'WfrUs* 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 
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See page 87 
 
 CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING. 
 
TREASURE 
 M O UNTAI N 
 
 OR 
 
 THE YOUNG PROSPECTORS 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWIN L. SABIN 
 
 
 
 AUTHOR OF "BAR B BOYS," "RANGE AND TRAIL/ 1 
 "CIRCLE K," "OLD FOUR-TOES," ETC. 
 
 I'm the faithful animile of a most peculiar shtyle ; 
 
 I'm supposed to be a sort o' goat an' bird ; 
 Where there's niver trail nor track do I tote the hiwy pack, 
 An' I sing the swatest carols iver heard : 
 Hee-haw! 
 
 Flapjack Jim's Burro. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Fourth Thousand 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. 
 
CHAPTER FLOAT AND COLOR 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. SIGNAL SMOKES 1 
 
 II. A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 14 
 
 III. THE MAN IN THE CANON 32 
 
 IV. FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY .... 45 
 V. GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 59 
 
 VI. ALL THAT GLITTERS is NOT GOLD ... 73 
 
 VII. CHARLEY Pow- wow's WARNING .... 86 
 
 VIII. THE BIG KING APPEARS 96 
 
 IX. THE WONDER FOREST 105 
 
 X. THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK . . . .116 
 
 XL ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 132 
 
 XII. THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 144 
 
 XIII. THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE .... 157 
 
 XIV. BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS . . . .169 
 XV. IN THE MOUSETRAP 178 
 
 XVI. BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 191 
 
 XVII. GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 201 
 
 iii 
 
 M611SO 
 
iv CHAPTER FLOAT AND COLOR 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVIII. ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 213 
 
 XIX. AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 226 
 
 XX. THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN . . . . . .237 
 
 XXI. UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 249 
 
 XXII. THE RED SMOKE . 261 
 
 XXIII. THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 271 
 
 XXIV. BACK WITH THE SPOILS - ;. '. 284 
 
PROSPECTORS 
 
 Veterans to the Reader: 
 
 T>,TT- A/TA^ XT ) Cow- Punchers, Sheep-Herders, 
 CHET SIMMS } White Injuns,' now on Treasure 
 
 GRIZZLY DAN The Old Trapper on his Last Long 
 
 Trail 
 THE BLACK MAN Poaching on Fresh Preserves 
 
 MoLLY Y [ Who Continue to Bob Up Serenely 
 
 THE PROFESSOR Much at Home among the Rocks 
 
 CHARLEY Pow-wow THE UTE Who Darkly Prophe- 
 sies but Proves a Friend in Need 
 
 TONY ) The Two Ute Boys, Become Mighty 
 
 FRANCISCO J Hunters 
 
 MR. SIMMS Plainsman and Bar B Rancher, on 
 Lucky Vacation 
 
 OLD JESS Of the Texas Trail and the Bar B, also 
 on a Vacation 
 
 BONITA Smartest Dog in the World 
 
 WOOF ^| 
 
 RAGS I Her Half- Wolf Pups, Who Stay on the 
 
 NIG f Mountain 
 
 LlMPYj 
 
 MEDICINE EYE ) 
 
 PEPPER [ Of the Bar B Horse-Herd 
 
 COTTONTAIL ) 
 
 THE SPOTTED PONY Grizzly Dan's Faithful Saddle- 
 horse 
 
 BETTY Grizzly Dan's Faithful Pack-Mule 
 SALLY Grizzly Dan's Faithful Flintlock Rifle 
 The Black Wolves 
 
 Tenderfeet to the Reader: 
 
 FLAPJACK JIM Over Fifty Years on the Prospect 
 
 Trail 
 
 BROWNIE His Burro 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE SCAR ) Fellow-Conspirators 
 THE CROSS-EYED MAN i" with the Black Man 
 
 Dick, Bob, "Fat," "Jinks," and other School of Mine 
 
 Students 
 THE BIG ELK Lone King of Red Chief Mountain 
 
 BOOK PROSPECT COUNTRY 
 Red Chief Peak in Lost Park, Rocky Mountains 
 
TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 CHAPTER I r ; 
 
 SIGNAL SMOKES 
 
 IN a shallow, sagy basin amidst a wild, still moun- 
 tain country, two boys, their saddle-horses and a pack- 
 horse grazing near, busily fed sod stuff to a compact 
 little fire. Between times they peered at the encir- 
 cling sky-line. 
 
 The fire was not a good fire, one might think, for it 
 smoldered and smoked, sending into the clear air a 
 tall smudge like a plume. 
 
 Around about the shallow basin rose thickly tim- 
 bered slopes, stretching far, dark green with millions 
 of pines and spruces and cedars; above the slopes 
 reached onward bare crests and ridges, veiled in pur- 
 plish haze; and over all, vaster than all, higher than 
 all, here in the depths of the Rockies as in the popu- 
 lous cities, was the wide, eternal sky. 
 
