis. "Perhaps there was once a littlelake here. Wouldn't it be a swell place for a shanty? I'll bet it's fullof grouse. "

"I suppose it was once an Indian camping ground, " suggested Mr. Allen. "Just a little flat oasis on the summit of a granite mountain. Rememberwhere we came up last night? Now, look away off there, " pointing hisfinger. "We are ten thousand feet above the sea up here; up where wecan see how the world is made, and how beautiful it is. "

Soon the little park came to an abrupt end, and great boulders began toloom up on every side. They came to the edge of the cliff, and could lookfar down into the valley below. Away to the west stood Black Mountain, arounded bluff, so densely covered with young timber that it seemed at adistance to be a mountain of black dirt. Far below them could be seen thesilver thread of a tiny stream as it followed the canyon toward the sandyplains. They had climbed out onto a great boulder, now, that overlookedthe canyon far below on one side and the level plains on the other. Herethey sat down to rest and talk. 

"Do you see that hollow spot in the plain there, just at the foot of themountain?" Mr. Allen was saying. "It is what has been known for manyyears as the Big Hollow Ranch. It was homesteaded in the early days, before the war, by our friend, Daddy Wright. There is a story that tellsof how, in those days, the Indians would lie in wait and steal cattlefrom the great Texas roundups as they passed, enroute to Kansas City, andwould drive large numbers of the cattle into that great hollow. After thecattle were driven inside, a few men could guard the opening while theother Indians drove the cattle off into lonely ravines. "

"My! what a fire there must have been here sometime, " exclaimed Willis, noting the dead trees. "I have always wanted to see a forest fire; itmust be a grand sight. "

"Yes, if you're far enough away to be safe, " joined in Chuck. "I saw oneonce, but it was several miles away. It looked fine from there. It wasthe year we camped at the old hatcheries up in the Middle Park. MountDeception was very much like Black Mountain, then--very heavily timberedwith fine, large trees. As the years went by a very large slab pile beganto accumulate back of the mill. Some way, no one ever knew just how, those slab piles got afire. It was on a very windy summer night, wheneverything was as dry as chips and the hills were covered with heaps ofdry toppings and pine slash. Well, the fire got into a few piles oftoppings, and before the men at the mill realized that there was a fire, it was running over the hills like a wild thing. The dry pine needles arejust like turpentine to burn, so in less than two hours there wereseveral square miles of timber land afire. The mill and hundreds ofthousands of feet of sawed lumber were burned, and an area of many squaremiles stripped of every stick of wood, so far as value was concerned. "

"Did you see them fight it?" asked Phil. 

"No, I didn't see them, but I've heard them tell how they did it. "

"I was in a forest fire once, " said Mr. Allen. "It wasn't such an awfullybig one, but there was plenty of excitement while it did last, I tell youthat. "

"Tell us about it, " came in a chorus. 

"It's pretty hard to describe a forest fire, but it was a very excitingexperience. It was up not many miles from Mount Deception, while I wasstopping with a friend at Manitou Park. We were eating our Sunday dinner, when suddenly the door opened and in rushed the man from the adjoiningfarm. 

"'Fire, boys, ' he called. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, but we need you, andyou know the law. I'll have the buggy ready in a shake, and you beready. ' As he left, my friend cried, 'Come quick, Allen, into your oldclothes. ' 'Why, ' I said, 'we don't have to fight the forest fire, do we?'He laughed aloud. 'Well, you just bet we do!' he cried. 'The law saysthat every able-bodied man in reach of a forest fire must give hisservices. If a fire starts on Government land and burns onto privateland, Uncle Sam has to pay for all the private loss. But if it starts onprivate land and burns onto Government land, the land owner isresponsible. '

"I jumped into some old clothes, and was ready just as the buggy drove upto the door. The man handed me a big brown jug and told me to fill itwith drinking water. Off to the north we saw a great cloud of gray smokerising from the forest, but no flame. The farmer handed my friend thelines, told us to take the shortest route, and not to stop for anything, that he would follow on horseback in a few moments. I never shall forgethow the little mare did go that day. We drove north on a county roaduntil we got even with the smoke, then we turned in directly toward itthrough a very large potato field. After an hour's hard driving, we cameto the entrance of a narrow canyon. We tied the horse, and, with as manyshovels as I could carry on my shoulder, and with the jug, I followed myfriend, who had taken a couple of shovels and two heavy axes. It was asultry midsummer day, and how I did sweat!

"We hurried on, the smoke getting thicker and thicker, and still we couldsee no flames. We went up a long, narrow canyon in which there was a tinystream, and about every hundred yards we stopped to drink. By and by wecame to the top of a low ridge, and the farmer met us. 

"'Hurry, fellows, hurry!' he shouted. 'Give me a couple of those axes. Report to the first man you meet, and come home in the buggy when youcan. ' He swung his horse round, and in a moment was gone. I was tired outalready, and the jug of water was very heavy to carry by so small ahandle. As we got near the top of the ridge, we came to an old prospecthole. An idea struck me. I would leave the jug there by the hole, and itwould be easy to find when I wanted it, and I would hurry on with theshovels. As we reached the top of the ridge, the fire came into fullview. My, what a sight! A great sea of burning, crackling trees below, and above an ocean of heavy smoke, floating upward in great billows. Faraway, at least it seemed so to me, I heard chopping, chopping. I don'tknow how long I stood there wondering at the sight, but presently an oldman--he looked to me like a wild man, came toward me, eyeing me with ascornful look. 

"'Well, ye goin' to stand there all day with them implements, son?' Hemopped away the great beads of perspiration from his forehead with a bigblue bandanna handkerchief. A large Russian hound stood, panting, by hisside. Nearly a year afterwards I learned that the old man was no otherthan Old Ben himself. 

"'Where's that jug of water that Jim said ye was a bringin', ' he howledas he snatched the best shovel from my hands. I don't know what I said, but I know that he cursed me roundly and I started for the prospect holeto get the jug. I was excited to the limit. I came to the prospect hole, and the jug was gone. I was starting back when I came to another hole, then a third, then a fourth. I raised my eyes and surveyed the hillside. There were at least a hundred prospect holes. Which one did I leave thejug by? Was it lost, that precious jug of water? Would I ever find it?The great clouds of smoke drifted past me and darkened the landscape;then I began to hunt for the jug, one hole at a time. But I could find nojug. While I was searching all over the hill, up rode the farmer. Hecalled for me to follow him. I tried to explain to him that I was lookingfor the water, but I couldn't make him understand. When we got back tothe east of the fire, he handed me an ax and showed me what to do. Theywere cutting an aisle down the south ridge. There were great treescracking and crashing to the ground all along the line and all around me. I could not see more than a hundred feet ahead, but I worked like a Turk. O, but I thought my ax was dull and the tree hard! It seemed that I couldnever cut it through. I struck a heavy blow; there was a singing noise inthe air, and the head of my ax went flying somewhere into the brush. Iheard the farmer, chopping near me, yell something about a fool and agreenhorn. 

"'Go, bring the water, ' he yelled. I asked what water, and he yelledback, 'The jug, the brown jug. '

"I started again to find it. I don't know how long I looked, but byaccident I stumbled onto it. I raised it to my lips to drink, but thewater was warm and insipid. It made me feel faint. My head began to getdizzy and everything looked burned. I straightened up and went backtoward the fire. When I reached the farmer, he gave me his ax and startedoff with the jug. I chose my tree, and began to work. I had cut but one, and was started on another, when a dozen rugged, sweating men passed meon the run and shouted, 'Look out for the blast!' I dropped my ax andfollowed them. The earth shook under my feet, as one after the other Isaw mighty pine trees rise into the air a few feet, then crash headlongdown the mountain into the flames. The fire was coming nearer. O, such asight! The heat was intense, but the coloring was beautiful. I followedthe men, but one man tripped and fell; the others hurriedly picked himup, and we went onto a safe place. Then a hurried conference was held, and orders given to cut the underbrush in a great circle around thefire. By and by the wind changed, and soon the smoke cleared away fromwhere we were working. To my surprise, there were at least fifty sturdymen--mountain ranchmen, most of them--cutting the underbrush ahead of me, and just next to me worked Ben. 

"We worked on until dark. My friend found me, and we started for thebuggy. We got home some way--he drove. I was exhausted. That was my onlyforest fire experience, but I don't care for another. I was stiff andsore for a week. "

The little party worked its way into the gulch, and then proceeded up thecanyon on an old cattle trail in the second range. Every now and thenthey would pass a prospect hole, which showed that they were not, by anymeans, the first to tramp up the gulches and drink at the crystalstreams. On a great, flat stone, close by a tiny spring, they stopped toeat their dinner and rest. 

"Let's get as far as we can by night, " suggested Phil, "for we'll neverfind a cabin site here in this canyon. It's too far away. We'll have toget in closer, near St. Peter's Dome. "

"Let's make the Little Fountain by night. It must cross this canyon, andperhaps it will yield us a trout for breakfast. What do you say?"inquired Mr. Allen. 

"Little Fountain, or bust, " called Ham. "I'm in for it. Say, we ought tofind a few squirrels this afternoon up in this lonesome canyon. Asquirrel would taste pretty fine, stewed in a little rice, for supper. I'll bet I get the first one. "

"Got some salt in your pocket?" asked Willis. 

"Salt, what do I want with salt? Just keep your eye on me. I'mdead-shot at squirrels. "

"Hello, here, what's this?" called out Mr. Allen about the middle of theafternoon. "This looks interesting to me. See here, I've found a fewsmall pieces of aspen that have been cut by beaver. " He held them up forinspection. Sure enough, on the ends were the marks of the tiny chiselteeth of the little water workmen. "I'd certainly like to see a realbeaver dam. I've seen pieces of dams and old, wrecked dams, but never areal good one. Keep your eyes open for more sticks like this, and forstumps along the stream. This ought to be good beaver country, becauseit's wild and quiet. "

"What do you suppose killed all those fine big trees in that valley?"asked Willis. 

They turned aside to examine the great dead trees. 

"Hold on, there, " said Ham in a whisper, as he held up his finger. "There's my stew for to-night. Great Caesar's ghost! I'll bet these deadtrees are full of squirrels. Still, now, a moment. "

The squirrel sat for an instant in plain view on a dead limb of a spruce;then he barked and scampered around in great excitement, his tail bobbingup and down in time to his movements. He would run, hide behind the greattree trunk, then out again to jeer and scold and jerk his tail. As theycame nearer, a second one, perhaps his mate, joined him on the limb andseconded everything he had to say. The barrel of Ham's gun was makingstrange movements in the air. "Hey, there, sit still, you jumping jack, "called Ham. The squirrels sat up and listened to his voice in such a waythat it appeared they perfectly understood the order to sit still. Fatlaughed a hearty laugh; the squirrels took it as a danger signal and weregone. Ham lowered his gun. 

"Fat, you stole my supper right out of my mouth, " said Ham, gloomily. 

"Oho, " said Willis. "How do you suppose this happened? All of these bigtrees are girdled. See, the bark has been cut clear around the trunk withan ax, so as to cut off the supply of sap. Mr. Allen, what is yourexplanation?"

"Well, I'm not just sure about it, Willis. Some one may have killed themfor timber or some one may have girdled them so as to be able to start abig fire. It might have been the work of timber pirates. A man would geta mighty severe punishment for that, if he were caught. "

A little farther up the canyon they found traces of an old placer sluice, and what remained of some of the old, homemade cradles for panning outthe gold. 

"Gold, gold, gold; you find traces of it everywhere, and traces of themen who sought it. A sight like that always makes me sorry for some old, forlorn, disappointed miner, " said Mr. Allen. "Of all the dilapidated, blue-producing sights that I have ever seen, it's one of these old, deserted mining camps, for they come as near representing a forlorn hopeas anything you can find. 

"One time I was with a crowd of boys, and we made a detour to look over adeserted mining camp. They called it Old North Cripple Creek. Yearsbefore, shrewd individuals had salted prospect holes at that point, thendiscovered their own gold. Of course there was a grand rush, and a boomtown resulted. Crude houses were built, stores and saloons erected, andmining operations begun. A real, substantial log hotel was erected, andI've heard that their charge was upwards of ten dollars a night, payablein advance. 

"But the camp died as quickly as it had been born, and the people, mostlymen, pushed on to other fields. 

"It was a good many years after the place was deserted that I was there, but it made a tremendous impression upon me. I had the blues for daysafterward. Old, tumbled-down houses, the windows knocked out and thedoors hanging on leather hinges. I remember one building that had been asaloon. The great mirrors back of the bar had never been removed, and therains of many seasons had peeled the mercury from the plate glass and thegilt frames were faded. We entered the old hotel, and were surprised tofind some of the fittings still there. In the attic we found an old chestof letters--and, speaking of strange coincidences, a large number ofthose letters were written and signed by Daddy Wright. Away up in theback corner of the attic sat an old owl. He looked down on us from hisperch in a reproving manner, to think we would disturb the haunts of thepast in that crude way. He was a weird looking old fellow as he satthere, blinking his big yellow eyes, and I couldn't help thinking thatthe owl of wisdom perhaps a good many times might be found perched in thedark attics of the past, instead of spending his time in the sunlight ofthe great and active present. "

The afternoon passed, and soon the sun began to settle behind the westernpeaks. It was just six o'clock when the party came to the Little Fountainand chose their camping spot on a little green knoll of high ground, right by the water's edge. Some one suggested a dip, and so, in the quietcoolness of a perfect summer twilight, with a cheerful fire burning onthe bank, clothes were stripped and a bath taken. Then came the eveningmeal, the usual round of stories, the message from the letter of theGreat Spirit, then to sleep. 

As Willis and Mr. Allen lay watching the firelight and listening to thethousand sounds of the night, the night breeze began to rise and to singto them through the balsam boughs overhead. 

"Do you know what I think of when I lie out in the woods on such a nightand listen to the gentle sighing of the night wind?" asked Mr. Allen. 

"No, " replied Willis. "What do you think of?"

"It is kind of fanciful, I suppose, but I like to believe that it is Godblowing His breath down on us just to let us know that He is very nearand cares for us. " Willis did not answer; he was thinking. 

CHAPTER IX

The Third Day Out

The first gray streaks of dawn were just creeping over the ridge of oldCheyenne as Mr. Allen awoke. Up through the green leaves the bluest ofblue skies showed in tiny spots. It was an autumn morning, for a lightfrost had settled during the night, and here and there lay the ghost ofan aspen leaf that had flitted down. Everywhere the birds were chirpingand hustling about their morning duties. Here and there industriousspiders were at work removing the drops of silver dew from their shiningcables of silk, and the bees were already gathering the last of thesummer's sweets. The squirrels scolded and chattered to each other fromthe big trees. All the wild life of the woodland seemed at high tide. Thebutterflies were already at play in the cool, dewy nooks, and all naturewas rosy in the freshness of a new day. 

Mr. Allen dressed quietly but quickly, unbuckled his fishing rod from hispack, glanced through his fly book, selected one here and there, thenprepared to slip out of camp without waking any one. The little streamhad been whispering strange tales of big fish to him all the night, andit was trout for breakfast that he was after. A saucy squirrel, observinghim from a limb overhead, asked many foolish questions. Mr. Allen sat onan old moss-covered stump joining his rod and arranging his long, whiteleader, to which he had attached a royal coachman and a gray hackle. Hepaused to listen, for it seemed to him that every wild thing in thatvast, rocky gorge had suddenly raised its voice to welcome the comingday. 

Willis awoke and saw Mr. Allen as he sat there in the sunlight. In a softundertone he called, "I'm going, too, just to watch. May I?" Mr. Allennodded, and in a few moments the two were quietly sneaking off throughthe bushes, headed up stream. 

"My, O my! isn't this a perfectly gorgeous morning. Just look off theretoward Mount Rosa and Baldy. It's a perfect splendor of clouds and mistand sun; then look behind you, there, down through the big trees. It'sjust the morning to catch a fine big trout. "

"I never caught a trout in all my life, " softly called Willis, as hetrailed along behind. "I don't believe I've ever even seen one. "

"Many and many are the days I've fished in these old hills for a dozen;but a prouder fisherman never cast a fly than myself, when I could comehome to camp, spread out my little catch of speckled beauties on thegrass, and tell just how I caught each one. "

"Is it more fun than casting for big black bass on a clear, warm, summernight? Lots of times I've seen the big fellows leap out of the water, then in again with a splash, making big rings of ripples on the smoothwater. O, it's great! Can your trout fishing beat that?"

"Every man after his own heart, " replied the "Chief, " "but for me, giveme the trout. You rise early on such a morning as this and slip off intothe canyon. Far away on all sides rise the mountain peaks, their snowcaps jauntily adjusted and their cloaks of ice drawn close about theirshoulders. Then the balsam-scented air, and the dew-laden bushes alongthe chattering little stream as it flows over a chaos of broken graniteor works itself into a boiling froth, only to jump headlong into a quietgreen pool. Can you beat it?"

"Isn't that a good pool just ahead of us?" questioned Willis. 

"I'm going to try it, " replied Mr. Allen. "Now, be sure to keep that bigboulder just ahead between you and the water, for if they see us firstthere's no use wasting our time here, we'll never get a strike to-day. "

Slowly they crept to the great, bare rock. Here the line and flies wereadjusted, and the fishing began. Willis watched every motion as for abrief second the fly was allowed to drift down the stream, "to be floatedhere and there by idle little eddies, to be sucked down, then suddenlyspat out by tiny suction holes;" then it fell quietly into the currentand floated out to the end of the line, bringing up sharply just at theedge of a bleak old granite boulder in midstream. Again the flies werecast, and again; then--both hearts stood still; there was a splash, alittle line of bubbles, a tail, a silver streak tinged with red andblack, then ripples, and nothing more. 

"He's there, anyway, " softly whispered Willis in great excitement. 

The line was drawn in and inspected; the hackle was removed from theleader, and again the coachman spatted the water just above where thetrout had disappeared. It floated down and down until it touched theswirl at the edge of the jagged rock. There was a short, sharp tug; thefly disappeared into the water; a plunge, a dash of spray, theneverything kept time to the singing of the reel. Both jumped to theirfeet just in time to see the big trout clear the water, shake his headvigorously, then dive into the deep pool. It was to be a fight to thefinish, and the trout had settled to the cool bottom to lay out hiscampaign. 

After ten minutes of maneuvering in the water, up and down, out to thebank, then in again, knee deep, waist deep, the line slacked a little, then a little more. Then there was a series of quick jerks and a longsinging of the reel as it unwound, only to slacken again, and this timefor good. There was a silvery streak in the water, then a dark, movingshadow, a gentle pull of the winding line, and the trout slipped out ofthe water onto the bank, exhausted. 

There was an exclamation of joy and wonder from Willis as the fish wascarefully unhooked and placed in the cotton bag, brought for the purpose. 

"Just eighteen inches, and a beauty, " cried Mr. Allen. "You'll never getme away from this stream this morning if there are more fish like this tobe had. We have just time to catch another like him, then we can all havea taste for breakfast. What will those fellows think when they wake upand find us gone?"

They clambered over a rough crag and down to a second green pool. It wasnot a big fish this time, but several small ones in quick succession, till there was a taste for all in camp. 

"I hope the fellows will have a fire going, so we won't have to wait solong for a bed of coals, don't you?" asked Willis. "I can taste themalready. Is the meat pink or white?"

"O, surely Ham will have a fire; he's enough of a camper for that, andthey are expecting us to bring fish. I'll tell you, let's leave the bagin the bushes and tell them a sad tale of woe. I'm still wet, and we'lllet on a big one pulled me in and I lost all the others. What do yousay?"

"That's a go. You get up the story and I'll swear to it. Make it a bigone. "

Soon the smell of smoke came drifting through the bushes, and they knewthat their return was being patiently awaited. Fat spied them comingfirst. 

"Well, old sea-dogs, where's your catch?" he shouted. 

"Hard luck, " started in Mr. Allen. "Just plain hard luck; caught a fewminnows, but slow as far as real fishing goes. There's nothing in ithere. Where's Ham?"

"O Ham!" snorted Phil from his place by the fire. "Crazy, lunatic Ham. I'd like to see you get him into any kind of a fix he couldn't get outof. When we woke up and found you gone, Ham declared you'd played a trickon him, and he's gone off to get even. "

"How do you mean, get even?"

"He wanted to go with you this morning, so he went out and found yourtrack going up stream. He came back to camp, got your fly book, cut him awillow pole, and started off down stream to beat you fishing. He's beengone most an hour and a half now. "

"Well, he won't have to fish much to beat me, that's sure; but he oughtto be getting back soon, so we can get started. "

"Fishie, fishie, in the brook, Hammie caught him with a hook, "

came drifting into camp from somewhere on the trail. Soon Ham came intoview, a cotton flour sack thrown over his shoulder and a broad grin onhis face. He had left his pole in the thicket. 

"Fish, fish, fish--little, big, and in between, " he cried as he waved thebag in front of him. "I've never had such fishing. "

"Hurrah for the fisherman, " called Chuck, as he came through the treeswith a half-dozen small pails in his hands. "Ham gets the fish, I get theberries, and we all get the stomach-ache, see?"