 Several of the mountain-tops were peculiar. Tow- 
 ering behind the halting-spot of the two boys and 
 their animals was a tremendous bare peak of glowing 
 crimson, beautiful and majestic in the bright sunshine 
 of noon a cross of white, barely visible to the keen- 
 est eyes, upon its very apex. This mountain was 
 Red Chief. On ahead rose a longer crest, with the 
 
 1 
 
2 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 outline of a gigantic Indian extended upon his back 
 under a blanket. This was Warrior Peak. And else- 
 where, engirting, were Buffalo Lodge Peak and Cocks- 
 ..comb Peak, and others in a wondrous company of 
 jnx>harchs/ : ;/ { I 
 
 '. : : .^5".tjus.. wa . s the romantic Lost Park region of the 
 ***' frigh'Wes'teirn :R6ckies. Few travelers entered it, and 
 peak spoke mainly with peak. 
 
 A chipmunk who excitedly sat bolt upright on a 
 flat rock and flicked his tail while he watched the 
 operations of the two boys might have deemed, by the 
 way they were making smoke, that they were lost in 
 this Lost Park. But not they. They had been in 
 here before, this very summer, had Chet Simms and 
 Phil Macowan; they had explored the Park under 
 "guidance of Grizzly Dan, the old trapper; besides, be- 
 ing veterans of the Bar B cow outfit and the Circle 
 K sheep outfit, they were not to be easily lost (at 
 least, so they believed) anywhere in the Western 
 open. 
 
 Phil, the taller of the two, standing in overalls and 
 blue flannel shirt, wiped his brow with a red bandanna 
 handkerchief and replaced his drab broad-brimmed 
 hat. 
 
 "Funny where old Dan is," he complained. 
 "We've been making plenty smokes ever since we 
 struck the Park, and he doesn't answer." 
 
 "Naw," replied disgustedly Chet, the stockier lad, 
 blue-eyed, round-faced, tow-haired, freckled through 
 his tan. "We've left a trail of smoke clear back to 
 the Magic Lakes. If we keep on, pretty soon we'll 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES 3 
 
 be at the cabin under Warrior. Don't savvy this. 
 
 me." 
 
 "Wagh!" grunted Phil, with the white Injun ex- 
 clamation learned from Grizzly Dan. "This child 
 doesn't savvy, either. Thought he'd meet us at the 
 Lakes ; thought he'd answer, anyhow. He said he'd be 
 looking. We're only a week late." 
 
 "Well, I'm going to quit feeding fires," proclaimed 
 Chet, rising from his squatty posture. "Come on; 
 let's get out. Here, you Medicine Eye, where are you 
 going? And with quick step he caught the dragging 
 bridle-reins of a bay saddle-horse. "Come on," he re- 
 peated; "we'll ride straight through to the cabin and 
 see what's the matter," 
 
 Phil promptly stepped for the reins of the little 
 iron-gray or "blue" horse named Pepper ; and Cotton- 
 tail, the white-tailed roan from whose top-pack pro- 
 jected the handles of three miner's picks, lifted in- 
 quiring head. Then he fell greedily to cropping last 
 mouth fuls of forage. 
 
 Vaulting into saddle, with feet settled in stirrups 
 each boy took one more look in the direction of War- 
 rior Peak, where they hoped that an answer smoke 
 might be upfloating. When, five weeks before, they 
 had left there old Dan, at the white Injun cabin under 
 Warrior, in order to go outside and get supplies need- 
 ed for mine-hunting on Red Chief, they had engaged 
 to make a smoke when they reentered the Park and 
 he had engaged to be watching for it. 
 
 Now, returned and bearing upon Cotton-tail the 
 fresh supplies, they had faithfully made their smokes, 
 
4 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 but from Grizzly Dan had come no response. This 
 was queer. Perhaps something had happened to the 
 old trapper. He was past eighty, he had been newly 
 wounded in a duel with Vie jo Cheyenne, the aged chief 
 who had shown the Utes, his long-time captors, how 
 a Cheyenne could fight and die ; and during the boys' 
 absence he might have been stricken ill. As with Chet 
 he scanned the mystic outline of Warrior Peak, Phil 
 felt a pang of anxious fear. 
 
 But he was vivified by Chet's sudden cry : 
 
 "There's a smoke! Isn't that smoke, on Red 
 Chief?" 
 
 From the saddle Chet's backward glance had 
 sighted it, a slender smoke column welling above the 
 brush cloaking the hither flank of Red Chief Moun- 
 tain. Yes, it was smoke, but behind and not before. 
 
 "See it?" asked Chet, excited. 
 
 "I shore do," affirmed Phil, broadly, and not to be 
 outdone. 
 
 The slender column broke into distinct puffs; and 
 instantly asserting: "That's old Dan, all right. Come 
 on. Head for the smoke. He wants us," Chet 
 whirled Medicine Eye, and went jingling at a trot, 
 standing and leaning forward, cow-puncher style, in 
 the stirrups. 
 
 His hat-brim flared back; his rifle, in scabbard 
 under left leg, jolted; saddle creaked; sage cracked. 
 
 After him pushed Phil, hat-brim also flaring; little 
 carbine, in scabbard likewise, jolting; saddle creaking; 
 sage cracking. 
 