"Let's look at the fish" shouted every one. 

"Bet they are only minnies, " cried Phil. 

"Minnies, your grandmother, " scornfully replied Ham. "I have one therethat's a foot and a half long if it's an inch. The others aren't so big. "He emptied the contents of the bag on the ground and stood proudly overthem, a merry twinkle in his eye. 

Willis nudged Mr. Allen. "He's found our bag of fish, but don't tell. "Mr. Allen arose, and, holding up the big fish by the tail, said, "Ham, you're the only original fisherman. That's the very fellow that pulled mein and came near drowning me. " Ham hurried off to the stream to clean thecatch and to laugh over his cleverness. Breakfast was a thoroughlyenjoyed meal that morning, for, besides the fish and the sweet wildberries, there were just enough fish stories told to give the real thingthe proper seasoning. 

"I'd rather sit on those big boulders along Goose Creek, just where itempties into the backwaters of Cheeseman Dam, and catch a few big fellowslike that one than to take an extended trip to Europe, " solemnly declaredHam. 

"I'd rather fish in the Narrows of Platte Canyon and pull out a fine bigrainbow every now and then than ride in a New York subway, " added Chuck. 

"And I'd rather see Mr. Allen catch _another_ big trout like that oneyou're eating, " remarked Willis, with a wink at Mr. Allen, "than to catchall the bass in the State of Michigan. "

By nine o'clock the party was again on the trail, traveling northwestaround the base of Black Mountain. 

"It's going to be a scorcher, " exclaimed Fat. "I'm about melted already. I hope they haven't shipped that bear away from Cather Springs yet. I'dlike to see it. They caught it in a bear trap last week. There is hardlya season goes by, any more, but what they get some kind of wild game. Last year it was a big mountain lion, the year before it was abadly-wounded mountain sheep, this year it was a bear and two cubs. "

"That lion must have been the one that followed Ham up Pike's Peak. Howabout it, Ham?" said Mr. Allen teasingly. Ham did not reply. The smiledisappeared from his face, and he dropped to the back of the line. "Ham, won't you tell us that story some time?" urged Mr. Allen. "I've neverheard the real story, and I'd like to know about it. "

"I've forgotten every detail, Mr. Allen, " said Ham, "and I've forgottenthem for good. It wasn't nearly as big a joke as every one supposed, though, I'll tell you that. I'll never come any nearer to handing in myheavenly passport and not do it than I did that time. Let's forget it. Itbrings back unpleasant thoughts. "

At noon they camped in the shadow of a great overhanging rock and rested. Fat found, upon opening his pack, that he had left what remained of hisloaf of bread at the last camping place, along with two cans of milk anda box of raisins. 

"The oracle is coming true, " dryly remarked Ham. "It always does, if it'sinterpreted properly. Fat, the swine of carelessness have consumed yourliving. "

By three o'clock the party reached Cather Springs, which was nothing butthe home of an old mountaineer--a quaint little log cabin, a barn, and acorral, in which stood two very patient, tired-looking donkeys and alarge, raw-boned mountain horse. A little to one side of the cabin stoodthe spring house--a low, rustic affair, built of young trees. A slab-doorstood slightly ajar, and through the opening there came the voice of awoman, softly singing to herself. A thin column of gray smoke was curlinggently from the rough stone chimney. At one side of the house, in theshade of a great pine tree, was nestled a little flower garden that gaveevery sign of having had careful attention each day. On the back stoopwas stretched out, at full length, a husky Collie dog. He was evidentlyasleep, for he did not stir as the boys came down the trail toward thepicturesque little cabin. 

"Great Caesar's ghost!" exclaimed Ham. "Take a peep at a few of thosejay-birds. I never saw so many in my life. I'll bet the lady feeds them. Watch me knock that saucy fellow off that dead limb. "

He raised his gun and shot. There was an awful scolding, jabbering, andflapping of wings, but no deaths--fortunately for Ham. The dog came tolife in less than a second, and expressed himself freely on theimprudence of such an interruption to his mid-day nap. Likewise, thespring-house door suddenly opened and out popped a funny, little oldlady. 

"Boys, boys!" she called in a high, quavering voice, "don't shoot theblue jays. It does beat all how right-down destructive all boys are, anyway--shooting poor, harmless little birds for sport. " The jays, onhearing the familiar voice of their benefactress, began to alight in twosand threes close by, and approved her every word with as much vigor astheir tiny throats could command. The little old lady came straighttoward Ham. 

"Young man, " she cried, as she shook her long, bony finger in his face, "young man, who ever gave you the right to come into this beautifulwilderness to maraud and murder and kill such beauties as them jays thatGod has put in these woods to be companions and friends to us lonelymountain folks? Who do you s'pose built this here canyon and that greenmeadow and this little spring and these hills, and all the little wildfolks as lives in 'em? I should think you would hang your head and looklike a whipped puppy if ye're little enough to shoot jay-birds, just tosee the blue feathers a flutterin' in the air. 'Pon my soul, you huntersis beyon' my understandin'. S'pose that bird you shot has a nest, which, like as not, she has, an' it's full o' little fuzzy balls o' bird fleshthis minute, all mouths an' stomachs, a waitin' for their mother to bringsupper, an' they just keep a waitin' an' a waitin' till they starve, cause you was mean enough to kill the mother bird just for fun. " Ham'shat had long since come off, and he stood with downcast eyes, not knowingwhat to say. The old lady looked him up and down with a look of abjectpity and scorn as she went on:

"Didn't you ever stop to consider how many things the Almighty has putinto these hills to love, young man, if you ain't too selfish an' proudan' mean to see 'em? I wonder what He thinks of a boy like you, anyway?You're like a demon sneakin' through a wonderful picture gallery acuttin' holes in the pictures just for fun. I know every jay in thisvalley, young man, every single one--and they know me. When food getsscarce, an' cold nights come, an' snow begins to fall, I feed 'em. They understand all I say to 'em, an' they bring their young ones for meto see as quick as they're big enough. They tell me when it's goin' tostorm, an' when a hawk is flyin' over my chicken pen, an' when berries isripe, an' when strangers is comin'. They're my little family; I care for'em every day an'--" The flood gates were opened. The little old ladycried as if her heart would break, while the jays gossiped and chatteredat the unusual uproar. 

Suddenly she turned and went into the house, and the boys, without aword, quietly passed up the trail and into the flat, green meadow ahead. Ham whistled softly to himself as he strode along. 

"Beats the Dutch, " he said to Mr. Allen, as the two dropped backtogether, "how a fellow will forget himself now and then. I'd have donejust what she did, only I would have gotten mad instead of just feelingbad. I'm mighty thankful I didn't kill that bird. "

"What a great joy these simple out-of-doors people get out of nature, "replied Mr. Allen. "I'd give half my college education to be able tosee and hear and understand the things that little old lady does in theseold hills. Every time a bird chirps or a squirrel barks she knows whatit says. I think the Master must have been thinking of some such apure-hearted body as she when He told the people that the poor in spiritwould inherit the earth. She doesn't go out in society much, nor shehasn't any party dresses, nor probably never saw a grand opera in herlife; but see what she has that most people never get. "

In a few moments more they had crossed the little meadow, climbed upthrough a zigzag trail through the trees, and came out onto the railroadtrack, just where it crossed the stage road. Directly in front of themrose the crag-tipped cap of St. Peter's Dome. On one hand was the oldwagon road, that first pathway of mountain civilization, winding down thecanyon in long, graceful curves until it was lost in the distant haze, while on the other hand ran the steel rails of more modern civilization. 

As they stood resting for a few moments they heard the rumble of heavywheels, a wheezing and puffing, a shrill whistle, a cloud of black smoke, a shower of cinders, and the evening express passed upward into the cool, dark shadows, carrying its load of human necessities into the heart ofthe Rockies. 

It was six o'clock when the last one in the party reached the ricketywooden stairs that made the last ascent of a hundred feet to the Domepossible. Ham and Willis had been on top for some minutes, and weresitting on a huge boulder just at the foot of a lodge-pole that had beenerected on the very summit for a flagstaff. Certainly it was a sight tobe remembered for many a day--a marvelous wonderland, stretching out inevery direction. The detail of plants, trees, and winding trails wasswallowed up, and only the vastness of the valleys and canyons could beseen, with here and there a silver ribbon of a stream. Far up in the bluevault two great eagles soared and circled. Here and there the last goldenrays of sunlight fell on the distant ridges and lighted up the tree topswith a beautiful iridescence. 

"What a sight!" exclaimed Willis. "Now, where is Cookstove Mountain, forI am especially interested in it. O yes, I see it. It's that greatgranite cliff that is so flat on the top. Wouldn't it be grand if wecould build a cabin near St. Peter's Dome, so sometimes in the evening wecould climb up here to sit and watch the stars come out? I want to be inthe mountains and camp in them and hike in them. I am beginning tounderstand their charm more and more. I know now what it is that Old Benhas, and Daddy Wright, and the little old lady we saw this afternoon, that I have not. It is a big optimism, a love for everything that livesand is a part of the Great Creation. "

"I don't know of anything that will take the selfishness and conceit outof a fellow like a few hours spent on a mountain top, " said Mr. Allen. 

"It makes a fellow right down glad he's alive, " remarked Ham. "I alwaysget more out of a view like this than I do out of the best sermon I everheard. "

"I wish we could camp right here, " exclaimed Chuck; "but we can't, and wehad better be getting down before dark. "

Just at the base of the Dome a little stream trickled over the rocks anddown into the canyon. They followed it back from the railroad and soonhad a cheery fire burning and a comfortable camp made for the night. Itwas in a little meadow just at the edge of a grove of small aspens, andat one side of the tiny stream lay a great round boulder that hadevidently rolled down from the summit of the Dome at some previous date. Beds were arranged in a row along the side of it, and a pile of deadsticks placed in a convenient position for the night's fire. The eveningbreezes were already beginning to play hide-and-seek in the valley, andthe leaves on the trees were clapping their innumerable hands in applauseat the brightly-burning fire. The sparks flew upward and the shadowsdanced in and out of the illuminated circle like so many happy fairies. 

"Do you hear it, fellows? There, now, listen! Don't you hear it?" Ham wassaying as he sat back from the fire. "There it is, calling, calling!"

"What is calling?" asked Willis, straining his ear to catch the sound. 

"Mother Nature, " answered Ham, dryly. "Mother Nature's call--the callof the wild. See, even the leaves are beckoning us back farther into thedeep, quiet wilderness. Some day I will part with my earthly possessionsand answer that call, for, do you know, I believe that the Indian didcome the nearest to living an ideal life of any of us!"

Every one knew that Ham was in for a long, private soliloquy, and sobegan supper operations, for, although they had all heard the call ofMother Nature, as Ham put it, to some of them at least it was only anempty stomach calling to be fed. 

Mr. Allen and Willis were the last ones to take to their blankets, forthey had many things to talk over between themselves. 

What can draw out the innermost thoughts of a fellow's heart more quicklythan a chat with a sympathetic friend when both are seated before a firein such a place and on such a night? If you really wish to know a fellowin a few days' time, you need to camp with him, to eat with him, and tosit with him before an open fire in the wilderness under a canopy ofstars with the music of Nature about you. Then man speaks with man, andall the conventionalities of life are forgotten. 

"Yes, I have often wondered if I will ever find my father's partner, "Willis was saying. "I would rather see him than any man on earth, sometimes. "

"Wouldn't you be happier if you didn't ever find him, though?" questionedMr. Allen. 

"No, I wouldn't, Mr. Allen, because he could explain so many things to methat I have wondered about. I don't know that I ever told you, but it hasalways seemed so strange to me that my uncle, Mr. Williams, has neveronce mentioned my father's name to me. He was the last man that saw himalive, yet he has never spoken of him. I have been going to talk withhim several times, but he is so gruff and absorbed I can't get up mynerve. There is one thing that has bothered me a lot lately, though, andI've never told you of it, but I'm going to now. I probably never wouldhave thought much about it if it hadn't been for what the old prospectortold me the other day over on Cheyenne. I've been wondering if therepossibly could be any connection between his not wanting me to come onthis trip and the fact that he was just then sending men to do hisassessment work on the claim that once belonged to my father. 

"There is another thing, too, Mr. Allen. I feel ashamed of even thinkingof such things, yet the night we had our meeting at Bruin Inn I heardthat same prospector discussing a Mr. Williams with Old Ben. I heard himsay that Williams was a thief and a sanctimonious old hypocrite. Thething that bothers me is, how much does Williams know of my father'saffairs that he has not told my mother. Surely he would not dare to becrooked in such a thing as that. "

"If you could locate Mr. Kieser, he probably could tell you some things, "slowly added Mr. Allen. "Well, there is one thing sure: 'Murder willout, ' and with the suspicion I now have, I'll keep quiet, keep my eyesopen, and see what I can learn. That Cheyenne claim must be worthholding, or he wouldn't send men away up there to do that work. Thatcosts money!"

"Don't worry about it, anyway, boy. I wouldn't be building any aircastles concerning that gold mine. It was, no doubt, just like thousandsof others here in these mountains--"

"I know that, but I want to see the mine that my father dug. Do yousuppose I ever will?"

"Who can tell but that you have already seen it on this trip? I don'tknow, but let's go to bed. To-morrow we must find that cabin site, or gohome empty-handed. I think we'll get over into these little canyons onthe north and work over to the railroad. If we don't find a place there, somewhere, then I'm afraid there is none. Most all of this land is ForestReserve, and we'll have to get a ninety-nine years' lease if we locate onGovernment land; but you know, I've been thinking we could build a dandycabin of these large quaking-aspens, if we could find a place in a goodgrove. Build a frame, then fit them in, standing them on end, and linewith building paper, and perhaps boards. These aspens cut very easily inthe winter when they are cold. What would you think of that idea?"

Willis was already nodding by the fire, and did not answer. 

"Good-night, " said Mr. Allen, as he pulled his blanket up about him. "Sleep tight, and no dreams, mind you. "

CHAPTER X

A Glimpse of Buffalo Roost

The little party gathered about the fire the next morning, cooking thelast breakfast of the trip. To-morrow they would be home again. Wouldthey take back a glowing description of a cabin site, situated in somecool forest nook, in the shadow of some mighty crag, or would they beforced to disappoint the anxious crowd of fellows who would be waitingfor their return?

By seven o'clock they were jogging down the railroad at a lively gait, keeping their eyes open for a canyon that would lead in back of CookstoveMountain. They had come down the track at least two miles without findingany encouraging signs when they came upon a trail that seemed to leadfrom the railroad into an unknown canyon. Perhaps it was one of the manytrails from the railroad back to the remains of some of the oldconstruction camps. Perhaps it was a cowpath that led into a fertilemeadow where cattle loved to rest by cool springs. Might it not have beenthe connecting link between some old prospector's diggings and his pointof supplies? Possibly it had been worn by the ever-watchful forest rangeras he rode over the reserve, watching for the fires of careless campers, the trespass of cattle, or, perhaps, to make a timber sale to somemountain ranchman. Perhaps it was one of these, but more likely it was acombination of them all. What strange stories it could tell if it couldbut speak! Had it been on the southern slope it might have been lost inthe cool shadows of the forest, or have disappeared in the leafy moldsand decaying twigs of many autumns. But it was on the north slope, fromwhich the hungry flames of a giant forest fire had snatched every treeand bush, leaving only the barren hillside. 

It was a very alluring trail, for it led to no one knew just where. Justat the point where it slipped over the rocky ridge and dropped down outof sight into the canyon beyond there rose a group of great, tall pines, which seemed to be guarding the pathway. Just ahead stood Cookstove, itsrocky crest bathed in the morning light, while far away to the north thesharper outlines were lost in a great army of evergreens, which seemed tobe trooping restlessly up the hill and descending again into the greatunknown of the valley. It led straight away down a gently-curving aisleof beautiful large trees that had already begun to carpet the floor withdull pine needles, picked from their shaggy heads by the mischievousdryads of the valley. Away up on the shoulder of Cookstove could be seena long silver ribbon of water, the lower end of which was lost in thetreetops of the canyon. From somewhere down below the trail there camethe gentle murmur of jubilant little dashes of mountain spray as theyfrolicked and chased each other in the happy play of a mountain stream. On the inside of the trail the trees dropped away rapidly until you couldlook into their topmost branches without raising your eyes, while on theother side they trooped noiselessly upward, like some great, silent army, showing only their weather-beaten bodies. 

As the boys hastened down this trail, deeper into the land ofenchantment, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

"I've about changed my mind about the location of the Garden of Eden, "Ham sung out. 

"That's the twentieth time, " announced Chuck. 

"We're just on the edge of it yet, " shouted Mr. Allen. "Let's hurry andget into it. "

The trail began immediately to descend, and before they knew it the partyfound themselves beside a crystal stream that seemed to be lost in anarrow park of great trees and mighty boulders. The trail crossed thestream by an ancient corduroy bridge, then off it ran again up theopposite side of the canyon, penetrating deeper into the quiet forest. 

"This is the forest primeval, The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, "

quoted Ham. There was a perfume of the forest dampness in the air. Everytree seemed to shelter a bird family or a host of squirrels, to saynothing of the tiny creatures that made chorus together from their hidingplaces. Softly filtering through the trees came the constant melody of awaterfall, now far away, now just ahead, crying, laughing, sobbing, in astrange intermingling of feeling. 

The trail made a sharp turn to the left, the trees suddenly came to anend, and in their place were large piles of mossy, ragged boulders. Thecanyon ended in a perpendicular, moss-covered wall, hundreds of feethigh, and from the top of this wrinkled old cliff leaped the stream intothe canyon below. On an old tin sign, fastened to the stump of an immensetree, were the words, "St. Marys. " Directly at the base of the falls, andat their extreme edge, stood a grand old spruce tree, straight and cleanas an arrow, its slender top reaching nearly to the top of the falls. They seemed to be happy comrades, for the tree was gently vibrating withthe soft, half-wild music of the crystal stream. 

After every nook and cranny had been explored, the group began to retracetheir steps down the canyon. 

"Isn't it a wonderful little spot?" asked Phil, as they sat down by thebridge to rest. "Who do you suppose ever built this trail away up here?See, it has been dug from the very mountain-side in many places, and thisbridge wasn't built as a mere footbridge--it was built to support heavyloads of something. "

"Perhaps somewhere way up in those trees there is an old mine, " suggestedFat. 

"I've been wondering if there was, " slowly questioned Willis. "I'd liketo go and look, for I'm not a bit tired. " His eyes were big with thewonder of the place. 

"It surely is a treat to him, isn't it?" asked Mr. Allen. 

"Yes, and to us all, " replied Ham. "I just wonder what some city peoplewould think of it. When I get old, fellows, I'm going to find me somesuch a little canyon as this and live out my life in it. I don't believea fellow could ever think a mean thought out here, could he? He'd bealmost afraid to. "

"It's an ideal place, all right, " returned Mr. Allen. 

"Why, I believe I'd be an orator if I just had this valley for a class, "went on Ham. 

"It's a good thing such places can't be moved, " suggested Phil, "or someof these wealthy fellows would be buying them all up and putting them intheir art galleries. This view would create quite a sensation in New YorkCity, don't you think? Fifty thousand dollars is not much for a few feetof masterpiece, but this can be had for a few dollars an acre. Strange, isn't it?"

"A man paints a little picture on a canvas and worries over it until hishair gets long and his face sad. He is then a genius. People go wild overa man that can copy a little scene. Yet those same people declare thereis no Creator. Account for a valley like this without Him, can you?"declared Fat. 

"The man that can deny Him, standing here in this little bit of Hishandiwork, " solemnly declared Ham, "is blind, deaf, and dumb, besideshaving marked tendencies toward insanity. "

"Halloo, " came in a clear shout from up on the hillside. 

"By gracious, he's found a mine!" cried Ham, jumping up. 

"Halloo, " he shouted back. "What did you find?"

"Two more trails, " came the answer. "Come up and look. One goes down thecanyon on this side. " A wild scramble up through the trees followed. Soonthey were all traveling down one of the newly-discovered trails. Theother one began at an old log cabin, and ran zigzag up the mountain tillit was lost in the gravel slopes. 

"I've been trying to make up my mind where this canyon leads to, " saidMr. Allen. "I'm wondering if it can be Buffalo Park. "

A bridge was visible down the stream, and there was the sound of watersplashing. An immense boulder that had rolled from the cliff aboveobstructed any further view. Ham and Willis were in the lead, the restfollowing as rapidly as possible. The two ahead disappeared, then cameinto view beyond the big boulder. 

"A house!"

"A cabin!" Every one broke into a run. Just above the bridge a crude damof logs had been built to back up a supply of water, and it was runningover from the little pond behind in a happy, babbling waterfall. Then itturned to the south around the base of a patch of high ground. On thisbit of high country, overlooking the stream on one side and the uppercanyon on the other, stood the loudly-announced cabin. 

It was a typical mountain log-house, except for its roof, which wascovered with cedar shingles instead of the customary split poles, thatched over with marsh hay. Its every line suggested age. In someplaces the mud chinking had dried and dropped out, yet, strange to say, the windows were all there, and even the door, which was of citymanufacture, was not past repair. One corner of the roof had beenslightly damaged by the falling of a monstrous pine log that was stilllying where it had fallen several years before. 

The cabin had evidently been used as a summer home only, for there was nofireplace or a chimney of any kind, except a dilapidated old length ofstovepipe that stuck through the gable at one end. It was this featurethat made it look so completely forlorn and abandoned. Besides the doorand two windows that opened on the trail side, there was a window onthe up end and a door on the stream side which led out onto a crude backporch, built entirely of aspen poles. The floor was of pine boards, andhad once been a marvel of beauty and convenience for a mountain cabin;but time had played strange pranks with it, till now it was uneven andsloped off in a jerky fashion toward the back door. On one wall wasfastened a rude set of shelves, on which was perched a motley collectionof pickle bottles and tin cans. Stretched along one wall stood a crude, home-made table, and in one corner stood the remains of a little, old-fashioned stove. A wooden chest stood under the shelves, and hadprobably been used for a grub box. It still contained a few pounds ofyellow cornmeal, half a can of baking powder, a badly molded loaf of ryebread, and a surprisingly sturdy sample of butter. Hung on a nail in thecorner above the chest was a once-stylish skillet and the battered lowerpart of a double boiler. A rusty tincup lay on the floor beside a powdercan that had been used for a bucket, while just inside the south doorstood a comical homemade shakedown. The frame was built of straight youngaspen poles, while the springs were just a carefully woven layer ofbalsam boughs spread over a bottom of limber young saplings. It had oncebeen a wonder of comfort and ease, but its value had passed with thedeparture of its builder. 

The trail ran close in front of the door and then climbed over the sandybase of a great crag, and disappeared over the hill. Just as it left thelevel of the house and started upward, there stood an immense Douglasspruce like some faithful guard, his proud green helmet stretched up intothe sky so that he might be the more able to see any approaching danger. A great smoke-stained rock lay just at the end of the house, before whichwas built a primitive fireplace. An assortment of tin cans, lying in thelittle ravine, told the simple tale of bygone campfire suppers and ofhunters and explorers and miners. 

"Well, this is what I call luck--pure, unadulterated luck, with sugar onit, " drawled Ham as he surveyed the house. 

"Luck, your grandmother, " said Phil. "Do you call something that you havebeen searching for for four long days luck?"

"Excuse me, " answered Ham, in mock courtesy. "I forgot when I made thatstatement that there is no such thing as luck. It was my old friend, 'William Shakespeare, ' that wrote that famous line about luck, 'Luck ispluck in action, ' or something like that, wasn't it? That's what it washere, anyway. "

"Well, at any rate, " said Mr. Allen, as he joined the group after hisround of inspection, "the old shanty is chucked full of possibilities. "

"I'm glad something is full, " interrupted Fat. "We certainly aren't inthe same class, that cabin and I. It's been so long since I've fed thatmy floating ribs have run ashore. The worst of it is that all I have leftis a can of condensed milk, about a teaspoon of sugar, and a littlebutter that's a second cousin to what's in that grub box yonder. I'mgoing to borrow a few possibilities from the cabin and beg for food. Let's have dinner. "

"Right here by this old rock, " called Willis. "Perhaps we can roast alittle information out of these rocks. "

Chuck had gone down stream into a grove of large aspens, and at thismoment came panting up the trail. 

"Bees--peach of a tree--honey galore--millions of them!" he panted. 

"That sounds like something to eat, " cried Fat. "Come along, Chuck, I'mwith you. Do you know how to make that 'milk and honey' that the GoodBook speaks about? I've got the milk, let's get the honey. " Ham, Chuck, and Fat started for the bee tree, Ham singing his favorite, "A Preacherwent a Huntin'. "

"Better let up, Ham, " shouted Phil. "The bees will be after the sweetnessin that melody of yours. "

Phil stretched out at full length in the sun while Mr. Allen busilymade figures and sketches in his note book. Willis rose and starteddown the trail toward the bee tree. At the edge of the timber he stopped, and a curious smile spread over his face. Then suddenly, as the realsignificance of what he saw dawned upon him, he doubled up with a howland laughed till his sides hurt. 

The fellows were unable to roll over the great dead tree, so had decidedto "smudge the brutes out, " as Ham said. Accordingly, they built a fireat the side where the bees had been seen to enter the tree. Chuck hadcarried water from the stream in his hat to make the fire smoke, and, asthey watched the hole, the bees came swarming out at the end of the logbehind them, "with spears sharpened and ready for action, " as Hamafterward said. Such lively gymnastics and hurried departures Willis hadnever before witnessed. Fat completely forgot that he was hungry, and Hamtook occasion to severely chastise himself, using his old felt hat for apaddle, while Chuck went ploughing through the underbrush like a youngbull-moose, murmuring strange, inarticulate sentences. Fortunately forthem all, the bee tree was nothing but a nest of marsh-wasps, and therewere nowhere near as many as Chuck declared there were. The damage wasslight to all except Fat, and he had enough signs of battle to warrant aleather medal for bravery. The saddest thing was that the hoped-for "milkand honey" did not materialize. 

As the party sat together eating the last of their rations, Ham fell intoone of his philosophical moods. 

"I like this kind of life, " he began. "Out here you let go your hold onman-made things and shift for yourself. " He looked cautiously over atFat, who was trying to scratch a particularly itchy sting just out ofreach in the middle of his back. "I like the unchanging condition ofnature, " he continued. "The wilderness is all yours, and you may takefrom it all the essentials of primitive living--shelter, warmth, andfood. "

"Ham, you're an unmitigated prevaricator, " cried Fat as he scratched andmade faces. Ham paid no attention to him. "Here in the open country youcan get mighty close to the great wilderness with its myriads of busylives, and--" Fat picked up a pine cone and threw it, but Ham disappearedaround the end of the big rock. 

"Ham, you're just like the loons we have on the Michigan lakes, " tauntedWillis. "You can do and say more crazy things than all the rest of usducks put together; but when any one takes a shot at you, you're out ofsight. "

By this time Fat had managed to make two holes in his can of milk and wasdrinking the contents. Mr. Allen had returned to his sketching, andWillis had gone over to the little dam to get a drink. Suddenly there wasthe snort of a horse and the rapid tramping of hoofs. A dog gave twoor three barks, then horse, rider, and dog appeared on the trail. In asecond another rider, with a pick and shovel thrown over his shoulder, came over the ridge. The first pulled in his horse and, turning in hissaddle, looked to see if his companion was coming. Being confident thathe was not far behind, he again urged his horse forward, apparently notnoticing the group by the big boulder. Ham got to his feet and spoke tothe dog. The horseman gave a quick exclamation of surprise, then calledout, "Howdy!" Mr. Allen rose. 

"Well, well!" called the man. "Seems to me yew fellers are travelin'some, ain't ye?"

"O, a little, " returned Mr. Allen. 

"You don't happen to know, do you, whether there are two cabins abovehere, do you? We was directed to the middle cabin. "

"No, only a very badly decayed one--just a pile of tumbled-down logs, "replied Mr. Allen. The second rider had come up and dismounted, andtogether they studied a sketch which he had taken from his pocket. 

"This must be the one, that's all, " he drawled, as he spat out a greatquid of tobacco, "'cause he said it was by the bridge. We must o' missedthe other cabin in the trees somewhere below here. "

Willis was eyeing the newcomers closely. A stern, hard look crossed hisface as he quickened his pace. He reached Mr. Allen's side, and the firstrider nodded to him. He drew nearer and observed the sketch very closely, listening intently to all the strangers had to say. His heart was beatingfast, but just why he could not have told. 

"Well, Jim, I guess we'd better unsaddle an' give the nags a drink an' arest, " said the stranger as he carefully folded up the sketch and put itin his pocket. "Seems strange as how we'd meet twice in these mountainsin nearly as many days, don't it?" remarked the man, as he began toloosen the saddle girths and to untie the sacks of grub that werefastened on behind. 

"How is that?" queried Mr. Allen. 

"Why, wasn't it you that went up the trail to the top of Cheyenne theother day?" questioned the man. Then, without waiting for a reply, hewent on: "We was doin' an assessment up there that day an' seed you asyou stood talkin' to that crusty old prospector that works that tunnel. "

"O yes, " said Mr. Allen, "so you are the men that were up there by thatblack dump?"

"Yep, we're the fellers, Jim an' me. "

"Are you going to do more assessment work here in this canyon?"questioned Ham. 

"Yep, we've got two assessments to do here somewhere, " returned thestranger. "This canyon, or at least part of it, belongs to a real estatecompany in Colorado Springs. I don't believe there is any gold here, butthey are holdin' the property as an investment. Seems like they expectsometime to open this canyon to tourist trade to see some swell fallsthat's up in it somewheres. "

"O, is that so?" returned Mr. Allen. "Then you don't think there is anygold here at all?"

"Nope, I don't, an' I'll tell ye why. Gold, as it's found in these parts, runs in a strata of quartz. Now, there ain't no quartz in this range, except on Cheyenne. The old-timer down at the inn says that there's goldup here, an' he knows where it is, but you can't take no stock in theseold fellers. They're daft on the gold question. "

Mr. Allen looked at his watch, then, turning to the fellows, he suggestedthat they had better start for home. After a little more conversation thetwo parties separated, one to camp for the night in the cabin, the otherto return to the city. 

Willis motioned Mr. Allen to the back of the line as they worked theirway down the trail and into the park. 

"The plot thickens, " began Willis, with a queer little smile on his face. Then with a slight chuckle he added: "To be more accurate, I suppose Ishould say 'The plot thins. ' Those are the two men that were at myuncle's house the morning we started on this trip, and my uncle drew thatsketch--I'm sure of it. The heading was torn from the paper, but I feelit in my bones that he was the artist. Those are the men that were doingthe assessment on my father's old claim on Cheyenne for my uncle. Henever dreamed of my seeing them here and knowing they were in his employ. I understand now why he didn't want me to come on this trip. A coward isalways suspicious. I never would have put the two together in the wideworld if he hadn't made such a fuss about my coming. One thing isabsolutely certain--my Uncle Williams is crooked, and that isn't all, either. My Uncle Williams owns that cabin, and we'll never get it for ouruse in this wide world. What will the fellows say when they know itbelongs to my uncle and we can't get it? The cabin is ideal, and it couldbe repaired with very little cost. It is isolated and in a beautifulspot, and is the only thing we have found. Don't tell the fellows aboutit, please, until I see what I can do. I'll do my very best. "

"Now, look here, my boy; don't let that bother you, " replied Mr. Allen. "Wait. Don't trouble trouble till trouble troubles you. He hasn'ttroubled you yet, he's just getting ready to. Let's beat him at his owngame. There are more ways than one to skin a cat. "

"But how?" inquired Willis. 

"Well, the first thing to do is to get the exact location of the cabin, then go to the county recorder's office and see to whom the propertybelongs. If it ever belonged to your father, as you are now disposed tobelieve--"

"Yes, I'd bet my hat, Mr. Allen, that this is the very cabin that myfather and Tad Kieser built. O, how I 'd like to have it all for my veryown!" Mr. Allen interrupted him. "As I was saying, the records will showvery plainly if it was ever transferred or if it was anything but a lodeclaim. If your father owned it, that settles it. Williams has nothing tosay about it. Placer claims can't be taken on deeded property. However, let's not worry about it, but let's count it ours and work toward thatend. "

"O my, if Tad were only here, we'd soon know a thing or two!" exclaimedWillis. 

"Now, boy, listen! Don't go home and spoil all this business. Keep stillabout it until to-morrow, when we can get at the records and find out forcertain just what is what. Will you do that?" questioned Mr. Allen. 

"I'll tell my mother, " replied Willis, "and to-morrow I'll go with you. "

The trail was winding back and forth through a great park of aspens. Onevery side were prospect holes, remains of old cabins, and places wherethe wilderness was again reclaiming her own after men had spent theirtime, money, and energy attempting to force her to give up her gold. 

At the top of the hogsback that over-looked Bruin Inn the fellows satdown to rest. They were back in familiar territory, now, and the cabinquest was nearly over. 

"Of course, the very first thing to do, " Ham was saying, "is to get instone and get our fireplace built before the frost comes. It will be asimple matter--just throw down stones from the mountain; they are flatslabs and will lay up very easily. We'll use that big, flat stone atthe end as a foundation, and run the chimney up outside the house--a realbig, life-sized one, too. And we want a grand old-fashioned crane in thegrate, and andirons of stone, and a big cement hearth. "

"Going to do all your cooking in the fireplace?" asked Chuck. 

"Not on your life, " put in Fat. "We'll bring up our old camp stove, theone we had on the trip last summer--it's a dandy. "

"I've got the only stunt, though, " said Ham. "Let's build a great big bedon the rafters that run from wall to wall. We'll just cut a lot ofsaplings and lay them in close and support the bed from the roof. Afterit has about two feet of balsam boughs on it, it will be a choice roost, I tell you that. I'm going to be architect and boss carpenter of thatjob. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Allen gravely, "but it's not a fireplace, an aerial bunk, or a place to eat that I'm thinking of. There is no use putting our time, effort, and money into this place unless we can take care of at leasttwenty fellows at a time, and how can we do it?"

"The eating won't be any trouble, " advised Fat. "They will get enough toeat some way--I always do. " "We'll build an addition, " suggested Phil, "abunk house addition. That will be easy; we can build it out where thatold back porch is, can't we? And say, talk about great logs, what's thematter with those aspens right there ready for us?"

"We could buy tin dishes, but where is the money coming from? That is themain question, " said Mr. Allen. "Money, " snorted Ham, "that will come ifwe're in earnest, dead earnest. How about that circus? How much money dowe need, anyway?"

Mr. Allen drew out his note-book, and made some rapid calculations. "Well, the very least that you can do with, fellows, is two hundred andfifty dollars. "

"Good-bye, fond dreams!" cried Fat tragically. 

"Two hundred and fifty dollars!" exclaimed Phil and Ham together. "Howdo you get that?"

"Well, cement and lime for the fireplace, freight to Fairview on boards, shingles, furnishings, and so on; rent on donkeys to do the packing, dishes, and pantry boxes, for everything will have to be kept in tinboxes. Then you'll have to hire a mason to put in the fireplace. You'llneed axes, saws, and tools. I'll wager it won't cost a cent less than twohundred dollars, and great loads of hard work. "

"Hard fun, you mean, " interrupted Phil. 

As the evening shadows began to lengthen and the cool breeze to rise fromthe snow-clad peaks of the Middle Range, the little group of explorersdropped into the canyon and hurried home. All were very full of ideas andsuggestions except Willis. He had listened to their talk, but was sayingover and over to himself, "If it doesn't come true, it's my fault, or myuncle's, and that's the same thing. "

CHAPTER XI

A Strange Turn of Fate

"Let's take Mr. Dean to the courthouse with us, Willis, " said Mr. Allen. "He is very shrewd, and we can depend on his judgment in such matters aswe have before us to-day. " Willis found Mr. Dean, and in a short timethey were on their way, Mr. Allen explaining to Mr. Dean the possibledifficulty that had arisen in regard to the ownership of the cabin. 

Upon their arrival at the courthouse, the first thing was to study aUnited States geological map to find the township, section lines, railroads, and streams. Then began the search through old, yellow volumesof records, one after another, each one bringing them nearer to thedesired information. 

"Section five, west of range sixty-seven, " read Mr. Dean. "That's theplace, boys; now we must locate an exact point in that section. You saythe cabin is located on a stream and a trail. The falls are marked here;"he pointed with his pencil. "Now downstream a little; here we are, threetrails marked instead of one. You came over from the railroad, didn'tyou?"

"Yes, right here, " said Willis, pointing. "The cabin is where these twotrails cross each other. "

In the center of the next volume, for there had been many claims locatedand recorded on the little stream, they found the record of a propertybelonging to Willis's father and a Mr. Kieser. The record showed the dateof its refiling, after the country had become a part of the Pike's PeakForest Reserve. The survey lines were given, but of course they could notbe located on the map. Was the cabin on the property there recorded ornot? Willis remembered that his mother had said not, so they pushedfurther into the books and came to the description of a lode claim, thecorner of which, according to the record, was at the intersection ofthe two trails, just where the stream swings south. It was originallystaked and recorded by a man named Briney as a placer claim. Sixconsecutive assessments were recorded, then two years later the claim wasrelocated by a Joseph H. Williams. Willis frowned as he made notes andtook down the dates of the assessments. 

"There you are, " he said despondently; "just as I thought yesterday--Mr. Joseph H. Williams, my uncle, owner. Great chance of getting that cabin, isn't there?"

"Now, hold your horses, " interrupted Mr. Dean. "Let's finish the rest ofthis record. Well, that's the strangest thing I ever heard of. His lastassessment is dated last summer, August 3, 19--. This year's work hasn'tbeen done yet. Why--well, anyway, there must be something worth whilearound that cabin. 'Claim jumped and re-recorded as a lode claim August22, 19--. ' Why, that's the day you started on the trip to look for acabin!"

"You are right, " exclaimed Mr. Allen. "Let's look at the list of recordsfiled on August 22d last. " The clerk showed them the page. It read asfollows:

"Assessment on Joseph H. Williams lode claim, Cheyenne Mountain. " Thenfollowed the description. Directly under it was the following:

"Lode claim, Buffalo Park, located by Beverly H. Pembroke, as describedon page 1162. "

"The cabin then belongs, by right of relocation, to Beverly H. Pembroke, "remarked Mr. Allen, "and we are just exactly four days late. Too bad wedidn't start at this end of the trip. "

"Who is Beverly H. Pembroke?" asked Mr. Dean. No one could tell. "Well, this much is clear, " he went on: "there was some very good reason for therelocation of that claim, and it couldn't have been for that old cabin. Men don't locate claims to get possession of old, tumbled-down log cabinsnowadays. "

"Well, there's this much that isn't clear, " returned Willis: "why thatchange was made the day we started over this route, and furthermore, howdoes it come that the same men worked the assessment on the two claims ifthey belong to different parties? No, sir, men, listen: my Uncle didn'twant that cabin in his possession at this time for some reason, so hetransferred the claim to this man, Pembroke. Anyway, I'm glad it doesn'tbelong to my uncle now, whether we get it for our purpose or not. "

"Now, you listen, " said Mr. Dean: "let's go and see Mr. Pembroke at onceand inquire about it. He can't do more than throw us out, and it might behe'd be tickled to let us have the cabin. Every hundred dollars' worth ofwork done on that property, whether it's mine, trail, dam, or housework, is equal to an assessment. If we remodel the house and use it, he canbuy the property or, as they say, 'prove up' on it. What do you say? Ibelieve we can make a bargain. "

"It's a go!" cried Mr. Allen. "I was sure we would need your brains forthis job, Mr. Dean. Let's go right now. " They looked up the desiredgentleman in the directory, then started for his office. 

"Cheer up, old boy, " cried Mr. Allen as he slapped Willis on the back. "Here's where we win, uncle or no uncle. Isn't that right, Mr. Dean?"

"You feel too confident, " returned Willis. "I see the game. You don't. Mr. Beverly H. Pembroke will politely refuse any offer. My uncle hascoached him on what to say to any inquiries. See if I'm not right!"

"You haven't a very good opinion of that uncle of yours, have you?" saidMr. Dean. "I don't see why he should be so vitally interested in keepingyou away from an old cabin. I think you imagine things, boy. "

"You know some things are true that you can't see, " tersely repliedWillis. "You can't see a pain in your stomach, but you can feel it and ittells you something is wrong. It's just the same in this case. I can'tsee it, but I know something is wrong, and the next thing for us to do isto get our heads together and find out the causes. We're interested inthe causes. "

Mr. Beverly H. Pembroke sat idly in his office. His feet were hoisted upon the window sill, his straw hat tipped far back on his head, while along, slender cigar was held between his teeth. He was decidedly anEnglishman, and a very nervous, fidgety one at that. As the three enteredhe got to his feet and inquired concerning their wants. 

"Log cabin--Buffalo Park--Lode claim located August 22d. " He puffedmeditatively at his cigar, endeavoring to focus his thoughts on thematter before him. A frown clouded his face, then suddenly disappeared. 

"Why-a, yes, ba Jove, this 'ot weather 'as nearly set me crazy. My brains'ave been bemuddled all day, don't you know. Ba Jove, I most forgot thatnew claim. Yes, yes, and you want 'ow many shares?"

Mr. Allen looked at Mr. Dean and smiled. "You do the talking, " he said. 

"Well, it's like this, " said Mr. Dean. Then he laid his propositionbefore the Englishman, who puffed away on his cigar and listened insilence. "Sorry, very sorry, gentlemen, " he began, "but I 'ave justarranged with a party to 'old that site for a summer 'otel or a fruitfarm, or some such a thing, don't you know. Sorry, beastly sorry, though, because I 'ave to refuse you. "

Mr. Allen looked at Mr. Dean, a great disappointment showing on his face. He turned to Willis, who was standing in the background. The boy wassquinting out between half-closed eyelids and his fists were clenchedhard at his sides. He was gazing steadfastly at the floor. Suddenly helooked up at Mr. Allen, then shoved himself behind the railing thatseparated them from the Englishman and spoke in clearcut tones. 