 Cotton-tail, apparently forgotten in this hasty de- 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES 5 
 
 parture, with wonder raised his scarred nose, and 
 pricking his ears, stared. Then, with final snatch at 
 herbage, arid with an annoyed nicker, he broke into 
 a clumsy trot, refusing to be left. His panniers 
 rattled, his top pack swayed, but all held tight, for 
 the boys' diamond hitch had been thrown true. 
 
 "Shucks, now!" called back Chet, abruptly slack- 
 ening. "We ought to have made a smoke in 
 answer." 
 
 "That's so. Can't stop for it, though, can we?" 
 replied Phil. "He'll know, I reckon. Must have seen 
 our other smoke. He'll be watching for us. Ex- 
 pect he's watching us now. He can see about ten 
 miles!" 
 
 "What's he doing there on Red Chief, off the 
 trail?" 
 
 "Up to something, all right." 
 
 "He shore is." 
 
 "Maybe he's found the mine, already!" 
 
 "Naw, don't believe so. He wouldn't look for it 
 without us. It's 'way on top." 
 
 "No, don't believe he would." 
 
 They had crossed the sagy basin and were among 
 timber and brush; the pines and spruces grew closely, 
 and at every opening the sumac and thimble-berry and 
 squaw-berry and other bushes had crowded forward 
 to enjoy life. 
 
 Chet led, Phil on Pepper followed hard, and at the 
 rear trailed the wise Cotton-tail, determined not to be 
 deserted. 
 
 As straight as possible in the direction where the 
 
6 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 smoke had been sighted rode Chet the guide; and 
 when after twenty or thirty minutes they emerged 
 into another clearing or park, they looked eagerly. 
 But the smoke had ceased. 
 
 "Aw, jiminy!" objected Chet, momentarily halting. 
 "What'd he quit for? How are we going to find 
 anybody in all this brush and timber?" 
 
 "Just keep on riding, I reckon," proposed Phil. 
 
 "I reckon," grunted Chet, shortly. 
 
 So they continued. 
 
 The signal smoke had appeared to rise from the 
 slope of Red Chief himself. The sagy basin had been 
 below. Now seeking the smoke the boys plunged 
 along, climbing, but alternately ascending and de- 
 scending as they wound among swells and hollows. 
 
 "Here," after a time spoke Chet, "what's the use 
 in chasing a man over a whole mountain? Let's make 
 another smoke, first chance we get, and see what hap- 
 pens." 
 
 The idea struck Phil, who was hot and scratched and 
 disappointed, as sound. At the next open spot or 
 little park they tumbled off. Pepper and Medicine 
 Eye stood with heaving sides while their masters 
 gathered grass and the dried pine needles. Cotton- 
 tail immediately resumed his grazing, for an experi- 
 enced campaigner was Cotton-tail, who never missed 
 a chance. 
 
 The heap of fuel was ready, and Chet had match 
 in hand, about to apply it, when a rustle in the brush 
 at the edge of the timber caught his quick ear, and 
 the ear of Phil as well. He stayed his hand. He 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES 7 
 
 and Phil looked. Chet sprang for his rifle, hanging 
 in scabbard upon Medicine Eye. 
 
 "Wolf!" he muttered, in terse warning. "Black 
 wolf. Saw him." 
 
 He jerked rifle from saddle holster. Phil ran for 
 his carbine his trusty little carbine with the stock 
 gashed by a bullet in the days of the Bar B round-up. 
 
 Chet might very well have seen a black wolf; he 
 was not often mistaken, was good old Chet^-and 
 then, there was a black wolf pack that ranged through 
 Lost Park. 
 
 Some animal was in that fringing timber and 
 brush. Cotton-tail had quit his grazing and was 
 staring with ears erect, while his jaws worked me- 
 chanically upon the remnants of his last grab. Pepper 
 and Medicine Eye also were much interested. 
 
 "Look out, now !" bade Chet. "If you see him give 
 it to him," as forgetting the unlighted fire they stole 
 forward, treading steadily and eying closely, weapons 
 at a ready. 
 
 From the edge of the clearing they peered beyond 
 it, for a glimpse of a dusky form slinking among the 
 serried trunks and the clumps of shrubs. Chet's gun 
 leaped to his shoulder; with scowl and mutter of im- 
 patience he hastily shifted position, as for better aim. 
 
 "There it goes!" he cried. "See it? Running? 
 Now it's stopped; it's looking! Now it's coming this 
 way. Look out! Must be mad! Shoot!" His 
 rifle hammer clicked on empty chamber, and furiously 
 he worked the lever to throw in a shell. "Aw, shucks !" 
 
 "Wait!" Phil's voice rang clear and sharp. "Don't 
 
8 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 shoot! Don't, Chet! 'It's Bonita! Bonita! Here, 
 Bonita! Why, Bonita! Why, old girl!" 
 
 At sound of his lively hail the black, furry shape 
 which, head high, had been reconnoitering them un- 
 certainly amidst the timber growth, suddenly was 
 transformed into a bounding ball of energy, rushing 
 at them recklessly. Another moment, and it had ar- 
 rived a black-coated sheep-dog, bursting with joy. 
 She leaped, she rolled, she whined, she waggled, she 
 grinned, with voice and tail and wrinkled lips and 
 dancing eyes and lavish tongue, aye, with every atom 
 of her whole being she tried to talk. 
 