"Mr. Pembroke--" The little Englishman batted his eyes nervously andstraightened noticeably. He was all attention in a second. Willis lookedhim straight in the eye and continued: "I don't suppose you know who Iam, at least you don't appear to. I hate to ask favors of any man, ortake undue advantage of any one, but in this instance I feel that I havejust a little claim upon your attention and your consideration. " Mr. Allen looked at Mr. Dean in utter astonishment. 

"Very early this spring you and I were fellow passengers on a D. & P. W. Train coming to Colorado Springs. Do you remember? That train was wreckedon a stormy afternoon by the splintering of the rails, which caused acollision with a heavy freight. It was my pleasure at that time to savethe life of your little son. "

"Ba Jove, " murmured the Englishman, as he shifted his weight from one legto the other. "It was a deucedly nasty business. I'm very pleased to meetyou again, Mr. --a--a--"

"Thornton, " said Mr. Allen. 

"Mr. Thornton, and--"

"Never mind that, " continued Willis. "All I have to say is that I wouldcount it a very great favor, personally, if you could see your way clearto let us have the use of that cabin for an Association camp, until suchtime as you are ready to build or make other improvements there. "

"Why--a--yes, I'll be pleased to do that, " returned Mr. Pembrokeconfusedly. "Deucedly glad to 'ave a chance to serve you, don't you know. Now, just what is your plan again, gentlemen?"

The plan was carefully gone over, this time with Willis as spokesman. Mr. Pembroke listened carefully till he had finished, then he replied, "BaJove, I like the idea, it 'as points to it. I'd like to furnish thenecessary lumber for the desired addition myself. It will be a deucedlycomfortable 'ome for the boys. You know it was the Association boys thatreturned my dog to me. "

Before leaving his office, a three years' lease was arranged for andeverything looked lovely. What was more, the addition could be started atonce. 

"Well, by the Great Horn Spoon!" ejaculated Mr. Dean when they were welloutside. "You are a wonder! That is what I call nerve. Now tell me allabout it. "

"Bah!" replied Willis, "I hated to do it, but I had to. I was going toask the old boy what Mr. Williams would say to him, but I thought betterof it. To-night is when I have my fun. I'll tell my uncle about our dealand watch him squirm. I wonder if he'll get mad. I can tell by the way heacts if this recording business was a put-up job. There still remains_the_ question, though--why does he want to keep me away from that cabin?It has something to do with my father's old mine, I'm sure of that much;and I'll find out, you see if I don't. "

The evening papers gave a glowing account of the interest of Mr. BeverlyH. Pembroke in the new Y. M. C. A. Cabin project, and gave the plan of work. A circus was already being planned to raise funds for the building, and astock company had been organized among the boys of the Boys' Departmentto furnish funds with which to begin work at once. Work would be startedthe next Saturday. The stockholders and some others would go to the cabinon Friday evening, camp around a fire all night, and be ready to beginwork in the morning. After supper that evening Willis had a long chatwith his mother, and talked over with her all the things that had beendisturbing him in regard to his uncle's recent actions. 

"I think you must surely be mistaken, " she said. "What object could hehave in doing such things. You must remember that you have a very vividimagination, and you must watch it. "

"No, mother, it is not imagination, for this is how I know this time:Didn't you see how red and nervous he got when I told him what Mr. Pembroke had agreed to do. Right after supper he left for down townwithout a word. I don't know what it is, but there is some fact relativeto father's death that he has never told us. If we could only find Tad, I'm sure he could help us out. I'm going to find father's mine, though, and it's not so very far from that cabin, either. Mother, isn't itwonderful that we are going to have the very old house that father builtso long ago? After I find the mine, I'll find out about its worth; but itcan't be worth so very much or Tad would never have left it. If thetunnel is still locked up like you said Tad wrote it was, why, we can'tget into it. It belongs to Tad. Perhaps it will never be opened. Mother, some day when you have a chance, talk with Uncle Joe and see what you canfind out. Father might have left keys and information concerning the minewith him. "

"No, son, he wouldn't have keys, because it was Tad that locked up thetunnel. It is Tad that has the keys. But listen, don't worry over it abit or build any false hopes on it. School will open in a week, and Iwant you to take advantage of all it can give you. We'll be here untilChristmas, anyway, I think, unless Aunt Lucy should slip away before thattime. "

"I wonder what uncle would say to me if I asked him about Tad when hecomes home tonight. I think that's what I'll do. "

About nine o'clock he heard the heavy footsteps of his uncle on theveranda, and in another moment heard him in the hall. After hanging uphis hat and coat, he came into the library, picked up the _EveningTelegraph, _ and began to read, entirely ignoring Willis. After they hadsat thus silently for some minutes, Willis spoke:

"Uncle, did you ever know a man named Tad Kieser, who was a great friendof my father's?" The man moved uneasily in his chair, but, withoutlooking up from his paper, he inquired of the boy what he knew of TadKieser. 

"Not much, to be sure, " returned the boy, half sadly, "only what motherhas told me about him; but I'd like to know more. I think he must havebeen a very interesting old character, wasn't he?"

"An old devil and a cut-throat, " retorted Mr. Williams. "You couldn'tcount on him to be square even to his own mother. A sly old fox always onthe hunt. "

"That's very strange, " replied Willis. "He surely was not that sort of aman or my father never would have chosen him for a partner. You surelymust be mistaken. " "Your father didn't have enough dealings with him tofind him out; that was all. I know him. "

"Tell me about some of the awful deeds he has committed if he is such afox, " questioned Willis. "I've always thought him absolutely square. I'veheard he was the finest man in these mountains, years ago. "

"Who told you any such rot? I have enough circumstantial evidence againsthim to put him behind the bars right now, " growled the uncle. 

"Evidence along what lines, Uncle?" persisted Willis. 

"Blackmail!" snorted Williams. "What difference does it make to you, anyway? He would be a capital fellow to join in on such an absurdlyfoolish scheme as you are just about to pull off at the Y. M. C. A. Now. Going into somebody else's property and absorbing its benefits toyourselves. That's his scheme exactly. He watches my mining claims like ahawk, and if my assessments should be a day late he'd jump my claims. Hehates me. "

"What did you ever do to make him hate you?" innocently inquired Willis. 

Again Mr. Williams ignored the question and went on: "He'd just love towork on that old cabin again. "

"I should think that cabin _would_ interest him, " calmly replied Willis. "I only wish he was here to join us, for I'd rather know him than any manI can think of just now. A man who builds a house ought to know how bestto build onto it, hadn't he? Personally, I think he must have been a veryclever old miner and as true as steel. "

"Yes, true to his own interests. "

"It takes two to make a fight, though, doesn't it? By the way, Uncle, whydid you let that sapheaded Englishman jump your claim last week? Ishould think you'd hate him for such tricks as you do Tad?" Willis eyedhis uncle closely, then in a half undertone he casually remarked, "Anyway, I think a whole lot of this mining business is mighty crookedbusiness. " Then again to his uncle, "Is Tad still around in the mountainssomewhere, Uncle?"

Mr. Williams smiled in a preoccupied way and said, "Yes and no. "

"I don't understand?" questioned Willis. 

There was no reply. Soon the man laid down his paper and left the room. 

"Well, I'll be jiggered, " said Willis half-aloud. "What can he haveagainst the man who was my father's partner? I don't know, but I'll findout. " He closed his book with a slam and went off to bed. 

 * * * * *

The last Friday night of the summer vacation saw a large group of huskyhigh school boys board the car en route to the cabin. All were equippedwith blanket rolls, and several carried picks, shovels, and other tools, for "to-morrow" real work on the cabin was to begin. It seemed that thecoloring of the leaves had given everything their delicate tint. Thesquirrels were already gathering stray acorns that Mother Nature haddropped for them. The little canyon lay in perfect quiet, except for thechattering of the line of boys stretched out along its leafy woodlandtrail. The whole physical body seemed to respond in a mysterious way toits every call, for "In the city we live, but in the mountains we livemore abundantly. "

By eleven o'clock the party sat around a half-dozen blazing campfires, munching at a midnight lunch and speculating on various phases ofthe work. Ham was keeping the fellows around one fire laughing overhis remarks; Fat was giving expression to his views on camp grub andfood in general. Mr. Dean entertained another group by his stories ofarmy life, while Mr. Allen and a number of the boys' Cabinet were layingout a plan of work for the morrow. Shorty Wier advised work on thefireplace first, because, as he pointed out, "the fireplace would bethe cabin's heart. " It might have fine decorations and new rooms, awell-stocked pantry and new furniture, yet what would all these be to adead thing? The fireplace would be the spot around which all the cabinlife would congregate--around which every strange experience would be putinto words. "Yes, I'll help cut the logs and pack in the lumber and buildthe furniture, but first of all let me see the rugged stone chimney witha fire quietly burning on a great, wide, friendly hearth to cheer me as Iwork. "

"You are right, Shorty, " cried Willis. "I'm with you, for when the oldfireplace is built, and the wind is whistling down the canyon, bringingmessages of snow, we'll forget everything outside and just be happytoasting before a great log fire. "

And so the night slipped along. After a while they began to drowse, untilone by one the little groups became quiet and fell asleep. Only theglowing, flickering pine knots stayed awake to watch the tired sleepers. 

The first streak of dawn found the fellows up and eager for work;besides, there was so much to see and learn before the day's work wasbegun. The remains of the midnight lunches were drawn out of their hidingplaces and eagerly devoured. The fragrant smell of broiling bacon and thedelicious aroma of campfire coffee filled the air. The pine-scented smokefrom the campfire hung low in the valley, and every sound carried plainlyin the morning air. The squirrels were out in great numbers and at theirmorning play, while every now and then the harsh, rasping cry of abewildered bluejay would float up the canyon. 

The stone crew were strung out in skirmish order across the front of thehigh ridge and were rolling down every loose stone. Some came with amerry hop, skip, and jump; others with a shower of gravel and a crash asthey struck the bottom. One great stone leaped into the top of a sprucetree and stuck fast. Another jumped over the great boulder at the base ofthe hill and rattled into the open door of the cabin. Still anotherdashed in mad frenzy down the slope, through the alders and into thestream, throwing spray in every direction. So the pile steadily grew. 

In the afternoon the cabin was cleaned out and a part of the backporch demolished, ready for the new addition. It had been decided tobuild a room eight by twenty-eight feet, and in it lay one greatbalsam-bough mattress. Under Ham's direction the aerial bunk was begun, and it very soon showed signs of being built by a master builder. It waswhat might be termed "rustic, " as Ham said. Logs from the woodpile weresubstituted for the rotting ones in the floor of the bridge. A great pileof brush, twigs, and trash were set afire and destroyed. So the dayslipped away--all too quickly. Four o'clock found a group of royal goodfellows again on the trail--that trail that was soon to become so dear toevery one of them. Their muscles were tired with unselfish work, andtheir minds and hearts were full of the joy of living. There was alreadysomething of the great social bond that was later to tie their livestogether for all time with a cord of pleasant memories. 

Ham had fastened his blanket to a nail away up in the topmost rafter ofthe cabin, and here he left it for another time. 

"Where your blanket is, there will your heart be also, sometimes, " hequoted as they took the trail that led down out of the wilderness. 

CHAPTER XII

The Discovery of the Mine

Two weeks later another crowd was organized to do a day's work on thecabin, and it seemed every boy in the Department wanted to go. "Unlessyou feel as husky as a steam elevator, you better stay home, " was Ham'sadvice to one small boy, for Ham had been chairman of the committee thathad been so busy since the last trip, purchasing all manner of supplies, equipment, and building material for the cabin, all of which would haveto be packed over from Fairview on donkeys, and there was nearly acarload of it. Ham was under the impression that the donkeys would falldead when they saw the "pile of junk, " and that every single fellow inthe crowd would have to "wiggle his ears, bray once or twice, and getbusy, " if the cabin ever became the possessor of the new equipment. 

Twenty fellows besides the "Chief" and Mr. Dean were on hand at theappointed time. At the mouth of the canyon two very faithful old donkeys, that had years before belonged to a prospector, were rented for the trip. Under their former master they had been trained to carry heavy loads ofore from the little mine far back in the mountains out to the city, andto return again heavily laden with the provisions for another winter incamp. They had learned their lessons well, so were perfectly trustworthy. 

Peanuts was the oldest, and therefore came in for the most considerationand the lightest load. As he raised his tired, patient old head, his longgray ears pointed forward at the sight of the pack saddles. One glanceand he was satisfied. He perfectly understood what was coming, andvisions of the long, zigzag paths through shaded valleys all fresh fromthe summer showers flashed through his brain. Peanuts loved the trail, the deep, long, grassy trail, that crept along close to the littlestream, then up and up into the great Silent Places. Tradition told thatPeanuts had been the first donkey to carry a pack up Pike's Peak, as wellas the first to bring real "high grade" out of the Cripple Creek; but ofcourse tradition might have been mistaken. At any rate, Peanuts was agentle, slow, patient toiler of the trail, and it was largely due to hisgood judgment that the cabin was ever equipped. 

Many were the trips he made after that first journey. There weresummer trips in the hot sun of July days; autumn trips in the cool, sweet-scented evenings when the mountain twilight lingers on the treetopsand the rocky crests. There were trips in the winter when the trail washidden underneath heavy blankets of snow or lost in the deep whitedrifts. Once he had gone in beyond his depth and had settled down anddown into the fluffy snow until just his head and big ears were visibleabove the snowbank. 

His companion, Tuberculosis, was a little different type of beast. Hislegs were long and his spirits high. He was in the prime of life and wasnot as trustworthy as his partner. Certainly Tuberculosis had hisidiosyncrasies, and that fact often spelled trouble for both himselfand his masters. Now, Peanuts had learned that his driver was alwaysboss, and acted accordingly; but not so with Tuberculosis. He believedthat his own judgment in certain matters of conduct was best. Forinstance, it was absolutely against his principles to ever cross astream, no matter how well it was bridged or how insignificant its size. Yet, after many experiences, seasoned with a little strenuous persuasionfrom the end of an alder limb, he began slowly to change his views. However, he positively had no use for burned stumps, and when it came topassing a campfire, Tuberculosis absolutely declined. There was just onething that both donkeys very firmly believed, and that was that eachwas to lead and the other follow when on the trail. This was the onlypoint upon which they really ever quarreled, and most every time Peanuts, because of his mature judgment and statesmanship, won out. 

When the pack saddles were on, and the pack bags of food adjusted oneither side, the blanket rolls piled high on top, they were ready tobegin the journey, "Donkeys are a good deal like some men, " observed Hamas the little column came to the base of the hogsback, "they alwayshave to travel by freight. "

"How is that?" questioned Willis, who had appointed himself guardian toPeanuts and was just ahead of Ham. 

"Why, because they can't express themselves, " was the reply. 

"Not verbally, perhaps, " suggested Fat, "but they do have a signal code, of which their hind legs are the main features. I've had them signal atme more than once. "

"And if you ever receive the completed message, " added Ham, "it usuallysays, 'Six weeks in the hospital. '"

At the top of the hogsback the party separated into two groups. The oneunder Mr. Allen continued on up the trail with the two donkeys, while theother, under Mr. Dean, took the railroad, walking around by Fairview, tosee if their equipment had arrived. 

It was decided the boys would sleep around a rousing fire rather than onthe cold floor of the cabin. The shakedown was too dry to be comfortable, and Ham's aerial bunk had not yet been completed. They therefore chose aspot for the night's camp across the stream from the cabin on a piece ofhigh level ground covered with a thick brown carpet of pine needles. Verysoon a bright fire was burning and the night's wood gathered. From thebulging packsacks a real camp supper was gotten under way. Every fellowcooked his own piece of meat and baked his potato in the coals, while Mr. Allen made the coffee and opened the cans of beans. Each fellow fashionedhimself a spoon from a dry stick, and the new cabin tincups wereinitiated into service. Ham, who had had some previous experience withdonkeys, warned everybody to be sure to save all the scraps, for beans, rye bread, or beefsteak were all dainties to the faithful animals. 

One of the fellows had brought his mouth-organ, and under his leadershipthey sang every song from "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" to "Nearer, MyGod, to Thee. " When the fire had had time to work its wonders on thehearts and spirits of the campers, Mr. Allen suggested a few stories. Ofcourse, he just voiced what was in the minds of many others, for who everheard of a campfire, a grand night, a happy crowd, and no stories? Such asituation was inconceivable. Every fellow looked forward to the campfirebecause of the stories, and remembered the stories because of thecampfire. They were inseparable. Mr. Dean opened the program. One storysuggested another, and that one another, until nearly every one in thecircle had told a story except Ham. Willis told Indian legends of thegreat Kankakee Swamp and of the disappearance of the PottawattomieIndians. Another told of a wonderful trip through Yellowstone Park;another of a deer hunt in Routt County; and still another of a mountaingoat expedition in the Canadian Rockies. All the while Ham lay flat onhis back, shading his face from the fire with his hands, and looking upat the stars. He was reveling in the spirit of the fire and of the night. 

"What are you dreaming about, Ham?" called Willis from the other side ofthe fire, to which Ham made no reply. 

"What's on your mind?" asked Fat, as he rolled over, facing Ham, andpunched him in the ribs. 

"Nothing special, " drawled Ham as he rose to a sitting position and drewhis legs up under him. "I've just been listening. Your stories have beenthe words to the music that is in the air to-night. I love to lie stillbefore a fire and listen to its music. I never realized before how manyout-of-door noises are liberated when a pile of dry sticks are burned. That old fire has just been singing all the imprisoned songs of theforest wild to-night, and giving out again in its little flames a hundredthousand tons of absorbed sunshine. "

"Ham, let's have the Pike's Peak story, " urged Mr. Dean; but Ham onlylaughed. 

"Yes, let's do, " begged Willis. 

"What's the Pike's Peak story?" inquired Sleepy from his place against anold stump. 

"Well, if every one of you fellows will promise to never mention it againto me, " said Ham hesitatingly; "but I'm not going to tell you all thedetails--just the plot--remember that!" He settled himself comfortablyand began:

"The three of us had been in the habit of taking long Sunday afternoontramps in the mountains, but because of the cold weather we had beenpretty well shut in all winter. The snowfall for the season had beenheavy and the cold, especially in the mountains, had been intense. Itwas the eighth of March, I think, and the very first signs of springhad just put in their appearance. We decided that we would walk to theHalf-Way House on the Cog Road, or at least as far as we could. Wedidn't know how much snow there was, or where it began, but we were allfeeling good and anxious for another real hike. We were all three dressedin our Sunday clothes, and I was the proud possessor of a new spring suitand a pair of low shoes. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon whenwe started up the track from Manitou; by five o'clock we reached theHalf-Way House, and much to our surprise found the keeper there. We hadencountered very little or no snow that far on the track, and, as thedays were getting longer, we knew we had two good hours yet before dark. We inquired of the inn keeper how far the track was open, and he informedus that it was clear as far as Windy Point, that there the great icesheets began. There is always more snow on the great south shoulder ofthe Peak than anywhere else. You remember Son-of-a-Gun Hill? Well, wedecided that we would push on to the top of Son-of-a-Gun, then come back. We left the Half-Way House and started up the track. The walking was fineon that flat stretch just after you leave the inn, and we covered spacevery rapidly. At the bottom of the great hill, in a grove of youngaspens, we stopped and cut us some walking sticks. 

"If it had been summer, and the snow and ice gone, we would probably havenoticed that there was a terrible storm gathering in the valley back ofCameron's Cone; but with the range all white and dreary we did not noticeit. You fellows who have lived here near the mountain know that a stormoften rises up there as if by magic. They come so quickly you oftenwonder where they came from. Of course, being directly in the shadow ofPike's Peak, the sun went down very early, and our twilight was not aslong as we anticipated. I was the first to notice the cold breeze thathad sprung up, and I remarked about it; but we were walking fast and werereally too much interested in reaching the edge of the snow to pay muchattention to anything. Suddenly it grew dark and the wind increased. Inless than ten minutes we were in the midst of a howling mountain blizzardand the snow was being driven before the wind at a terrific speed. Johnsuggested turning back, but Al and I were for pushing on, thinking it wasjust a squall, and, as it seemed to be headed straight down the canyon, we thought we would soon get above it. John insisted that we were crazy, but we made all manner of fun of him, so on we went. 

"'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, ' sometimes. That is just whatwe did. We walked on in silence as fast as we could for half an hour. Then we stopped and held a parley. We suddenly awoke from our littledream of foolishness and began to realize that instead of getting out ofthat storm, we had gotten into it. Up there on that great mountain sidewe could not see ten feet in any direction. Above us and around us was araging sea of frozen pellets. The snow was drifting along the track, andin some places it was already completely hidden. Night was coming, andthere was no shelter from the swirling winds. In number of miles we werea good deal nearer the summit of the Peak than we were home, andsomewhere ahead of us was the old printing station. We would make for itand its shelter--it would be foolish to expose ourselves to the storm byreturning in the open valley. Then, too, we might lose our way and slipinto the canyon below. We fought on bravely in the dark until finally thewind went down a little and the snow grew soft and wet. Our shoes werewet through and our bodies completely chilled, yet we could not find theprinting station. Had we passed it, or was it still ahead. We differed inour opinions. 

"Finally the snow ceased, and we could see about us a little by thereflected light. We spied a few straggly trees and made for them, for wewere just at timber line. We found a great tree that had blown over, and, breaking limbs from its prostrate trunk, we built a large fire andsat on the log to dry our feet. We were now very keenly alive to oursituation, and knew it was becoming serious. We suddenly realized thatour only safety depended on the locating of that old printing station. Our shoes were so wet and our feet so cold that the leather burned beforewe knew it; but, as a real matter of fact, we didn't realize how badlythey were burned until an hour later, when the shoes began to crack awayin bits and the uppers to rip open along the seams. 

"We reached the great snowbanks. The track and roadbed was buried deep. The last straggling trees were far behind. We stood on a great whitewaste of snow, thirty feet in depth, not a landmark to be seen. If thestation was ahead, it was buried; if it was behind, we had missed it. With that realization our spirits fell, for to turn back now meantcertain death. Then, to add to our danger, it had begun to turn fearfullycold--that kind of a clear, steady cold that comes only in the mountains, when the thermometer drops twenty-five degrees below zero and the aircuts like a knife, while your nostrils freeze together when you breathe. At the fire we had tied handkerchiefs over our ears and tied stringsaround our trouser legs to keep the wind and snow out. 

"Every little while we sat down and pounded our feet with our walkingsticks to keep up the circulation. At last we came to about two feet of atelephone pole sticking up through the snowbank. We knew then that wewere off the road and were high up on the mountain. Luckily for us, thesnowbanks were so heavily crusted that they held us up without breakingthrough. John suggested a plan: We would follow the post ends to theSummit House; in that way we could not get lost. Two of us would stop atthe tip of one post, while the other, usually John, would push on to findthe next one. When it was located he would call and we would go tohim. Just how long we traveled in that manner I do not know. It seemeddays, but, of course, it was only a brief time. Often I was positive thatthe posts were at least a half a mile apart. My shoes were so badlycracked at the seams that my feet grew very numb with the cold, andbefore long I knew I was freezing. 

"Time and again we thought we heard something coming over the snow behindus. The air was clear as a bell, and, as we pushed on, this soundfrightened us more and more. Our imaginations began to play strangepranks. I remember that I was too frightened to even move, so sometimesI would just stand shivering and listening. We hardly spoke a word. Byand by the time came when I was too cold to leave my post for the nextone. I just put my arms about it and begged the fellows not to wait forme, but to go on and save themselves; to dig a hole in the snow and leaveme in it. But John, dear old John, refused and, putting his arm about me, he dragged me on and on. He tried to make me angry by striking me, andwarned me not to go to sleep or I would freeze. But I told him I mustsleep, for my feet and legs were numb and my arms and shoulders achedwith sharp pains; then I cried like a baby. Soon Al began to play outalso, and John plead with him not to give up. Al took me by one arm andJohn the other, and together they fairly dragged me over the snow. 

"When we least expected it, we stumbled over the steps that led tothe Summit House. In a few moments we were at the door, but I washelpless. The summit was completely buried, except at one end, where thewind had kept it clear. John hastily examined the windows, only to findthat every opening was securely covered with an iron shutter. We werelost! I heard John muttering to himself; then he slipped his fingersunder the bottom of the shutter, braced his feet, and pulled with asuperhuman strength--the strength of a last hope. With a creak theshutter gave at its fastenings, then bent in the middle, and slipped out. He then knocked out the double window with his elbow and soon had meinside. 

"We found candles in a jar, and there was a great wood stove in the room, but no fuel. He didn't hesitate, but went to the counter, removed theshelves from it, and, with a meat cleaver which lay on the table, he cutthe shelves, and we soon had a fire. We heard sounds outside, andrealized that the something we had heard behind us on the snow was at thewindow. We were conscious of a presence without being able to see it. John went to the broken window and looked out, but he could see nothing. Soon we heard stealthy steps back and forth on the flat roof above. Hebarricaded the window, brought snow on the end of a board, and rubbed myface, feet, and legs with it, then wrapped me in tablecloths which hefound in the cupboard. Several times he brought a great armful of shelvesfrom the storeroom and cut them up for the stove. 

"As soon as the fire was started, Al lay down on the floor and fell intoa heavy sleep. We could not waken him, and it frightened us badly. Johnbegan to cry, and I think if it had not been for the constant pacing backand forth of the strange animal on the roof we would all have given up. Soon the first streaks of dawn began to show themselves, and with thelight the pacing on the roof stopped. John climbed up the tower steps andpeered out just in time to see the animal jump from the roof anddisappear. 

"The house was fairly overrun with rats that scampered in everydirection. I thought I had seen rats, mountain rats, but I had never seenany like those. They were so bold we were afraid to sleep, for they werelarge enough to be dangerous. 

"When Al awoke he was very sick and weak. John found a big tin box in thekitchen, and in it were coffee, grapenuts, and the remains of a ham. Hemelted snow for water, and got us a little breakfast. We were threepretty serious fellows, for we knew only too well how the folks at homewould be worrying about us and how near we had come to freezing to deathon that great mountain of snow and ice. 

"After we had had breakfast, we made us crude snowshoes from the ends ofgrocery boxes, which we fastened to our feet with strings. Our shoesbecame hard when they dried, and it was only after painful effort that wegot them on at all. We took the piece of ham, cooked the grease from it, and with this oiled our shoes as best we could. Traveling was very slow, for we were weak and sick, so it was nearly evening before we reachedManitou. There we met several rescue parties just starting to find us. Ican shut my eyes and see them now. Some carried blankets and some food. Mr. Allen had a big red sweater on his arm and a coil of heavy rope hungfrom his shoulder. Old Ben was there, too, for they had sent word to himat Bruin Inn, inquiring if we were there, and when he found out we werelost he insisted on joining the rescue party. In fact, it was he thatsuggested that we had probably gone up Pike's Peak. Ben and I have alwaysbeen great friends ever since. 

"We held out some way till we reached home, then we all three gave up. O, the awful sickness that followed and the pain of frozen feet! I was inbed nearly a month, and every time I slept I dreamed of that awful night. I came very near slipping off this earth then. Of course the newspapersmade fools of us and all the fellows teased us nearly beyond endurance. It was only a few weeks later that an immense mountain lion was shot nearthe cabin on the carriage road. There you are, you have my story, nowlet's forget it. "

Not a fellow moved. They all sat looking intently into the dying fire. After a few minutes Mr. Allen suggested a sleep, and before long the campwas quiet, each camper wrapped in his blanket and stretched full lengthon the ground. 

 * * * * *

Very early the next morning the transportation of equipment wasbegun. The entire party went over to Fairview to bring the first loadof tin dishes, plates, cups, knives, forks and spoons, kettles, pots, frying-pans, sugar cans--and so the list went on. The old shelves wereremoved from the blind end of the cabin and placed near the window in theother end. These were to serve as pantry shelves in the kitchen corner. 

After breakfast was over one group returned to the car for another load, while Ham, with a helper, pushed forward the construction of the aerialbunk. The queer old shakedown was torn to pieces and the poles used forHam's bed, the rest of it was shoved out of the back door and set afire. On this load the stove came, two fellows supporting it on the pack-saddleof old Peanuts. It was set up near the window and a work table built atthe end of it. Another set of shelves was made for the pantry, and soonall was in readiness at that end of the house. The old grub box wasconverted into a bread box, and the little old stove was set back in anout-of-the-way corner. It was, indeed, the passing of the old to giveplace to the new. 

Tuberculosis seemed to enter completely into the spirit of the new, forhe had walked calmly back and forth over the shaky old bridge whichcrossed the stream with load after load of shingles and sacks of cementand a thousand other things that were to have a place in the cabin. Therewere windows and a heavy pine door for the new room. There were axesand saws and hammers. There were buckets and lanterns and iron bars toput over the windows, and stove-pipe for the kitchen stove. Then, too, there was a grand old crane for the fireplace and the frame for a wirescreen to keep the flying brands on the hearth. Not a thing that would beneeded had been forgotten. It was a weary crowd of fellows that cameslowly along the trail at noon with the last load of boards, hung on thesides of Peanuts' saddle, the nails and hardware, packed in heavy canvasbags, loaded on Tuberculosis. 

The aerial bunk was all completed before dinner time, except thatching itwith balsam boughs, and all hands would help at that after the noon meal. Mr. Allen prepared the meal, and it was a real camp dinner. Could fellowsever have been so hungry before?

In the afternoon the rest of the old back veranda was demolished andcleared away. A large number of great, tall aspens, the choice of thegrove, were cut, trimmed, and dragged in, in readiness for the newstructure. It seemed that all the jays for miles around and all thesquirrels in the valley came to investigate when they heard the crashingof the big trees and the merry sound of the axes. Great piles of balsamboughs were dragged down from the mountain side opposite the cabin. Thesewere carefully trimmed before they were handed up to Ham, who was in thebunk doing the thatching. The early afternoon saw the completion of thefine, big bed--big enough for five people; and as the fellows became tootired to work, the bunk became more and more popular. Every one wasanxious to try it. 

A heavy hasp was spiked to its place, and the cabin was put under lockand key for the first time. They had really taken possession of it--itwas theirs. 

"It beats the Dutch how much that yard of stovepipe sticking out thereadds to her looks, " observed Mr. Dean when the stove had been set up. 

"It isn't the stovepipe so much, " replied Chuck, "as it is the smokecoming out of it. "

"What pipe are you talking about?" inquired Sleepy as he dropped down outof the new bunk to inspect the work the others had been doing since noon. "Who's smoking a pipe?" he persisted, not understanding the conversation. 

"The cabin, " tersely remarked Chuck. "But it has to get warm before itcan smoke, and it has to work before it can get warm. The cabin mightteach you a lesson. "

Later in the afternoon there was a great commotion a little distance upthe trail, and Mr. Allen hastened to investigate the shouting and soundsof chopping. To his great disgust he found Sleepy dealing heavy blows toan old pine tree with an ax while the perspiration was running down hisface. He was prancing about in great excitement. 

"What on earth?" questioned Mr. Allen. 

"I'm trying to get a squirrel. I saw him up in this tree just a momentago, " cried Sleepy. 

"Is that all you can find to do to use up your energy?" asked Mr. Allendryly. Sleepy looked at him sheepishly, then hung his head and slowlyreturned to the cabin, brought a pail of water from the stream, thencrawled up into the bunk, out of sight. 

By the time things were straightened around in the cabin so that themason could build the fireplace it was time to be starting home, butevery one was too tired from the day's work. They decided they would restin the cool shade for an hour before beginning the tramp down. It wouldthen be twilight. 

Willis took this occasion to do a little exploring on his own account. Hehad worked faithfully all day and was very tired, but he did so want tofind his father's mine before he went home this time. He slipped awayunobserved and took the lower trail, which followed up to the remains ofthe second bridge, then climbed to the tumbled-down cabin they had foundthe first day. Here he took the trail that led far up into the timber. Finally he saw far up above him what appeared to be an old mine dump. Quickly he clambered up over rocks and rotting logs toward it, andin a few moments he stood on the dump itself, which was of hard blackstone, with the exception of just a little quartz. He was sure it was thesame kind of stone he had seen on the old mantle at his grandfather's. The quartz was apparently the last stone dumped. 

At one side stood an old mine shaft, perhaps fifty feet deep, with anancient hand-made windlass still at the top. Then just to one side andentering the mountain was a great log door, put together with bolts. Thelock was a strong powder-house lock, made of heavy brass. The place gaveno appearance of having seen a man in many years. The hinges and haspon the great door were heavily corroded, and an old metal wheelbarrow layon the dump, rusted red. A tin sign fastened to a tree at the side of thetunnel had become a target for expert gunners. Willis tried the door, butcould not force it a particle. Turning, he stood looking off into thecanyon toward Cheyenne. "So this is the spot, " he mused; "and it hasnever been touched in these ten years. Poor old daddy, poor old daddy!"He leaned heavily against the log door, and his thoughts came thick andfast, only to conclude, as they always did, with, "Where is Tad Kieserand why does my uncle try to keep me away from this spot?"

He was standing where his father had stood many times, and the boy seemedto be very conscious of his presence just then. He wondered if, perhaps, there had not been something of just love for the place itself, as wellas for the gold, which had drawn his father there so irresistibly. Such aspot for a long, quiet visit with one's self! Below him the stream andthe little cabin; to one side, and a little farther up, the beautifulfalls, with Cookstove in the background; to the other side the park, allresplendent in yellow leaves, with here and there a tall pine standinglike a green island in a sea of gently-moving gold. Far away over theridge was the blue outline of Cheyenne with its stage road creeping roundthe base. He sat down to rest and to think. He was suddenly awakened fromhis dream by seeing Mr. Allen closing and locking the cabin door belowhim. He rose and hastened down the trail. In a few moments he had joinedthe party, but he kept silent about where he had been and what he hadseen. 

"You'll have to let me in the cabin a moment, Mr. Allen, " he called; "Ileft my coat up in the bunk--I forgot it. " The door was unlocked andWillis entered, hastily climbing the little ladder up the side of thewall to the bunk. It was dark in the cabin, for the sun had set. As hestepped into the bunk he touched something, then jumped back with anexclamation. Sleepy raised up on his elbow and looked about him. In aterror-stricken voice he called out, "Who are you?" Willis laughed soheartily that the fellows came hurrying into the cabin to see whatoccasioned it. Then followed a great deal of fun at Sleepy's expense. Sleepy only hung his head and tried to act as if his feelings had beenbadly hurt. 

"Dirty trick, after a fellow's worked hard all day, to go and lock him inand start for home without him. I'd have starved in there, I suppose, " hesaid gloomily, "and no one would have cared. "

"I suppose you would, " laughed Ham, "for you would be too lazy to cookyou a meal after you found the food. We'll have to keep guard all the wayhome on Sleepy, fellows, or he'll fall into some ravine and go to sleep. He worked so hard to-day, poor boy. I never did believe in this childlabor business, anyway. "

The fellows took turn about riding the donkeys home, and a uniqueexperience it was, for pack saddles are not the most comfortable seats inthe world, especially for a tired boy. Ham gave practical demonstrationuntil the others caught on, then he walked. They were all too tiredto chat much, so just jogged along homeward, happy that another day'swork was done on the cabin. 

"A few more like this trip and we will be ready to entertain, " called Mr. Dean. 

CHAPTER XIII

Sleepy Smith has an Experience

Two weeks later another trip was made to the now-beloved cabin, but theparty was small and, because of the lack of leadership, the amount ofconstructive work done was not great. Enough logs were cut and dragged into complete the addition, a new layer of fragrant boughs added to theaerial bunk, and the dam improved and strengthened. The rest of the daywas spent in hunting squirrels and chipmunks and in investigating theimmense valley above St. Mary's Falls. School was keeping the fellowsvery busy, and because the fall social life had begun the young men foundspare time very scarce. The autumn activities in the Boys' Departmentwere also in full swing, demanding their share of time and attention. Thestanding committee for the coming circus were already appointed, andwere scratching their heads for new and novel stunts. 

The O. F. F. Were to present the afterconcert, and Fat was busy on theprogram. The fall gymnasium was being entered into with great zest, andalready there had been a call for basket ball. The Bible study groupswere getting together for the winter, the new Cabinet had been elected, so that, someway, there was not a great deal of time left for the cabin. 

Mr. Allen and a few picked fellows had made a trip the week before, primarily to take up a supply of food for the mason and his helper, andhad gotten the entire frame of the addition up, ready to roof andshingle. 

The next week another small group went up to roof the addition and closeit in so as to keep out the snow, if, perchance, it might come beforethey were able to finish the improvements. They found the fireplacecompleted, crude but artistic, of jagged boulders with an immense cementhearth. The iron crane had been built in, and now hung lazily in the bigfire-box. 

Next came the cutting of the aspen poles for the floor of the addition. They had hoped to get at least one layer of boughs on the great bed sothat the next time a larger crowd could be accommodated, but the longautumn shadows warned them that twilight was approaching long before theystarted it, so consequently they had to go back without seeing that taskaccomplished. The curtains had been put on the windows, white oilclothhad been tacked on the board tables, and a mirror, if you please, washung over the tin wash basin just inside the door. Hooks made of crookedbranches were fastened upon the logs on which to hang coats andhaversacks. The place had really undergone a genuine transformation. 

"Well, " said Ham, as he took a long drink from the bucket of fresh waterthat stood on the kitchen table, "that's the best water that ever floweddown a mountain side. There's life and health in every shining drop ofit. To tell you the real truth, fellows, I'm beginning to feel mightilyat home here in this little shack. Shack! that doesn't sound right, though, does it? What are we going to call this place, anyway, Mr. Allen?Y. M. C. A. Cabin is no good. It sounds too civilized. Now, does that oldfireplace look civilized? And that iron crane, and those twisted rusticseats in the corner, and that bed out there big enough to accommodatetwenty fellows? It reminds me of a home the old Vikings must have hadlong ago, way up in the great pine woods of Northern Europe. Someway, ithas a look of health and strength about it that I like. Don't you see thesmile on that old fire-box? Can't you hear the happy peasant childrengathered there on that hearth singing their woodland songs and drinkingtheir mugs of warm soup? Then, over yonder, all stretched out, his headto the fire, lies a great, gaunt dog, tired from the chase. Then the tap, tap on the wooden floor of the old woman's cane as she hobbles aboutthe cabin. Can't you smell the bear haunch that's roasting there on thatlong spit before the fire? Don't you hear the merry music of the ax, justoutside the door, as brawny arms swing it, cutting the great backlog forthe long night? Civilized? Yes, in a way, but not in our way, is it? Butwhat are we going to call this cabin?"

Willis had slipped out a few minutes before and had wandered up thecanyon to the last point from which the cabin could be seen. There hestopped and turned to survey the valley. The air was clear and cool andwas completely filled with the fragrant murmuring of the pines. Far downin a vista of shifting lights and shadows stood the cabin. 

The next week brought the first signs of the approaching winter. Thewarm fall rains gave way to cold showers. The leaves fell in countlessmillions, and the voices of the feathered folk seemed to have blown awaywith the autumn leaves. Heavy white mists hung over the mountains, lifting occasionally to show curious eyes that the lofty summits werealready being painted white. The grass lost its fresh, green color, andthe wild purple asters dropped their lovely heads and slept. The firstreal snow came in the night. 

The desire to go to the cabin on the part of a large number of healthy, stalwart boys was matched against a foot of fluffy snow. The fact thatthey had not seen the new, completed bunk-house, nor the fireplace, addedgreatly to their intense desire to go. Added to this was the naturalboyish love for possible adventure, so, of course, it was decided to go, snow or no snow. 

Twenty strong, they were on hand at the appointed hour. Soft shirts hadgiven way to sweaters, outing shoes to high boots or leggings. Still theboys were just the same--happy, healthy, and free, ready for anything thetrip might bring. Old Peanuts raised sad eyes as he was led forth andsaddled. To think that such as he should tramp through all that snowon such a night. Tuberculosis was disgusted beyond all measure. It wasonly by much bribing from his bag of precious pinion nuts that Sleepy wasable to get him to even move. The snow was dry and fluffy, so walking wasnot really disagreeable, but necessarily very slow. Somehow Peanutsseemed to have grown old with the season, and many times Ham almost gaveup in desperation, declaring they would not reach the cabin by morning. Darkness settled very early that night, and with it came the clear, coldbreeze from the snowy peaks beyond. How white everything looked, and howquiet! Even the stream seemed to have been buried under a white blanket. On the hogsback the snow had drifted badly, completely obliterating thetrail. It seemed like it took hours to climb that rugged hill. Twicethe donkeys slipped from the trail, floundered in the fluffy drifts, and then lay down. Twice they both refused to go another step; thendarkness--the black darkness of a stormy winter night, settled about themjust as they entered the Park. Who knew the trail--that narrow pathwaythat led between trees, around buried stumps, across shallow fords, andback again? Who could now general this little disheartened army and leadit on to warmth and shelter? Sleepy complained bitterly because the trailwas long, and many times threatened to go back when he was taunted with"Baby!" First it was a false step, then a splash into the cold stream;next it was a false lead into the heart of an aspen thicket, only toreturn and try again. Ham broke the trail until he was too tired to goanother step, while Mr. Allen brought up the discouraged rear. 

It was a gloomy line that worked its way up the snow-filled canyonthat night. Minutes seemed like hours, and already the cold winds weremaking every fellow weak and hungry. Ham was the life of the party, andkept the fellows hopeful at his end of the line, even when he was sotired from breaking trail that it seemed that he could not go anotherpace. Willis was behind him, ready to lend a hand whenever he tripped ontreacherously-covered poles or slipped from the trail into the icystream. At last the little belt of thick timber was reached, and Ham'sheart rejoiced, for he knew the cabin was on the other side of it. Beforelong they stood on the high trail and looked down into the valley wherestood the cabin, gloomy and gray, the light from the snow caught andfaintly reflected by the windows. Ham gave a loud shout that cheered andstrengthened every heart, and in another moment he was unlocking thedoor. 