 Phil roundly hugged her; and Chet was not a bit 
 backward in pats and words. 
 
 "Say, but I'm glad that gun missed fire," he 
 gasped. 
 
 "Whew!" agreed Phil. "Bonita! Why, Bonita! 
 We thought you were a wolf. We didn't mean to 
 shoot at you. Poor doggie! Poor girlie!" 
 
 For this was Bonita, fine sheep-dog given by Luis 
 the Calif ornian herder to Phil, when they all herded 
 the Circle K sheep, a year before. 
 
 "Old Dan must be around somewhere," hazarded 
 Phil. 
 
 "Where's your family, Bonita?" queried Chet. 
 
 Bonita whined; and as if in answer to her, or to 
 Chet, out from the brush raced a roly-poly, woolly 
 black object about the size of a woodchuck or ground- 
 hog. After it raced another. 
 
 "Here they come," laughed Phil. "Haven't they 
 grown, though!" 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES 9 
 
 Evidently they had been left behind, in their 
 mother's reconnoitering and her wild run to greet 
 her master; now, keen on the trail, they at last had 
 overtaken her. Two others followed, and the family 
 was complete. 
 
 As the pups tumbled about their feet, the boys bent 
 and examined them. 
 
 "Half wolf, all right, sure," pronounced Chet. 
 
 "Don't look much different from ordinary pups, 
 though," remarked Phil. 
 
 But half wolf they were, their father some member 
 of that black pack which inhabited Lost Park, and 
 which had roamed about the white Injun cabin until 
 Grizzly Dan had warned them away. At present the 
 pups did look as might any baby sheep dog, their 
 blackness being their chief characteristic. But then, 
 Bonita was black, except for her white chest, and the 
 father had been all black. 
 
 They were a very interesting family of youngsters, 
 and Bonita appeared to be proud of them. 
 
 "Where's Dan, Bonita?" asked Phil. 
 
 "He's around somewhere, I bet you," proclaimed 
 Chet. 
 
 "Wagh !" uttered a voice behind them, as they were 
 sweeping the timber with searching gaze; and they 
 turned with a jump. 
 
 A tall old man, in worn buckskin shirt and leggins 
 and moccasins, and wide-brimmed black hat, stood 
 leaning upon a long-barreled, muzzle-loading rifle, 
 and laughing silently. At his waist hung powder- 
 horn and bullet-pouch the latter of beaded hide. 
 
io TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 With his full white beard and his shaggy white hair, 
 his old-time garb and his easy attitude, he made a 
 picturesque figure. 
 
 Bonita and the pups rushed at him, in tumultuous 
 welcome, as if they had not seen him for a year. So 
 hearty are dogs. 
 
 "Hurray! There he is!" cheered Phil. And 
 
 "Hello. Buefio (good)," greeted Chet, as, con- 
 cealing their chagrin at thus being surprised, they 
 strode gladly to him. 
 
 Grizzly Dan chuckled in his shaggy white 
 whiskers, and raised one lean brown hand, with palm 
 outward the peace sign. 
 
 "How?" he quoth, shaking hands with the boys. 
 
 "We were looking for you," informed Phil. "Bo- 
 nita said you were around." 
 
 "Wagh ! I see you lookin' ; an' if I'd been a hostile 
 I could have lifted ha'r from both o' ye, 'fore you 
 found me," he reproved. "An' I tell 'ee, thar's hos- 
 tiles near, too. So better be keerful." 
 
 "Are there? Where?" demanded Chet, excited, 
 
 "Don't 'ee hurry, don't 'ee hurry," crooned old 
 Dan. "Too much talk all at once. Guess you forgot 
 yore white Injun ways whilst you were back to the 
 settlements. Wagh! Let's make a leetle medicine, 
 fust, an' behave proper." 
 
 So saying, he methodically seated himself, cross- 
 legged, the long rifle (which was a flintlock) athwart 
 his knees, and producing a stubby ancient black pipe, 
 filled it from a small decorated sack. He lighted it 
 with flint and steel. He solemnly puffed, offering the 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES n 
 
 pipe, stem first, to sky and earth and to the four 
 points of the compass. Knowing better than to in- 
 terrupt the old fellow in his trapper custom, the boys 
 sat quietly, waiting. 
 
 Grizzly Dan finished his performance, and tucked 
 the pipe away inside his buckskin shirt. 
 
 "Thar," he grunted, satisfied. "Sech is only proper 
 when friends meet agin on the trail." 
 
 "We saw your signal smoke. You made those 
 puffs, didn't you?" queried Phil. "Did you see 
 ours?" 
 
 Grizzly Dan nodded. 
 
 "Sartin. Been seein' yore smokes for a day or 
 two." 
 
 "Why didn't you answer? We didn't see any an- 
 swer," accused Chet, flatly. Chet was a straightfor- 
 ward boy who sometimes even was a little pugnacious. 
 He never minced words, did Chet, but arrived right 
 at the point and was done. 
 
 "Why didn't I answer, boy?" repeated old Dan. 
 "Thar air hostiles about, I tell 'ee. I war busy. 
 Didn't you read my sign, in those puffs?" 
 
 "Not exactly. We thought it was you, and you 
 were signaling for us, so we made for you," con- 
 fessed Phil, frankly. 
 
 "Didn't know what else to do," grumbled Chet. 
 
 "You ought to 1'arn sign, boy," reproved old Dan, 
 querulously. "Those war smoke sign, those two puffs 
 I kep' sendin' up. They said, plain as ha'r on my 
 face, 'Enemy discovered/ an' it war to make you 
 cautious. 'Stead o' bein' cautious, hyar you war 
 
12 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 rampin' through the brush, an' startin' another 
 smoke, 'fore I signaled agin; an' you war halted in 
 the open, whar you might 'a been massacreed if I 
 hadn't come along. Though o' course," and he 
 chuckled his famous chuckle, "thar reely ain't no one 
 to massacree ye." 
 
 "But who are the hostiles? And what are you do- 
 ing up on Red Chief?" asked Phil. 
 
 "Shore," supported Chet. 
 
 "Don't 'ee see I'm afoot?" directed old Dan. "Did 
 'ee think I'd be afoot if hostiles hadn't raided my 
 hos herd an' run it all off, during the night, last week, 
 makin' me pack moccasins on their trail? Wagh! 
 But I've located 'em, an' you've come jest in time to 
 help me lift ha'r if ha'r's to be lifted, which it ain't 
 but ought to be." 
 
 "What? Somebody run off Betty and the spotted 
 pony?" exclaimed Phil. 
 
 "Who?" demanded Chet, more direct. 
 
 Grizzly Dan nodded slowly. 
 
 "Yep, boy; mule an' hoss, both stole to onct whilst 
 I warn't suspectin' ary hostile war about. Who, you 
 ask? They left boot tracks in my medder, they did, 
 an' at their next camp; so I call 'em whites. One of 
 'em's that black man pelt thief who went over to the 
 Injuns when we had our leetle fracas, short time ago; 
 an' he's got two pardners with him." 
 
 "Say!" ejaculated Chet. "That traitor? Where 
 is he? Let's go and get your horse and mule." 
 
 "Sartin," drawled old Dan. "Soon as convenient. 
 Their camp's yonder. So's mine, with pot on fire. 
 
SIGNAL SMOKES 13 
 
 'Spect you boys must be wolfish. As for this coon, he 
 air plumb empty, he air. He air starvin'! So come 
 'long an' we'll sample pot. Fust fill meat bags, then 
 act, air my motto." 
 
CHAPTER n 
 
 A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 
 
 GRIZZLY DAN arose, and shouldering his long rifle 
 stalked away. Hastily mounting, the boys followed, 
 catching up with him just as he disappeared at the 
 farther edge of the little park. Cotton-tail, as usual 
 the last, with protesting whinny snatched another 
 mouthful of weeds and champing on it trotted after. 
 
 The tall buckskin figure of Grizzly Dan made way 
 swiftly, choosing always the easier course but appar- 
 ently never losing the one direction. The timber and 
 brush enclosed ; and after about an hour's march, dur- 
 ing which not a word was spoken, they broke out 
 into a great area of high reddish rock-masses up- 
 cropping everywhere, many of them set on edge, so 
 to speak, with long dried grasses and fruiting bushes 
 growing thickly in the multitude of lanes. 
 
 This was a place pleasant with sun and smells, but 
 very confusing. However, old Dan strode unhesita- 
 ting, the short cavalcade winding after ; and presently 
 rounding a rock-mass shoulder which would block the 
 way, abruptly entering an open space they were at 
 Grizzly Dan's camp. 
 
 The dried grass was soft underfoot; a wall of rock 
 closed before; and the red, edge-up rock-masses 
 formed a broken semicircle round about. Against 
 
 14 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 15 
 
 the rock wall was welling a spring, trickling away 
 across the sod. In an angle of two rock-masses was 
 a buffalo-robe bed ; near its foot was smoldering a fire 
 with a black pot hung over it. The pot gently 
 steamed. It was a pot that Grizzly Dan always car- 
 ried about with him, as strictly as he carried Sally his 
 rifle; and when hung over a fire it usually contained 
 something good. Another excellent token that the 
 camp would not prove a "hungry" camp was several 
 hide lines, stretched from shrub to shrub or rock to 
 rock, and thickly hung with dark strips like strips of 
 dried leather. These were "jerked" or sun-dried veni- 
 son, evidently. 
 
 "Hyar," spoke Grizzly Dan, well content. "Hyar's 
 camp, an' fat meat, an' mouths to eat it. Wagh ! Off 
 saddle, off pack, turn out yore critters, an' set. I'm 
 powerful glad to see ye agin. Reckon pot air ready." 
 
 He peeped into it, as his first duty, and sniffed ap- 
 provingly. While the boys were unlashing Cotton- 
 tail and unsaddling Pepper and Medicine Eye, he re- 
 newed the fire, and squatted by it, waiting. Bonita 
 and the four pups also squatted, waiting, eying the 
 pot and panting expectantly. 
 
 "If you got any dishes in yore pack, better fetch 
 'em out," bade old Dan. "Didn't bring any, myself, 
 'cause I traveled light. Packin' Sally an' this buff'ler 
 robe an' the pot war plenty, I tell 'ee. But I've been 
 makin' a leetle meat, as you can see. Got more back 
 at the cabin. Those pesky hostiles interrupted me," 
 and he grumbled to himself. 
 