Ham's little pocket ax sang out in the winter night, and soon his effortswere rewarded by a tiny blaze on the hearth. He ordered his forces like aveteran, and they obeyed him without question--all save Sleepy, who chosea comfortable spot in the corner and sat down, refusing to move. Verysoon the kitchen stove began to heat its end of the house, and the bigtin teakettle sang and sighed over the flames. Mr. Allen was busy withsupper and Fat was clearing a space before the open fire so they couldall sit down together. Some brought in the wood and piled it high in onecorner, while others scraped the snow away from the lea of a big boulder, thus making a shelter for the donkeys. Ham smuggled a half a dozen frozenpotatoes for them and a half loaf of rye bread. 

A column of merry sparks rose from the chimney, while the candles threwweird, funny little shadows out on the snow through the barred windows. Ham and Willis were watering the donkeys and discussing their trip up, when Ham, without any apparent reason, burst into a merry laugh. 

"I have an idea, Willis, and it's a capital one, too. Will you help mecarry it out?" and he laughed again. 

"Well, that depends, " returned Willis. 

Ham put his hand to his ear and listened, then turned and looked eagerlytoward the cabin. When he was satisfied they were alone he continued:"When I first came out here to feed the mules I heard an owl hooting upin that big tree. My, but it startled me at first, until I had time tothink what it was. You know they shot a young mountain lion over onBlack Mountain day before yesterday. Now, we aren't so far from BlackMountain, and if we are ever going to make a real, worth-while member forO. F. F. Out of Sleepy Smith, we have got to begin soon, and, besides, I'msatisfied we will have to use a few extraordinary tactics. We have nursedhim long enough; besides, his spirit is rotten. He has been sittingin there by that fire all evening and hasn't turned his hand to do athing. He will probably want some one to put him to bed, yet, to-night. All the way up the trail he whined and acted like a baby. You rememberthe tricks he pulled off the day we moved the stuff over from Fairviewon the donkeys--sneaked up in the bunk after dinner and went to sleep. You know how we nearly locked him in. He's hurting our crowd. 

"We took him in, you know, because Mr. Allen thought there was so much inhim worth saving. Someway, it hasn't come out yet, and we've got tooperate, do you understand? We've got to scare Sleepy Smith out of hisboots once or twice to see what's in him. Let's do it to-night. If wedon't, next time we bring a crowd up here on a night like this there willbe three or four sitting around the fire doing nothing, and the next timesix or seven, until at last a few of us will be waiting on the wholebunch, do you see?"

"Yes, I see, " replied Willis between chattering teeth; "but how on earthare you going to do it a night like this, with all this crowd?"

"Now, I'll tell you just what I want you to do. I'll pull off the gameand you be my accomplice. We'll take Sleepy out for a snow-bird hunt. Inever heard of one myself, but I'll fix that all right. We'll scare thelife out of that boy this night or bust. All you have to do--there comessome one. "

"Ham, Ham!" called Fat from the cabin; "come on to supper while it'shot. " Then the door closed again. The two started toward the cabin, leaving old Peanuts braying hoarsely in the night. 

"All you have to do, " continued Ham, "is to just swear to all I say. You'll catch on after I get started. Be sure to watch for the chance. I'll tell Fat the scheme, and if I can get Sleepy out of the house for aminute, I'll fix it up with the crowd. " They were just about to enterthe cabin when somewhere in the night came the weird hoot of an owl, anda pale, sickly moon peeped between the clouds. 

"Well, fellows, how do you like that old stone fire-box, anyhow?" Hamquestioned. "I haven't heard a fellow say a word about it yet. That bigblack pot hanging on that crane makes me happy all over. Why, we haveRobinson Crusoe and that last polar expedition beaten a city block. Inever do see a pot hanging over the fire like that but I think of someof the delicious stews that Jim Parker made for us the Christmas vacationwe spent with him out on his ranch in Middle Park. Snowbird stew good? Omy! It has turkey beaten a thousand directions. "

"Snowbird stew?" questioned Chuck. "What in the world is it, Ham? Baconcreamed, or some such stuff?"

"Bacon creamed, nothing, " replied Ham disgustedly. "Snowbirds, just plainsnowbirds. When I was out feeding the mules just now, I heard a wholeflock of snowbirds fly down the canyon. That's what made me think of thestew, I suppose. "

"Well, if they're no bigger than the snowbirds I've seen, " remarked oneboy, "you'd have to have a bushel of them for a meal. "

"Do you mean those saucy little fellows with the white breasts that comewith the first snows?"

"Those are the fellows, " replied Ham, "and of course you need a lot ofthem. But, then, they are so easy to catch if you just get into a flockof them. "

"How do you get them?" inquired Fat, who was always interested inanything new, so long as it had possibilities of something to eat in it. 

"Well, it's a good deal of hard work and some inconvenience until you getstarted. But, O my! the eats the next day! Little fat fellows all steweddown until they're tender. "

"Let's get a bunch, " suggested Willis weakly, watching Ham for a cue. 

"There isn't a gun in the crowd, " laughed one. 

"You could use clubs, couldn't you?" asked another. 

"Well, it's just like this, " continued Ham: "you pick out a couple offellows for the trappers who are strong and husky, and who aren't afraidto do their share of the work. " Ham smiled at Willis. "Then you placethem one at each side of the canyon. You take a shovel, dig a deep holein the snow for the trapper to stand in so he can work easily withoutstooping over. Of course, each trapper has a bag, a gunny-sack, or acommon flour sack will do, and a lantern. You can use a candle all right, if you have no lantern. I've seen very successful hunts conducted byusing candles. The trapper stands with his bag held open between hislegs. It's a good scheme to tie the bag, a side to each knee, so you cankeep the mouth open without using your hands. You'll need them fornumerous other things, probably. The rest of the hunters divide into twoparties, and each party climbs the opposite ridge of the gulch, workingup the canyon without really going through it. In that way the birds arenot disturbed. Then, at a given signal, both parties descend into thecanyon and the hunt begins. Every man must be absolutely silent, for I'veseen one mouthy fellow spoil a whole evening's fun. Now, if any of youfellows are sure you can't keep still for a little, even in a good dealof excitement, you better stay here. If we fail, it will be some one'sfault. " Ham noticed the sly glances that were going back and forthbetween Mr. Allen and Mr. Dean, but he was sure he could count on both ofthem, for they liked real fun as well as any of the boys. 

"The hunters then move down the canyon in a skirmish line, thrashing thebushes with their pine boughs. As they advance the birds will awaken witha shrill little peep and scuttle off through the bushes down the canyonand directly toward the trappers. The birds take just little flights at atime, so you must keep them moving or they will swarm and fly away in apanic. If a flock panic on you, you might as well quit, for every bird inthe canyon will follow. You see this is the game: snowbirds live onlittle bugs that are found in great numbers around the great NorthernLights. When they see those candles flickering there in the great whitequiet, the snow reflecting the long rays out between the dark treetrunks, they think it's the northern lights, and fly straight toward thecandle. All the trapper has to do, then, is to take them in his hand andbag them. Sometimes they come in such great numbers that they fairlyswarm into the bag. When each trapper has enough, he puts his mouth closeto the snow and halloos to the drivers. At the signal they stop huntingand come into camp. Fun, why it's the most fun I ever had in my life! Thefoolish little birds are so easily caught. You see, instead of gettingout and hustling for their food, they think it will all be provided forthem by kind Providence or others, " and Ham smiled. 

"Did you ever eat quail on toast in some of these stylish restaurants?"queried Fat, who had caught onto the game. "Well, all in the world theyare is snowbirds. I suppose there are any number of fellows who make aliving by just that trick. "

A general discussion followed. Every one was ready and anxious for thehunt to commence. Candles were gotten ready and a shovel found. Ham tookPhil, Fat, and Mr. Dean to help him find some sacks that were supposedlydown in the gulch, but in reality to explain to them just what he wantedthem to do. My, what a laugh they did have when they reached the open. Fat was instructed to offer his services as the holder of one bag and tosuggest that Sleepy hold the other. They would plant Sleepy first, thenFat would go on with the bunch. Mr. Dean and Ham would hide themselves inthe brush on either side of Sleepy. Fat would instruct his crowd what wasto be done, and Phil would take charge of the other group. They would godown the canyon, over the ridge, then swing round and come back high onthe hill, so as to completely lose Sleepy, who would be placed whereboth parties could see him by his light, but, of course, he could not seeany of them out in the shadows and the night. 

"If any fellow makes a stir, " continued Ham, "the game is up. Remember, Phil, you are boss of that crowd. "

A difference of opinion had broken out among the rest while Ham and theothers were getting the sacks, for Willis, in a sly way, had suggestedthat the game was a fake, but Sleepy scoffed at the idea. 

"You do just as Ham says, and you'll see it's all true, " cried Sleepyhotly. "He knows more about camping than all the rest of us put together. If you don't want to go, stay here. I'll hold a sack myself, and if Idon't get it full of birds before I come home I'll treat every one ofyou. " Fat entered just in time to hear the foregoing conversation. 

"I'm with you, Sleepy, " he cried. "We'll have snowbirds for breakfast inthe morning. "

"O shucks, " scoffed some one, "there aren't enough snowbirds in Coloradoto fill a sack like that!"

"Well, of all the quitters, " snorted Sleepy. "Just because you haven'tseen the birds is no sign they aren't there. If you don't see and hear alot of things to-night that you never saw before, I'm badly mistaken. Allthat's the matter with you fellows is you're afraid of a little work. "Ham sneezed several times in quick succession, and Fat suddenly hurriedout, slamming the door behind him. Mr. Dean turned his face from thecrowd and energetically poked the fire. From the smiles, it was evidentthat some had caught on and wanted to go along to see the fun, whileothers declared it was a trick, and wouldn't move a step. 

"Too bad we haven't a dozen bags so we could give them all a chance, "laughed Ham, as he and Fat entered the cabin. 

Four remained, the rest trailed off to a little grove of young firs andcut themselves branches to drive snowbirds with. Then up the slope theywent, winding in and out among the tall, silent trees, over snowy logsand around great, jutting boulders, until the top was reached. Thenthey hurried along the narrow ridge until it ended in a stone cliff. Herethey descended again through the trees until the trail on the south sidewas reached. Ham picked out an open place entirely surrounded with aheavy growth of young firs. Just at the edge of the little opening, itsbulk back in the trees, stood a great stone, twelve or fifteen feet inheight. Here Ham began to dig the pit for Sleepy's feet, explaining, ashe worked, that the rock would reflect the light and keep the wind fromblowing it out. Every hunter spoke in subdued whispers. When the hole wasfinished, Sleepy stepped into it, and Ham shoveled in the dirt and snowand tramped it tight about him in order to make room for the bag. It wasfastened to each leg by a stout cord. Ham gave the parting instructions. 

"Light your candle when we get out of hearing, then move it gently backand forth in front of your bag. The first few birds that come willprobably scare you, but remember they are only snowbirds and harmless. "

The party then separated, filing off in either direction, and were soonswallowed up in the long black shadows. All that Sleepy could hear wasthe crunching of feet on the partly-crusted snow. He waited nearlybreathlessly for all sound to cease, and when the last faint echo haddied away it was a very shaky hand that lighted the first match. Ofcourse Sleepy was not frightened--he was only cold! The greasy tip of thenew candle sputtered and flared a moment, then went out. He tried again, but this time the match broke off. He felt himself getting excited. Hehad just two matches left. He must be extremely careful. He struck thethird match on the stone behind him and shaded the candle tip with hishand; but his whole body was so nervous and his hands shook so that hecould hardly hold candle and match together long enough to get the light. At last he succeeded. He stuck the end of the candle in the snow in frontof him while he turned up his collar and pulled his cap down tighter. What was that? His body became rigid, his head went up, his eyes flashed. Was it the snowbirds? He listened intently for an instant, then hequietly relaxed. "Just the kids whacking the brush, I guess, " he said, half-aloud. Then he leaned his back against his rock and waited. Everyfew moments he would gaze cautiously about him, then listen. Here andthere back in the shadows he could see a huddled group of pale, straightforms. He knew they were only aspen trees, still he kept a watchful eyeon them. The night was absolutely quiet and dark except for long, dimly-lighted alleys between the trees, where the candle rays werefrolicking. Here and there he could see the dim outline of a black stump, its little snowcap perched upon its rim. He lifted the candle from itsplace in the snow and waved it gently before the bag, then he pausedcautiously. His imagination had rallied from the cold and was now hisclosest companion. He saw strange shapes flitting here and there amongthe shadows. He heard every now and then a new, strange voice of thewoods. The trees, it seemed to him, were murmuring their disapprovalof such things as snowbird hunts. A myriad of unseen folk were peeping athim from limb and stump and shadow. He knew they were there, even if hecouldn't see them, yet a strong feeling of loneliness crept over him. Itseemed ages since the boys had left him there, still it had been only afew moments. 

His spirit was gradually becoming restless, and he began to wonder ifthere really were any such things as snowbirds, after all. He wished hewas back again in the cabin by the fire. If he thought they were playinga joke on him, he would slip back to the cabin and fool them. He hadhalf a notion to do it anyway. What was the use of his standing there?Which way was the cabin? He sighed and wiped the perspiration from hisforehead. It was just over there, wasn't it? No, that couldn't be. Itmust be over yonder. The trail ran through the grove to his right. Thatcouldn't be, the stream was over there, for he heard it every now andthen. He began talking half-aloud. 

"If the stream is over there, the cabin is over here. " He paused and drewhis hand across his eyes. "No, no, if that were true, the stream wouldflow uphill, and, of course, it doesn't. "

Far away he heard a series of little chirps, faint but unmistakable. Hewas alert in an instant. Yes, that was the snowbirds, and they werecoming. He wondered if Fat heard them and was ready. Where was Fat, anyway? How strange he felt, now he was almost afraid, for he was suresomething was watching him. He shaded his eyes and peered into thegloom, but could see nothing. Far away in the timber it seemed to himhe heard brush snapping--still he knew there was nothing bigger than askunk or a rabbit in the whole valley. Still--and his breath cameshorter; had not a mountain lion been killed on Black Mountain justday before yesterday? His imagination suggested hungry kittens searchingfor a lost mother, and a tremor ran over his body, making his musclesquiver. Was that a snarl? A whine far off, yet near to him? The candleslipped from his shaking fingers and fell in the snow beside him. He madea grab for it, and caught it just before it went out. The sound was nowclearer. Was that the crunch of feet upon the snow? Yes, he heard itplainly. A twig snapped somewhere back of the big rock, then another, then another. There was an answering of the whine. He felt for hispocket ax; but, alas! it was at the cabin--he had no weapon, not even ajack knife. Why had Ham taken the shovel with him? Pshaw! was it reallya sound at all, or was he still in his baby days? No, he was no baby, but--there it was, a low growl, coming nearer and nearer. It flashed uponhim in a second--the hunters had scared up the animal, and it was comingtoward him--toward the light! He felt faint, then sick; but it was notime to be sick! He swallowed at the big lump in his throat and wonderedif the animal really would attack him. He could plainly hear thecrunching in the snow now, and he fancied he saw two green eyes staringat him from the shadows. Yes, and there were voices! He could hear themlaughing. Suddenly a twig near him broke, and another and another. Hecried out in terror, shrill agonized, cries for help. He dropped thecandle in the snow. Just how he got out of the hole where his feet wereburied he could not tell. He started to run, but his legs were stilltied to the bag, and at the first step he fell headlong. He was cryingnow--great sobs shook his frame. He tore the bag free with a jerk andstarted off as fast as the soft snow would let him, shouting "Help!" atthe top of his voice. He stumbled on through the snow, following the lineof least resistance. Finally he emerged from a dark thicket just in timeto see three men and a great dog come out of an opposite thicket. Theylaughed heartily as they turned upward on the trail. The dog's eyes weregleaming green in the half-light, and the one man carried a heavy rifleon his shoulder. The dog turned, sniffed, then whined, but made noattempt to leave his masters. 

The men had evidently not seen him. He stood for a second irresolute, histeeth chattering, his heart pounding, then, turning, he saw the sparksfrom the cabin chimney and in another moment he was safe inside. 

Back in the woods where Sleepy had been planted the rest of the fellowswere shouting and laughing. 

"Yes, I'll take it back, " cried Ham. "Sleepy can go when he gets started, but O my! what a lot it takes to start him! I don't believe he evermoved so fast before, do you? Mr. Dean, you're a wonder on the growlingstunt--I felt kind of queer myself once or twice. " Fat was too far goneto express himself, but stood leaning against the rock, half-choked withlaughter. He had been behind the rock all the time, and had heard allthat Sleepy said. 

"I was dead sure I heard him laughing, " said Phil, "and I thought he hadcaught on to the game. " "So did I, " said Mr. Dean. "I certainly did hearsome one laugh. "

"It must have been Fat trying to choke down his amusement, " dryly addedChuck. "He couldn't keep from laughing at a funny thing on a bet. "

"I am sure of one thing, " said Mr. Allen, "and that is that hereafterSleepy will do his part. I believe he has learned a lesson. You will havea hard time, though, to ever persuade him that he didn't see an animal. "

"Just let him think he did see it, " suggested Phil, "and we'll tell himit serves him right. If he hadn't been so dead anxious to get the easyjob, like he is with everything, he would never have gotten into the messto-night. "

"Yes, that's it, " added Ham; "we must be as solemn as we can and say tohim that we didn't see or hear a bear, lion, or any other animal; thenadd, that if he had just been with us on the job, climbing up canyons, hunting birds, and doing his share, instead of just loafing, he wouldn'thave gotten scared. But, rats! he must know that we have played a joke onhim. "

They finally agreed on a plan, then started back to camp. Ham was to dothe talking. As they entered the cabin they found Sleepy sitting on ablock of wood, looking meditatively into the fire. 

"Well, you're a dandy, " commenced Ham. "We heard you hollering 'Help'and 'Murder. ' We came tearing through the trees to where we left you, andyou were gone. Please explain. Who did you think was going to catch thosebirds? You got tired working so hard, I suppose? Come, now, was there toomuch real work in it?"

Then Fat began in his most disgusted tone: "You might make sure if therewas any real work to be done, Sleepy would get out of it someway. Healways does. Work isn't in his vocabulary. "

"Go easy, " said Mr. Allen in a quiet tone. "Sleepy has made lots ofmistakes, and he hasn't begun to do his share of the work here yet, buthe's going to do different from now on, I'm sure. Why did you leave yourpost, Sleepy?" He came forward and laid his hand on Sleepy's shoulder. Sleepy shaded his face with his hand, for the tears were trickling downhis cheeks, and he spoke with real effort. 

"They frightened me terribly, " he said. "I'm sorry. " Then he rose fromhis seat, took his cap from the table, and went into the night. Thefellows crowded up to the fire to warm their cold feet and talk it over. Mr. Allen was firm in his belief that Sleepy had good stuff in him, andhe believed they were going to get it out at last. 

"He knows he hasn't played fair, fellows, and he's out there now, squaring up with himself. To-night our friend, Sleepy, wins or loses agreat fight in his life. If he loses, let's not be too hard on him. If hewins, let's help him. Remember, it's the 'Other Fellow First' in thisbunch. " They sat quietly looking into the fire for some minutes, then Hambroke the silence. 

"Fellows, I believe I understand for the first time in my life anexpression that always used to bother me. When my father invited me intothe woodshed when I was a kid, he always prefaced each performancewith this remark, 'Son, it hurts me a great deal more than it's going tohurt you. ' After the performance I used to ponder that statement over andover and wonder how it could possibly be true. In fact, I didn't believeit then, but now I do. Sleepy needed a good punishment; but, O my, I feelmean, now that it's over!"

"We are often called on to do unpleasant things for the welfare ofothers, " remarked Mr. Dean; "but if Sleepy finds himself to-night, and Ibelieve he will, we will all be glad we did it, himself included. " Aftera little time Sleepy came in. His step was steady and his manner easy. Ham shot a curious glance at him from the corner of his eye. He saw thatSleepy was smiling, and he felt a strange thrill, for he knew Sleepy hadwon. Sleepy came to the fire, and in a clear voice addressed the crowd:

"Fellows, I have something I would like to say before we go to bed. " Itwas very difficult for him to go on. "I am ashamed of myself to-night. Iknow I have never played fair with you fellows here, for I'm lazy--Ialways have been. You know I am the only child, and I have been spoiled, for I've been taught to always let some one else do the work. I'msorry. " He stopped, and in the pause he became confused. 

"But--but--I'm going to do better, if you'll give me another chance. I'vejust had a little argument with Sleepy Smith outside, and I whipped himin a fair fight. There is no more Sleepy; after this it's George Smith, if you please. Sleepy and this crowd have had a falling out. Will yougive me another chance?" he asked anxiously. 

Ham was the first to cry out:

"Bet your life we will, old boy, put it there!" He rose and they shookhands. 

"Sure thing!" cried Fat. 

"Of course we will!" echoed Phil. 

"Three cheers for Smith!" came from the others. 