 With a plate apiece, from the pack, while old Dan 
 
16 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 used a convenient bit of bark which he had stored 
 away, they sampled the contents of the steaming pot. 
 
 "Ground-hog!" exclaimed they both at once, view- 
 ing the whitish, rather greasy stew. 
 
 Grizzly Dan chuckled. 
 
 "See you ain't forgot," he said, as with a whittled 
 wooden spoon he began to tuck away his portion. 
 "Tain't cow, an' 'tain't deer, an' 'tain't beaver-tail, 
 an' 'tain't painter ; it air plain ground-hawg, an' thar's 
 wuss meat runnin.' These hyar rocks air full o' 
 hawgs, all fat. They live on roots an' sech stuff, and 
 the only thing they need air cookin' right." 
 
 "When you got up a feast for us before, first time 
 we came to your camp, it was a dog feast prairie 
 dog," reminded Phil. 
 
 Dan nodded. 
 
 "So 'twar," he affirmed. "An 5 after that I give you 
 hawg, an' after that buff'ler, an' after that deer; but 
 we didn't try painter or snake or young hos." 
 
 "Reckon I'd prefer hog," quoth Chet, rising to help 
 himself a second time. 
 
 "You'll eat hos yet, on the lean trail," prophesied 
 old Dan, darkly. "An' this mine-hunt trail we're on, 
 to the top o' the mountain, looks mighty like a lean 
 trail, to me. Timber-line lies below, an' after that 
 thar's a pore country for white folks to live off of. 
 Fetched in all the tools, I see." 
 
 "Yes, sir. Picks and candles and the like," an- 
 swered Phil. 
 
 "And sugar and coffee and tea and a lot of other 
 chuck," supplemented Chet. 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 17 
 
 "Wagh !" approved old Dan. "An 5 you didn't come 
 any too soon. Those hostiles who stole my mule an* 
 hos air on the trail for that gold mine o' ourn, or 
 I'm a hos myself. They air. So we got to beat 'em, 
 if we can." 
 
 "They haven't the map, have they?" queried Phil, 
 quickly. 
 
 "Not ourn," assured old Dan. "Not ourn, boy. For 
 hyar 'tis," and he extracted from the bosom of his 
 shirt a little flat packet. 
 
 The sight of it was a relief. This was the rude map 
 of the long-dead Trapper-Captain Frapp, uncovered 
 in the stock of the rusted rifle found by Phil on the 
 old trapper-Indian battle-field in this very Lost Park. 
 The map was not especially generous in its details, 
 maybe, but it was a precious relic and it was assurance 
 (according to Dan) that on the top of Red Chief 
 Mountain was indeed the Trapper Frapp mine. 
 
 "I've been studyin' this hyar map," said Grizzly 
 Dan, "an' I ain't any more sartin about it than I war 
 when we fust looked at it." He carefully unfolded 
 the packet. It was a small sheet of skin or hide 
 scraped thin, brittle and yellow with age, and about 
 six inches square. On it were tracings in black and 
 red. As old Dan spread it out over his buckskin 
 knee, the two boys bent eagerly to scan it again. 
 
 "Hyar air Red Chief the mountain with the red 
 feather in its head. Trapper trail runs 'round the 
 mountain from the two lakes on t'other side, an' hyar 
 air a hand p'intin' down at a leetle cross on top o' the 
 mountain, in second saddle. An' hyar's a pair o' 
 
i8 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 thumpin' big goat horns, with three curls in 'em, for 
 Another sign. That's a sign I don't read; rest air 
 plain." 
 
 Yes ; as old Dan had said, the map showed a moun- 
 tain-peak with a curlicue of red rising from it, like 
 a feather indicating, according to Dan, Red Chief. 
 It showed a trail, passing from two lakes around the 
 
 mountain base; and a hand pointing down at a cross 
 against the mountain-top, where a wavy curve must 
 mean a dip or saddle. And at one side of the map 
 was a skeleton head with great horns having three 
 curls each. 
 
 It was an interesting map, because it must date back 
 as far as beaver-hunt days in the early forties, when 
 Trapper Frapp fell before a Sioux or Cheyenne bul- 
 let; but was not a very complete map. 
 
 "Mine must be where that cross is marked," haz- 
 arded Chet. 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 19 
 
 "Wall, mebbe so an' agin, mebbe that cross air the 
 natteral cross o' white that we see from down below. 
 But fust, I'm goin' to get back my old hos an' mule. 
 After that, we'll scout for the mine. Ought to dance 
 medicine a bit, now, I reckon, to settle our meat bags ; 
 then we'll go after the critters." 
 
 Old Dan stood, balanced with body inclined for- 
 ward, knees slightly crooked; and away he went, in 
 a circle, with chant: 
 
 "Whoo-oop! Ow-ow-gh! Hay-ah-hay! 
 Hay-ee-hay hah ah-hay hah-ah-hay! 
 Whoo-oop! Ow-ow-gh! Hay-ah-hay! 
 Hee-ah hah-ah hi-yah-hah! 
 Whoo-oop!!" 
 
 Promptly the boys fell in behind, imitating his mo- 
 tions and chanting with him the outlandish words. It 
 was Dan's medicine-dance, made familiar through 
 many previous performances. 
 
 Around and around they three capered, while Bonita 
 looked on with ears pricked, and the four pups yapped 
 or ran affrighted. Suddenly old Dan, out of breath, 
 stopped. Phil and Chet stopped. 
 
 "Thar!" grunted Grizzly Dan. "Plenty medicine. 
 We're strong for the war trail. Let's be goin'. My 
 pinto an' mule'll be wonderin' why I don't come after 
 'em." 
 
 He picked up his long rifle. 
 
 "Take yore weepons, but leave other things as they 
 air," he bade. "This is a scout afoot." And busily 
 he strode away, weaving among the rock-masses. 
 
20 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Hastily grabbing carbine and rifle and cartridge belts, 
 Phil and Chet followed. 
 
 "Back, Bonita ! Stay back !" ordered Phil, in leaving. 
 
 Bonita, halted short, surprised and disappointed, 
 obediently remained as camp guard. One by one her 
 puppies, rummaging about as puppies do, returned to 
 her side. 
 
 Rifle upon shoulder Grizzly Dan moved rapidly, 
 walking with long, easy steps that covered an amazing 
 extent of ground. In single file followed the two 
 boys. 
 
 They left the area of rock-masses, and skirting be- 
 hind a peculiar low, straight line of red outcrop like 
 a ruinous garden wall, climbed the slant of a gentle 
 ridge. Cedars grew sparsely, but in the main the 
 mountain here was bare, broken only by the curious 
 rock formations. 
 
 At the crest of the ridge old Dan paused, and from 
 the shelter of the ruinous garden wall on his right 
 looked over. The ridge fell away in another gentle 
 slope, to make a little valley. 
 
 "That hostile camp war down in thar," said old 
 Dan, as the two boys, puffing, joined him. "I've been 
 watchin' 'em, an' I don't reckon they've quit yet. But 
 I don't see nary sign." 
 
 The sun was halfway down the west, or apparently 
 about a yard above the mighty peaks of Red Chief, 
 towering, naked of coppery body, high over these foot- 
 hills, his moccasins. The world was very still, bask- 
 ing in the afternoon. 
 
 Chet and Phil peered for camp sign, but saw none. 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 21 
 
 "Now, they ought to be in that valley, thar," com- 
 muned old Dan, as if the valley might have been a 
 vacant street, or a grocery store, instead of an area 
 of miles. "No, by whackety! Out they're trailin'l" 
 he asserted, aroused. "Quick now! Got to head 'em 
 off. Consarn 'em ! Mebbe I ought not to've waited. 
 But I thought 'em fixed." 
 
 And away he plunged, striding prodigiously, down 
 the slope. 
 
 What he had seen, neither boy knew, although, now 
 plunging after, between steps they swept with their 
 keenest glances the landscape below, shimmering in 
 green and red. Underfoot the gravel and sod slipped 
 before their heels. 
 
 The red rock wall bent over the crest of the ridge 
 and continued on down this other side. Sticking close 
 to it, Grizzly Dan used it as covert. It was, as said, 
 a peculiar outcrop, about three feet thick and four to 
 six feet high, and extending as straight as if run by a 
 surveyor. There were occasional breaks in it, and 
 at these, and at the lower places, a view was given 
 of the country beyond. 
 
 When about halfway down the ridge, Phil at last 
 saw what Grizzly Dan had seen. On the right, be- 
 yond the rock wall, wending on up the valley were 
 several dots, representing horses and men. There 
 seemed to be at least three riders, and a couple of pack- 
 animals. Evidently Chet, also, saw; for en route he 
 grunted, and pointed significantly. 
 
 The wall made the stalk an easy one. Still shel- 
 tered by it, at the bottom of the slope the three scouts 
 
22 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 might stop ; for the figures were coming on. Bending 
 again, the wall ran up the opposite slope, proceeding 
 indefinitely. 
 
 Through an irregular break in their rampart the 
 boys watched, with old Dan, and awaited his instruc- 
 tions. He was muttering indignantly, as from under 
 shaggy brows (his hat removed) he scowled at the 
 approaching horsemen. 
 
 "Thar's my pinto an' my old mule, an' they got 'em 
 both packed," he complained. "I tell 'ee, sech doin's 
 don't shine with this child. No, they don't. He's 
 lifted ha'r, in his day, for less, he has. He don't keer 
 about those fust two men ; but that last man, with my 
 two critters, he's got to quit, sudden, or he'll be wiped 
 out." 
 
 Thus old Dan muttered peevishly, surveying the 
 nearing cavalcade. Around his shoulders, as he 
 squatted, peeped the two boys. 
 
 On drew the riders. They were three, in a line, and 
 the last was leading two pack-animals. In the first 
 animal, well laden, Phil and Chet recognized Grizzly 
 Dan's much beloved old dun mule his pack bearer. 
 Behind it followed a spotted pony, with lesser pack. 
 This was Grizzly Dan's saddle horse, a "paint" or 
 pinto, so called because of its markings. Of Betty 
 his mule, and of his "paint," old Dan was very fond ; 
 they had long been his faithful comrades. Now to see 
 them in use by alien hands, and especially to see his 
 pinto packed, aroused him thoroughly. 
 