"Thanks, " was all Smith said, then he sat down and Mr. Allen took thefloor. He had caught his cue from what Smith had said:

"Fellows, I think we, too, have made a mistake, and as long as Smith hasbeen man enough to square himself with us, let us be men enough to squareourselves with him. We have always called him Sleepy, and he has beentrue to the name; but I never knew a boy yet who didn't live up to whathis best friends expected of him. Smith always knew we didn't expectmuch, didn't you, boy? Now, let's expect more, and we'll get more. Smith, we, too, are sorry. Let's expect the best from every fellow and everyfellow will give his best, although it will take real manhood to do itsometimes. "

Ham and Willis went out to take a last look at the donkeys before goingto bed. As they stood on the step, talking things over, they werestartled to hear, somewhere in the night air, the long-drawn bark of adog. It came again and again. "Over in the next canyon, " was Ham'sremark. "Up by the old mine, " was Willis's thought, as he turned and wentinto the cabin. 

After breakfast Willis took the trail that led to his father's mine. Hewent alone, for he had told no one of its discovery, not even Ham. He wasnot at all surprised to find the footprints of three men and a dog on theupper trail, and found no difficulty in following them to the mine. Oncethere, the first thing that attracted his attention was a new sign, nailed up in the place of the old tin one; on it, in bold, black letters, was written, "Private property, keep off!" The snow had been shoveledfrom one end of the dump, and it looked very much as if some of the rockshad been carried away. Willis wondered, but his reflections gave him nolight. He noticed, however, that the tracks did not return down thetrail, but ran off over the hill and into the next canyon. He made somecareful observations, then returned to the cabin. 

Upon Mr. Dean's suggestion, the morning was spent in tobogganing in woodwhile the snow was good. It was great fun to see the great logs slidedown with a long swish and pile up in front of the cabin. The fellowsworked with a will, and by noon a large supply had been pulled in. Thenext thing was to cut it and pile it away in the house. Smith undertookto build a sawbuck, and, with Mr. Allen's help, the job was soonaccomplished. Every fellow then took his turn sawing off blocks untildinner time. 

As they sat around the table enjoying a camp meal of fried ham, boiledrice, potatoes, rye bread, and coffee, a general discussion arose as towhat the cabin should be named. They hoped to get the big bed filled withbalsam boughs that afternoon before they started home, then the placewould be ready for real use on a big scale; and, of course, it must havea name. 

"Let's call it Snowbird Retreat, " suggested Fat naively. 

"Not on your life!" called Smith good-naturedly. "No snowbirds about thishouse; you want a good, warm, comfortable name. I'd freeze to death, ormaybe get scared, if you called it that. "

"St. Mary's Inn, " suggested Ham. 

"O fiddle, sounds like an old Spanish mission, " objected another. 

"The House that Ham Built, " suggested Mr. Dean. 

"Buffalo Roost, " suggested Willis. "We certainly do love to roost aroundin here, and it's in Buffalo Canyon. " After a very heated discussion, Buffalo Roost was chosen for the name, and Willis set about gatheringtwigs to make a rustic sign for over the door. 

The wood all in, the dinner dishes washed, and the cabin put in order, the next thing to do was to thatch the big bed. O, what mountains ofsweet-scented green boughs it took! One party, under Mr. Dean, pulledin pile after pile of boughs from up on the snow-covered hillside, whilethe other party cut and trimmed and laid them in. Choice large fans werelaid in the bottom, the butts toward the foot, the bow of the branchuppermost. Then a thick layer of fine sprigs to fill in every hollow. Smith worked with a will, and enjoyed the day like he had no other sincethe work on the cabin had begun. 

Never before had they so hated to leave the Roost, for every fellow wascoming to love it and its companionship. It gave plenty of healthfulaction, good things to think about, and warm friends. It was buildingcharacter and they did not know it. It was fitting a choice group ofolder fellows to work together in the community life about them, workingfor the welfare and comfort of others, forgetting themselves in theirunselfish service. 

In the late afternoon it began to snow again, and by the time they werewell on their way home it was falling fast. 

"Getting in that wood was a wise stunt, " observed Smith, "for the nexttime we see the old Roost it will probably be snowbound. "

Old Ben had been watching for their return most of the afternoon. As theycame across the stream and up to the road below the inn, he called Mr. Allen to the door. 

"I jist want t' ask ye if that tarnal varmit, Williams, has beenbotherin' yew fellers any sence he started work on that new claim o'hisn. If they ever was a sneakin' whelp, he's it. He couldn't getpossession o' Tad's tunnel; he darsent touch it, so he's gone an' starteda tunnel on the other side o' that dyke. He's been workin' it, now, offan' on all this fall, but I didn't know it till they brought a woundedman from there yesterday. Seem a stone mashed his foot bad. They stoppedhere to rest a bit, an' I seed the feller. I've knowed him these tenyears, an' he's a devil. Does dirty work fer any tarnal critter at'll payhim well fer it. Served him right. I s'pose you saw something of themlast night, as they went back up to the mine. There was three of 'em anda mean lookin' dog. " Mr. Allen listened in silence. He was wondering justwhat Old Ben knew of this Williams, and why he should be so interested inthe boys at the cabin. 

"Ben, " he said, and he looked the old man straight in the eye, "do youknow a man named Tad Kieser?" Ben dropped his eyes and shuffled his footaimlessly on the floor. 

"Yep, I know him, boy, an' a finer man never walked these here hills. Toofine a man to get along with varmits!"

"Is he still living, Ben?"

"Yep, still livin'. He'll be a poppin' up in these parts one o' thesedays, an' then you'll see who's boss at that tunnel up yonder. I'vealways said they was gold there, but Tad never would go into the mineagain after the accident. That varmit, Williams, believes same as I do, or he wouldn't be a diggin' that hole on t' other side o' the dyke. If heer any o' the rest o' them fellers bothers ye any at the cabin, jist letme know; I'll take ker o' them fer ye. Good-night. " He went inside andclosed the door. Mr. Allen hurried along, and, catching up with thecrowd, he called Willis aside to tell him what Ben had said--all exceptthat Tad was living and Ben knew where he was. That much he kept secret. Willis listened intently, then he told of how he heard the dog bark inthe night. 

When Willis reached the Association that evening he was handed atelephone call. He noted that it was the home number, and he realized inan instant what had happened. His aunt had grown very much worse Fridaynight, and had died early Saturday morning. He hastened home to do whathe could and to comfort his mother. 

CHAPTER XIV

The Opened Door

It was nearly Thanksgiving time, and it seemed months to Willis since hehad been to Buffalo Roost. Mrs. Thornton had almost decided to return toher father's since the death of her sister, but Willis had objectedseriously. He was determined to unravel the mine mystery before theyleft. They were still living at the Williams's home, but they saw verylittle of the uncle. The death of his wife had been a severe blow to him, and he had been spending long periods of time in the mountains--no oneseemed to know just where. 

During Thanksgiving vacation Mr. Allen was going to have a three days'camp at the Roost, so Ham and Willis were planning on making apreliminary trip, to find out how deep the snow was and just whatcondition the canyon was in. 

The circus was over, and had been a big success; enough money had beenraised to pay all the debts and leave a nice amount for futureimprovements. Meanwhile Ham and Willis had become inseparable companions, so much so, that Willis had taken him into the mystery of his father'smine. Very often they had talked it over together, but neither had yetarrived at any satisfactory conclusions. The day chosen for their tripturned out to be bitter cold; but the other fellows were depending onthem, and they must not fail. They found it very difficult to climbthe hogsback because of the snow, so when they reached the railroad theydecided to follow it to Fairview rather than attempt the canyon trail. Asthey plodded on they grew very cold. 

"There is a dandy little pile of pitch-pine shavings on the hearth, " saidHam; "it won't take long to get a fire. We'll play a joke on this coldsnap yet, when we get inside the cabin. " The walking was not bad untilthey reached the crest, but here the trail lay on the south side andwas completely filled with snow. Many of the drifts were shoulder-deep, so it took them nearly an hour to force their way from the ridge to thecabin. Ham, to his surprise, had great difficulty in opening the lock; itwas evident that it had been tampered with. As they entered, he noticedthat his little pile of shavings were gone from the hearth. Some one hadbeen inside!

How much heat it seemed to take that night to warm that frigid air! Theypiled in the great logs until the fireplace was full, and still they hadto sit close to keep warm. Slowly the cold was driven out, and the cabinbecame more comfortable. Willis took the water bucket and an ax and wentout to the stream for water, but the ice was a foot thick and the waterso cold that it froze in the bucket before he got it back to the cabin. As he set the bucket on the shelf, he noticed that the mirror which hungabove the bucket was broken into a thousand pieces. No doubt a bullet hadcome in through the chinking. Was this a declaration of war? Or hadsome rowdy just been showing off? They examined things carefully, butfound nothing missing but the chips, not even food. Ham could not imaginewhy the kindling had been removed from the hearth, for he was positivethat no fire had been built in either the stove or the fireplace sincethey had last been there. 

After they had warmed sufficiently, they began to think of supper. Hamselected a can of clam soup from the shelf and opened it, but it wasfrozen solid. He set it by the fire to thaw out and made a secondselection. This time he chose a can of beans, but found them in the samecondition. He looked in the bread box--the rye-bread was as hard as abullet. They pulled the table close up before the fire and made out asupper, the best thing on the menu being a pot of boiling-hot tea. 

After supper they pulled down the blankets and carefully warmed thembefore the fire. Then the two boys sat and planned concerning the comingcamp until they grew sleepy. After a great pine knot had been placed forthe night log, the boys slipped into bed between at least a dozenblankets. 

Just before going to bed, Willis prepared a few choice slivers so that afire could be quickly started in the morning, and he left them in alittle pile on the hearth. In the night he heard strange noises down onthe floor, but, because it was so cold, he did not venture out toinvestigate, and in the morning every chip was gone. The mystery of thechips grew deeper. 

They lay in bed late next morning, for the cabin was cold and dark andthey were so comfortable. Time was nothing to them that day. As they lay, chatting, Ham suddenly squeezed Willis's arm, then raised on his elbow tolisten. He heard voices, and they were coming up the canyon. He crawledto where he could peep out of the window, but all he could see were thefeet of two men and a dog. The cabin was very cold, so he slipped backbetween the blankets to warm and talk it over with Willis. About nineo'clock they got up, still wondering what could have brought men intothat canyon on such a morning. 

Surely there was no hunting, and why should men from the claim in theother gulch be coming up through Buffalo Park? The boys were bothered. They were just sitting down to a breakfast of steaming-hot cakes whenfrom somewhere up in the timber came the clear sound of some onehammering on metal, heavy blow after blow. Ham paused, listenedattentively, a forkful of hot cake raised half-way to his mouth. Thesound came very clearly and at regular intervals. 

"Sounds like some one pounding a stone drill; perhaps they are going todo some blasting!"

Willis rose from his seat, threw open the door, and looked up the snowyhillside. He was right--the sound came from the direction of his father'smine. 

"What on earth would any one be blasting up there for?" he said, half tohimself. He was thinking of what Ben had told him the last time he was atthe Roost. Ham had also risen from the table and stood looking out overWillis's shoulder. The bark of a dog came floating down the canyon. 

Suddenly there was a sharp rattle in the corner of the cabin, followed bya heavy thud. Ham turned quickly, just in time to see the ax fall to thefloor from its place in the corner. Willis felt a long, cold shiver creepup his back. The ax had been laid on top of the little stove in thecorner, and something had caused it to fall. 

"Spooks, " laughed Ham dryly. 

"What made that ax fall?" questioned Willis in a voice which betrayed hisfeeling. They advanced cautiously toward the corner. There was a scamperof tiny feet, and a large gray rat bounded across the floor and droppedout of sight through a long opening between the floor and the wall. In amoment Willis was down on his hands and knees, investigating. 

"Well, of all things, " he said, as he looked up laughingly at Ham; "wehave located our mysterious robber. Here are all of our precious firestarters. " Ham stooped to see for himself, and there, under the stove inthe corner, was a neat little pile of pine slivers. 

"If that rat lived in the city, " observed Ham, "he'd be a shoplifter, sure. It's strange he hasn't stolen our food?"

"Ham, I'm going to the mine. Do you want to stay here or go along?" Hamthought a moment, then began to pull on his coat. As he passed thefireplace, he threw on another log, then the two boys stepped out intothe morning air. Ham carefully locked the door behind them--he alwaystook that precaution. 

"I'd like to know who tried to get into this house, Willis?" he said asthey struck the trail following the footprints of the earlier party upthe canyon. The sound of hammering still came occasionally from the hill. 

"Perhaps it was the same men that passed this morning, " replied Willis. "I wonder why they didn't stop and try the door; they must have seen thatit was unlocked. "

"Perhaps they wanted to pass unnoticed. "

"No, that couldn't be, for they were talking loudly as they passed. "

"Perhaps they didn't notice the cabin door at all. "

"Perhaps not, but they must have noticed our trail over the bridge andyour footprints to the stream. "

"O, I don't know; it snowed in the night, and besides, you see they wereon the upper trail. They evidently came for some special purpose, andwere anxious to get at it. You know, I've been thinking they must havecome from Bruin Inn this morning, because they couldn't have gotten hereso early if they had come all the way from the city. "

"By Jove, boy! I hadn't thought of that, but since you speak of it, therecertainly was something familiar in one of those voices, and that laugh!Why, of course, it was Old Ben, his dog, and some stranger. "

Progress was slow, for the snow was deep in places. At the oldtumbled-down cabin the trail turned and ran up the mountain side. Willis felt a strange pounding at his heart. The noise on the mountainhad stopped, but every now and then he heard the sound of voices fromsomewhere up in the timber. As they reached the last turn in thetrail, the two figures came into view. Ham had been correct in hissupposition--one of the men was Old Ben, but the other was a stranger. Ben had, no doubt, seen the boys coming, for he stood looking down thetrail toward them. When they were a little nearer he saluted them:"Howdy, young'uns. This is a tarnal cold morning for a pair o' cityfellers, ain't it?"

"Not on your life, " cheerily answered Ham; "there's nothing citifiedabout us. Any one who could sleep in these hills a night like last nightand not freeze is no tenderfoot. What brings you up here so early thismorning?"

"Early, boys? You're so tarnal lazy, you think dinner time is early. Seeanything o' my dog round the cabin?"

"No, we haven't seen him, except when you went by a while ago. "

Willis was interested in what the stranger was doing. He was bent over abig rock, filing a metal instrument. His back was turned. Willis waslooking about to see what they could have been hammering, but could seeno sign of their work. 

"Prospecting a little?" queried Ham, as he picked up the light sledgethat lay on the snow. 

"Well, not jist exactly, " drawled Old Ben; "it's too tarnal cold to domuch prospectin'. We're jist on an observin' trip this time. "

"Observing the scenery, or what?" persisted Ham. "We heard you doing somemighty loud observing up here a few minutes ago. Come, now, no secrets. What are you up to? Do you know you are trespassing this very moment?"

"Trespassin', eh? Well, I expect Old Ben knows when he's trespassin' an'when he ain't. This time he ain't. " He turned to the stranger andcontinued: "I jist come along to give my friend here a little moralsupport. He's so tarnal foolish about this old hole. "

"Not foolish, Ben, " answered the stranger, as he turned from his work, "not foolish, but--why, good morning, lad!" He advanced with extendedhand toward Willis. 

Willis could hardly believe his own eyes. What was this man doing here?

"It seems like our paths cross often, doesn't it?"

"Why, I--" exclaimed Willis. 

"I know you are surprised, " continued the stranger, "but no more so thanI, for I didn't expect to find you here on such a morning as this. "

"But what are you doing here?" stammered Willis. "What is there aboutthis mine that is of interest to you? This mine is my father's property, and it's locked--the tunnel, I mean--"

"Yes, I know, lad, " he interrupted. "I know it does seem strange, but itisn't half as strange to you as it is to me, and besides--"

"But, sir, how dare you tamper with locked property?"

"Lad, " and the stranger spoke in that same quiet, kindly voice that hadattracted Willis the first time he had seen him, "do you remember thatfall day when we last talked together? Up back of Daddy Wright's on theCheyenne trail?"

"Yes, sir, I do, " replied Willis, "and I remember every word you said, but--"

The stranger lifted his hand for silence, and then continued: "And do youremember you asked me if I had ever known a young engineer that used tobe in these parts, and I said, 'Yes;' then you asked me if I knew a TadKieser that used to be a partner of his, and I told you I did?"

"Yes, yes, I remember all that, " interrupted Willis; "but what has thatto do with this mine?"

"A very great deal, my boy. Listen! I know Tad Kieser better than any manalive, and of all the men I ever knew, Tad is the strangest. I believe heowns a half interest in this property, does he not? But he hasn't beennear it for half a dozen years, and to my knowledge he has never beeninside of it since the day of the accident. What's more, my boy, there'sjust one thing in all the world that could ever induce him to enter itagain--"

"What is the one thing?" questioned Ham. 

"If it wasn't for the advice of old Ben here, I would not be here to-day, either; but Ben and I have been friends these twenty years, and in thattime I have learned to know that Ben's opinions are expressed only aftera very careful consideration of all the facts. I'm here because Old Beninsisted that I come. "

Willis turned and looked at Ben. He stood by, smiling and puffing away athis pipe. "But what has all that to do with Tad Kieser?" questionedWillis a little disappointedly. "Of all the men in the world I would likemost to see, it's Tad. Tell me where he is, if you know. "

"But why do you want to see him so badly, may I ask?" questioned thestranger. 

"Because he is the only man in the world that can straighten out a tangleof things that I don't understand. And I'm sure that if he knew I washere, he'd come to help me. "

Old Ben came to the rescue. 

"Boy, Tad would do anything in the great, wide world fer ye. He's talkedabout ye every tarnal day since he first seen ye, an' they ain't beennothin' in his mind since, except yer welfare. Ye are a tarnal luckyfeller to have such a friend. "

"Saw me?" questioned Willis. "Tad Kieser saw me?"

"Yes, boy, an' is a lookin' at ye now, an' is out in this cold here ferye this mornin', a breakin' of vows he made long ago. Tad, tell the boyall about it. This young feller an' me is goin' to look up that tarnaldog. " He took Ham by the arm and drew him away down the trail out ofhearing. Tad and Willis were busy at the lock of the old tunnel. Old Benexplained the situation to Ham as they leisurely hunted the dog. At lastHam understood, and was happy for Willis. 

"My, but you look pert, Tad. I ain't seed ye look so pert in ten year. What's up? Come, tell a feller. Has that young'un been stuffin' ye whilewe was gone?" and Ben laughed a merry laugh. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were Tad the first day?" questioned Willis, his eyes shining with pleasure. 

"I'll tell you why some time, " replied the old miner, "but not now. Iwould never have consented to come up here this morning with Ben if I hadnot suspected that Mr. Williams intended to enter this tunnel very soon. Perhaps you know how he hates me. I caught him in a mighty crooked dealhere once, and scared him badly. He and I have fought each other eversince the death of your father. He holds the keys to this lock, that'swhy I'm cutting it off. We're going to replace it with another. When youruncle comes he will find I have been ahead of him. "

"And you aren't going into the tunnel?" questioned Willis inastonishment. 

"No, lad, not to-day. I don't know as I ever will. "

"Tell me all about the trouble between you and my uncle. How does ithappen that he holds the key to this lock instead of you? Mother told meyou had the key?" questioned Willis. 

"I did once, but when I refused to let him enter, he came with a hacksawand removed the lock, placing this great brass one in its stead. Youruncle was the only person with your father when he died, except thenurse, and he has always claimed that Bill turned all his mining propertyover to him. He offered to buy me out, but I refused to sell. 

"Nearly a year after your father's death, I learned from a nurse in thehospital that in his last moments your father called for me, but Williamstold him that I was badly hurt. He told your uncle that the real goldvein had been uncovered by the fatal blast, and that I was to be sure towork it for your sake and your mother's. Williams promised to tell me. I tried to get the nurse to go into court and swear to her statement, butshe refused, and I found out afterward that Williams had bought her off. I went and looked at the tunnel; then he broke in, took samples, and, Ibelieve, found them good. He locked the door with this lock, and sincethe day of the accident I have never seen inside. I have never wanted to. I don't know, but I have always been determined that he should notplunder your father's possessions. At the time of the accident he cameinto possession of all your father's papers. He let the assessments runout on the Cheyenne claim, and then jumped it for his own. Only lastmonth he sold that claim to Beverly H. Pembroke for a consideration ofeight thousand dollars. 

"He hates me, because he knows that one more move on his part and I'llplace the matter in the hands of the law. I believe that he once hired anoutlaw to kill me, but was unsuccessful. I can't prove it, but the factslook so. I have been afraid ever since I knew you were here that yourmother, as the rightful heir to the property, would play into his hands. I feared he would offer to sell her share of this mine for her and, inreality, buy it himself. He could then, according to law, force me tosell my share or to buy his. If I refused to sell, he would ask a verylarge sum for his, and in that way force me to his bargain. His workingthe tunnel on the other side of the dyke this fall and winter is more toscare me into believing he will get the gold anyway, and that I may aswell sell, than anything else. I have learned that they are havinga great deal of trouble in their tunnel. It's very shaly and keeps cavingfrom above. If he spent as much time and money caring for his sick wifeas he has on this mine, she might have gotten well. "

Willis had been listening with breathless interest. 

"Go on, " he begged. "Tell me all about everything, from the verybeginning. "

"Lad, it's a long, long story. I'll do that later. Let's not talk anymore about it now. "

"O, I must know about it. Don't stop. Tad, you can't possibly know whatall this means to me. " Tad rose and snapped the new lock in place on thedoor, while Old Ben cursed under his breath. 

"Of all the tarnal idiots, " he was saying; "I never seed a man so sot inhis ways. Tad, ain't ye even goin' to peek inside?"

"No, Ben, not to-day. Perhaps some day, " returned the old prospector, "and perhaps never. "

Willis jumped to his feet. "Not to-day, Tad? Not to-day? Do you mean youaren't going into the mine. Well, I am, even if you aren't. I don't leavethis spot until I see the inside for myself. Give me the key. Ham and Iwill go in alone. "

"O, I wish you wouldn't. It's dangerous, and I am sure the story of thegold is only a notion. Your father was out of his mind when he died, andthe gold he told about was just one of his dreams. I worked with him thatday, and I saw no special signs of gold. "

"Yes, but that varmit, Williams, has seed signs, " muttered Ben. "He wentin an' brought out samples; he knows, an' you only think you do. "

Willis held out his hand for the key, and Ben urged him on. Tad lookedfar away over the snowy hills, then up the quiet valley, so peaceful inits white robes, and at last down to the little cabin below. There hisgaze rested. 

"My, but it hardly seems fourteen years since I built that shanty, " hesaid. "How happy I was then! Fourteen years brings strange things into aman's life. My boy, I hope you will never get the gold fever. Steer clearof it. "

"But Tad, I have it already, " replied Willis, "and I am following whereit leads me. "

Tad looked at him, and a strange, sad expression came to his face. 

"How much you talk like your father, and you're so like him, too! I'msorry. "

He reached deep into his trousers' pocket, pulled out the key, then gotslowly to his feet. Twice he changed his mind; but Willis persisted, andat last he yielded. The new lock opened easily, but not so the great logdoor. Its hinges were rusted from the storms of many seasons. As Willispulled hard, the old hinges groaned, as if regretting that they were tobe disturbed after so long a rest. As the door swung back, and the mouthof the tunnel was disclosed, Tad caught Willis by the arm and held him. "Wait, my boy, " he said, "you must let the old place air out. Remember, it has been bottled up a long time. I'll wager a light won't even burnin there just now. "

"Have you a candle?" asked Willis, his tone betraying his excitement. 

"I'll get some, " volunteered Ham, and off he started down the trail forthe cabin. 

The tunnel was a round, irregular hole a little higher than a man's head, and in width it varied with the width of the dyke. The floor had beencovered with rough-hewn planks to make the pushing of the loadedwheelbarrows easier. These old planks were black and wet, but still quitesound. As they stood, waiting for Ham to return, Tad told Willissomething more of the early history of the mine:

"You see, the dyke seems to follow an ancient crevice in the granite, which runs straight in for a hundred and fifty feet, then turns abruptlyto the west. Here it widens out, and just at that point the strata shiftsand is folded. We found a small quantity of quartz just there. The day ofthe accident I was replacing some of the floor planks near the entranceand your father was preparing to make a series of blasts on the newstrata. I was to help him shoot them when he was ready. He was verypleased at the new outcropping of quartz, and was very anxious to openup the vein before we quit work for the day. The farther in you go, themore shaly the black rock seems to get, and in some places we were forcedto roof the drift with mine props in order to keep the ceiling up. I wasbending over, chopping the end of a plank, when I was violently knockeddown. In falling I struck my head against the rough wall, cutting myselfbadly over the left eye. I struggled to my feet dazedly, the bloodstreaming down over my face. I had mined long enough to know just whathad happened. In some way your father had prematurely set off his blast. I started toward him, but the heavy powder smoke drove me back. I droppedto my knees to get the air--it's always best near the floor--and ina moment a second explosion came. I snatched the jug of water and begancrawling toward Bill on all fours. I called again and again, but noanswer came. When I finally reached him I felt faint and sick. I foundhim nearly completely buried in a heap of stone. He was unconscious, and never spoke to me again. After two hours of tremendous effort, I wasable to lift his poor, broken body in my arms and carry it out. I wasthankful then that he was unconscious and could not feel the pain. Bynight I got him to the cabin, and at once set off for Ben's. We cameback by lantern light that night, and led the old horse. We spent therest of the night building a crude litter of poles and blankets, and assoon as it was light we fastened one end of the stretcher to the horse, apole on either side of him, and each one of us carried a pole at theother end. It took an hour for us to get down to the canyon road. Intwelve hours your father died. He regained consciousness just long enoughto talk with Williams briefly. What he said at that time I have neverbeen able to find out. 

"Then followed the awful years of lonesomeness for me, made worse by thealways-present knowledge that I should have been the one to shoot thoseblasts and not your father. I wrote your mother fully concerning theaccident, but never received a reply, so have had no word of you sincethat time. I've told you how your uncle tried to get possession of themine. When I would not sell, he hounded my every step until at last Ileft the city and went to work for the D. & P. W. As fireman. I wentthrough the city often, but very rarely stopped off. But it seems I camejust often enough to keep your uncle too frightened to carry out his planconcerning the tunnel. "

Ham was returning up the trail now, and soon the candles were lighted. Tad took the lead, followed by Willis, Ham and Old Ben bringing up therear. A little inside the entrance, and to one side, a small room hadbeen cut in the solid granite for a store-room. Here were the tools ofthe mine--two wheelbarrows, several shovels and picks, a large lantern, and several boxes of powder. What had once been a heavy coil of hemp ropewas now a very comfortable rat's nest. Several old stone drills had beendriven into the crevices for hooks, and on them hung old burlap sacks, acoil of heavy wire, two old slouch hats, and a man's coat. 

Tad had bared his head as he entered. He slowly led the way down thenarrow lane without a word. A little farther in they came to a very rustyax, leaning against the wall, and Willis guessed that it had never beenmoved from where Tad had last used it. The large, blackened chips werescattered over the floor, and the great plank lay where he had lastworked on it. Tad was very cautious now, trying the props overhead everyfew feet, to see if they were safe. Willis was walking as if in a dream;he was stepping very softly and his head was bowed. This was the verypath his father had trod. He fancied he heard his cheery voice now, as hecame and went with load after load of rock. He fancied how he must havefelt as he worked day by day, ever surer of the fortune that was to behis. He found himself wondering how his life's course might have beenchanged if that golden dream had come true. The tunnel turned abruptly tothe west, and Tad moved more cautiously still. Presently Tad halted andpointed to a heap of rock on the floor, "It was there, lad, " he said veryquietly, and that was all. Willis stooped and placed his hand on theplace for a second. Tad noticed that his face was white and drawn and hiseyes were very big. He let him stay for an instant, then took him gentlyby the arm and led him out. 

Old Ben made a hasty examination of the rocks on the floor, then of theexposed vein. He handed the candle to Ham, and, drawing from his pocket aheavy cold chisel, he carefully knocked off some choice pieces of the oreand placed them in his pocket, muttering to himself all the while. Whenhe had satisfied himself, he turned, took the candle, and started out, motioning Ham to precede him. 

"Best gold quartz I've seed in many a year, " he said softly, "only Tadwill never believe it. " Ham understood. Ahead of them, down the narrowblack passage, they saw Tad's light disappear. 

"They have stepped into the tool-room, boy, " said Ben, "an' every tarnalone o' them implements is nearly sacred to Tad. Let's not disturb 'em. "He blew out his light and leaned against the wall of the tunnel, pullingHam back with him. 

In a few minutes they were surprised to hear loud exclamations and themoving of the old iron wheelbarrows. Ahead they could see the light ofthe opening, so Old Ben started again toward the entrance. 

"Guess that memorial service must be all over, from the racket they'remakin' with them tarnal carts, " he said. 

When they reached Willis, they found him carefully going through thepockets of the musty old coat hanging upon the wall. The cloth had fairlyrotted in the moisture. Tad was holding the treasures as Willis removedthem from the pockets. To Tad's surprise, there was inside the coat anold vest. They were no doubt the clothes Mr. Thornton had worn the dayof the accident. In one vest pocket was Bill's gold watch, in another amusty pocketbook and a badly worn note-book that had mildewed in themoisture. There were three letters in the outside coat pocket. Willistook one, moist and rotten as it was, from the envelope and noticed theywere from his mother, and were probably the last ones she had written. Willis's hand shook violently and two great tears glistened in his eyes. In the other outside pocket was a strange tin tube, perhaps a foot inlength, with a removable lid at either end. The tube was rusted red andthe ends sealed tight with rust. Willis handed the tube to Tad, aquestion on his lips. 

"Thank God, " Tad was saying to himself, "thank God, he didn't do it. I've often thought I'd kill him if he had. "

"If who had what?" questioned Willis. 

"Don't ask me, lad, not now--I'll tell you some time, perhaps. Come, let's go. This air is very bad, and I'm just a little sick. " He linkedhis arm through Willis's, and together they walked out into the coldmorning air. Ben and Ham followed. When they were outside, Tad swung thedoor shut and locked it. Then, with a note of triumph in his voice, hesaid:

"There, Williams can have the place for all I care, " and he held thequeer tin tube in his hand before them. 

"Open it, " urged Willis. Tad turned to him. 

"My boy, there has never been a day in the past half-dozen years that Ihave not wondered what became of that tin tube. Many times, after hoursof reasoning, I have decided that your uncle stole that tube from yourfather's belongings. I have done the man an injustice. From my firmbelief that he had taken the tube came my great dislike for him. You havenever seen the contents of that can, lad, but your mother has. At onetime they were very valuable, and I have no doubt that even now that cancontains a small fortune for you--"

"But--" interrupted Willis. Tad paid no attention to him, and went on:

"The contents of that tube will place your father among the greatest ofmining engineers and give his name the honor it has always been entitledto--"

"But Tad--"

"When your father conceived that idea it was impractical. He was too farahead of the times. But to-day, lad, it means that every mine dump in theCripple Creek region will be worked over again and the gold removed at atrifling expense, for in that tube are the blueprints of the greatestelectrical ore-roasting machine in the world. " He took his knife from hispocket and slowly and carefully pried off the rusty lid. The blue rollslid out into his hand. The moisture had not penetrated the can, and thesketches were as good as the day they were made. Willis took them in hishand and proudly turned them over and over, then he placed them again inthe can with the remark, "Tad, these things all belong to mother. Iwonder what she'll say?"

Tad broke into a pleased little laugh, and the old smile that had madehim so many friends in the years gone by came back to his grizzled face. 

"Lad, you're rich to-day, and I am better satisfied. Those plans willbring you and your mother a goodly sum. It lifts a great burden from apoor, worthless prospector's mind. " Willis did not know the true meaningof the words, but Old Ben did, and it was now his turn to talk. 

"Tad, I've knowed ye for a tarnal lot o' years, hain't I? An', Tad, theyain't a soul on earth as would do fer ye as me. I've lived a life myself, Tad, an' I ain't so big a fool as ye are about some things. " Ben pulled apiece of the ore from his pocket and held it up for inspection. "Tad, there's a twenty-inch vein of that rock in yonder, an' finer gold quartzye never seed in all yer days. " He turned to Willis: "Boy, ye'r tarnallucky. Them plans may be valuable, but I have my doubts about it; butit's certain that that mine is valuable. Jist how much gold they isthere, I don't know, but they is lots of it. Two or three more weeks an'Williams would have struck it from the other side. Now listen, lad: sellout, do you hear me, sell out. It'll bring a handsome price on assay; butsell now, or Williams--" and his voice dropped to a mysterious whisperand he looked suspiciously about him, "or Williams will get the best ofye yet. "

After more talk and discussion, the whole party went down to the cabin, and Ham prepared a special supper. After the meal was over, all sat andtalked before the fireplace, and the entire story was gone over again indetail. Towards late afternoon they began the down trip through thecanyon. 

At the inn Tad promised to come the next day to the city to meet Mrs. Thornton. Together they would confer about the newly-discovered facts. 

"Don't wait too tarnal long to sell, boy, or something will happen. Tad'sunlucky. Sell if ye can, an' I'd make that tarnal critter, Williams, buythe whole business, if I was you. "

Tad and Willis stood some time talking, Willis then took the plans andthe other things that had been in his father's coat, and started home. They walked in silence for some time, then Willis spoke:

"O, Ham, I'm so happy to-day, and still--" He paused and the smile fadedfrom his face. "Still, why should I be happy? Do these plans and thatgold mine up there give me back my dear old dad?"

"Not really, " replied Ham, "but perhaps those things he left you willmake it possible for you to accomplish in this world the things he hadhoped to do, and perhaps better things. " The little smile came back againto Willis's face. 

"Ham, you're really a philosopher. I'll do my very best, I'll tell youthat. Now, let's hurry. "

CHAPTER XV

In Which Fate Takes a Hand

Four days later Tad and Ben sat before the log-fire at the inn talkingover plans for the future development of the mine in Buffalo Park. Tadwas telling Ben of his visit with Mrs. Thornton and what her wishes werein regard to the matter. It seemed that Mr. Williams was out of the cityand had been gone for several days. Just where he was no one seemed toknow, but as he had taken several such trips since the death of his wife, Mrs. Thornton did not think much of it. It had been decided that theywould wait until Mr. Williams returned, at which time he would be giventhe opportunity to buy the entire mine at a fair price. But if he did notcare to buy, the property was to be turned over to Tad for disposal ordevelopment, as he saw fit. 

The cold weather had continued, and there had been no visitors at the innfor nearly a week. Tad and Ben were making some crude tests before thefire with the pieces of gold quartz Ben had brought from the tunnel. Theywere just in the middle of their crude assay when suddenly there was aloud knock on the outside door, accompanied by a series of low growlsfrom Ben's dog. The door was unceremoniously thrown open and a very muchexcited man stepped in. He made no apologies, but went directly to thepoint. He spoke between great breaths, and had evidently come from somedistance at a good speed. He was completely exhausted, and as he spokehis eyes wandered aimlessly about the room. 

"We've a devil of a mess, " he panted. "I don't know how many hurt, butsome of 'em are broken all to pieces. Come right away and bring whatbandages you have. O, it's a devil of a mess. "

Old Ben looked at the stranger bewilderedly. Tad jumped to his feet, alert in a second. "Devil of a mess where, man? What's wrong? Who'shurt?" The stranger's voice failed him, and all he could do was to pointhis finger in the direction of the canyon and make signs for them tohurry. Ben pushed him into a chair by the fire, and in a little whilethey had his story:

The new tunnel on the old Iron Dyke had caved in without a moment'snotice. There were seven men locked in by a wall of fallen rock. Whetherthey had been crushed or not was hard to tell. The stranger had not beenin the tunnel at the time of the accident, but had gone to the stream forwater. Upon returning, he discovered the cave-in. He had come at oncefor help, realizing that a single man would be useless at the mine. 

In a short time the three had the old horse packed and were on the trail. The snow was deep and progress slow. As they walked up the trail thestranger described the appearance of the fallen rock as best he could. Hetold them that they had been working the tunnel as fast as possible andthat they had not been as careful as they should have been about proppingthe ceiling. He said they had struck considerable water, and that theblack rock seemed to have been previously loosened by some great force, for it was cracked in every direction. They had been spending the dayputting in temporary props, and the boss had been there superintendingthe job. He had been urging the men on harder every day, as he seemed soanxious to get the tunnel in to a certain point with the least possibledelay. The boss had in mind something very definite, however, for heoften referred to a certain sketch which he always carried in his pocketbook. The miner declared he had seen the boss make calculations manytimes, after he had measured the depth of the tunnel. 

"Yes, the boss was in the mine, too--had been there all day. It might bethat he is dead this moment, for all I know, " said the stranger. From hisdescription of the boss, Tad guessed that it was no other than Mr. Williams himself. 

When the mine was reached, operations were at once commenced to removethe fallen stones. Tad took command, and several times he thought heheard the sound of hammering from the other side--but, perhaps, after allit was only an echo. After a careful examination, it was decided that allthe loose rock had fallen, and that to remove it was not dangerous. Theybegan work at the top in order to make a hole big enough to reach themen. They had not worked long when they heard sounds from the other side. They were not all dead at least, and if they could but get to them beforethey suffocated all would be well. The imprisoned miners evidentlyunderstood the plan of action, for the sounds from the other sideindicated that they, too, were working at the top of the wall. By night asmall opening was made and messages exchanged. There were seven meninside--one dead, two very badly hurt, and the others bruised and cut, but able to help themselves. Water and hot food were passed to them, then the work of rescue was taken up in earnest. Mr. Williams had afractured leg and was unconscious, but was still living. Instead ofrushing to the solid wall end of the tunnel, where he would have beencomparatively safe, at the first sign of danger he had rushed toward theentrance with one other man, and had been struck down by the fallingstone. If he had started out thirty seconds sooner, he would have beencrushed to death, as his companion was. 

Late that night a large enough hole had been made to move the wounded menout. Tad was the first to enter, and the first man to be brought out wasWilliams. Tad picked him up in his great strong arms and tenderly carriedhim to the cabin. By midnight the broken leg was dressed and the cuts andbruises bandaged. Tad proved as good a nurse as he was a miner. As heworked over Williams a great pity filled his heart, for Tad knew only toowell that he had been anything but a happy man. 

The tunnel had been driven very rapidly without proper trussing, and itseemed to Tad that the entire dyke must have been shaken by the blaststhat had caused Mr. Thornton's death years before. Without a second'snotice the shaly rock had given a little, then caved in. It seemed astrange turn of fate to Tad that the same blast that had taken away hispartner many years ago had now probably taken away his only enemy. Withthese thoughts came an intense hatred for the mine and a tender pity forthe man that had so wronged him. Tad had put his body to a tremendoustest, and every nerve and every muscle was fairly tingling, so he drew upa chair to the bedside and rested. In a little while Mr. Williams becameconscious, but on recognizing Tad at his bedside he slipped back againinto unconsciousness, muttering strange, broken apologies and begging formercy. Tad thanked God as he sat there that night that he had neverharmed a brother man willfully and that his life had always been, atleast to the best of his ability, on the square. 

Then he began to think rapidly. Perhaps Williams was near the end. Hefeared the bad cut on his head might prove fatal. What if he should dieand have no chance to talk, no chance to square himself with those thathe had wronged? Accordingly he made him as comfortable as he could, andafter telling Ben his plan, he hurriedly ate a little food, went outinto the night and down the trail. 

Willis was awakened early in the morning by a furious pounding on thedoor. He rose and hurried down. Tad fairly tumbled into the room. Heinformed Willis just what had happened, and told him to get ready to gowith him at once. A doctor was called, a cab ordered, and in a littlewhile the three were hastening back toward Bruin Inn. With all theirspeed, however, the morning was well-spent before they reached the littleshanty again. The doctor made a careful examination and declared Williamsin a very critical condition. The broken leg was reset, the cuts dressedand sewed up. Then began the preparations to remove him out of themountains to a hospital. It seemed very strange to Tad to be againbuilding a crude stretcher from aspen poles and blankets, but by nightthey had placed him in the hospital and he was sleeping. 

It was a long night of strange thoughts and fancies for Willis as he satby his uncle's bedside. He was too bewildered by all the strange eventsof the last fortnight to be able to think logically. His admiration forTad had grown until it knew no bounds, and his pity for his uncle hadincreased until all the hardness had disappeared from his heart and hewas sorry for him. He hoped with all his might that he would yet live. 

In the early morning Willis was awakened by his uncle's hand being placedon his. The injured man was looking up into his face. He closed his eyesagain and was silent a long while. When he opened them again he spokefalteringly:

"I'm very sorry, son, " he began. "I've been wrong, so wrong all along theway. I've never been square. I have fought the Fates every day of mylife, and now I'm whipped. " He smiled a little, weak smile. "What a foola man is, " he continued. "Willis, I'm going to slip off very soon, now, and I have so much I want to say to you. " He half arose. "Are we alone?"Willis told him that they were, but urged him not to talk. He wasdetermined. 

"I have played a desperate game, and I have lost. I'm sorry for mymistakes. I have wronged Tad and you the most, for I have wanted yourfather's mine. I was jealous of your father's favor. Now I know I did notdeserve it. I got your mother's reply to Tad's letter long ago. It wassent in my care, and I read it. It decided me, for it all looked so easy. There's money in the mine, son, and Tad is here somewhere. He will tellyou all. Tell him for me that I am sorry. " He closed his eyes, and in amoment was gone. 

Willis hurried home to his mother, and together they held a longconference, and many things were accounted for. 

 * * * * *

It was at the little cabin that Willis found his greatest pleasure, andalready Ham and himself were planning a new and more pretentious Lodge totake the place of Buffalo Roost, for the next Buffalo Roost was to be amemorial camp built in honor of Tad Kieser, gentleman, and Mr. WilliamThornton. 

Willis had found the cabin, and the cabin with its stanch, goodfriendships, the healthful work together, and the unselfish leadership ofthe right sort of men, had helped him find his best self in thoughtfulservice for others. Surely no better thing ever comes to the life of aboy.