 However, he did nothing more than mutter and 
 scowl; and beside him the boys did nothing except 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 23 
 
 peer and wait, and hitch their rifles forward a little. 
 The riders were talking recklessly; they were unsus- 
 picious of spies or of peril. 
 
 The leading man was now so near that it could 
 be seen he was cross-eyed. He was a lean-faced, nar- 
 row-jawed man, with pointed chin and long nose, and 
 round blue eyes which turned very much in. He wore 
 an old straw hat, a collarless white shirt torn and 
 soiled, a vest unbuttoned, and overalls. He was smok- 
 ing a corn-cob pipe, and seemed unarmed. 
 
 The second man was older, with gray hair, and a 
 gray-bristled square bull-dog face disfigured by a 
 frightful scar. This scar cut from the left side of the 
 nose diagonally across to the lobe of the left ear; 
 it lay as a reddish-white welt, and gave the face a 
 grim appearance. The scarred man wore a straight- 
 brimmed sombrero, blue 'kerchief, blue flannel shirt, 
 khaki trousers, and laced boots. Under his left leg 
 was a rifle. 
 
 The third man was extremely dark. The boys knew 
 him at once. This was the Black Man, who, as com- 
 panion of the Red Man, had been caught this previous 
 summer killing game in the Park against the law. 
 The Red Man was no more; but the Black Man's end 
 had not yet come. Dense black whiskers covered much 
 of his face, and the black hair extended over his chest 
 where visible beneath his open shirt. To-day he was 
 wearing a black slouch hat, red 'kerchief, black shirt, 
 and dark trousers. At his right hip dangled a six- 
 shooter. 
 
 From his right hand a lead-rope ran back to the 
 
24 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 neck of Betty the dun mule; and from the pack of 
 Betty the mule another lead-rope ran back to the neck 
 of the spotted pony. Betty's pack was evidently the 
 camp pack, and showed also a shovel and a pair of 
 picks. The spotted pony's pack was a couple of ore- 
 sacks across his back, one on either side. 
 
 "Here's this bloomin' dike in the way," called back 
 the Cross-eyed Man. "Which direction you want to 
 take, so's to get through?" 
 
 "Doesn't matter," answered the Black Man, from 
 the rear. "Try both, an' keep your eyes out for 
 more of that red float. We want to follow that red 
 float. It means the real stuff." 
 
 "A few tons o' that red float an' we'd all be ridin' 
 auty-wobiles, 'stead of hosses," spoke the Man with 
 the Scar. "That's the richest float ever I see. Wish 
 all this red mountain was the same." 
 
 "There's a vein of it, somewhere above, sure," an- 
 swered the Black Man. "It's the mine we're looking 
 for, or I'm much mistaken. So keep your eyes peeled 
 for more of the red rock, lying about." 
 
 "Right, oh!" sang the Cross-eyed Man; and he 
 obliqued to the right, as if he might have given him- 
 self an order. 
 
 This took him away from the little party behind the 
 dike wall. The Man with the Scar turned to the left. 
 This took him past the little party behind the dike 
 wall. And now the Black Man also turned to the 
 right; riding, as did the other, with eyes upon the 
 ground, searching for "more of the red rock." 
 
 The Cross-eyed Man was about twenty yards away, 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 25 
 
 and getting farther ; the Man with the Scar was about 
 thirty yards away and obliquing nearer; the Black 
 Man was about forty yards away,- and he, also, was 
 getting farther. Something must be done at once, it 
 seemed to Phil, and he set his muscles and poised his 
 mind, ready to act at the first word from old Dan. 
 Out of the corner of his eye he noted Chet slightly 
 and cautiously shift a foot, as if preparing for quick 
 movement. 
 
 The Black Man had turned from the course, but 
 Betty the dun mule was slow in following, and the 
 spotted pony, behind her, did as she did. So when 
 the Black Man veered aside, Betty obstinately kept 
 her nose to the front. The lead-rope from her neck 
 to the Black Man's hand tautened, and twisted in the 
 saddle he impatiently hauled. 
 
 "Come along, you!" he ordered irritably, with an 
 oath. But Betty hung back, mulishly, and the spotted 
 pony stopped altogether, waiting for Betty to proceed. 
 
 The Black Man hauled harder, and swore irritably, 
 while Betty stoically stood, yielding not an inch. It 
 was a tug of war, for an instant; and that instant was 
 enough. Phil saw old Dan noiselessly kneel and thrust 
 forward his long rifle at the same time and his heart 
 sprang into his throat. With that earnest muzzle 
 trained upon him the Black Man was in the most 
 deadly peril. Such a shot would be murder! Surely 
 old Dan wouldn't 
 
 But quick as the thought Sally spoke "Crack!" 
 Well-nigh at the same moment old Dan whistled a 
 shrill, peculiar whistle; and while whistling and look- 
 
26 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 ing, still on his knees he reloaded like lightning. Phil 
 saw him, and stared at the same time at the Black 
 Man. Miraculous to say, the Black Man appeared un- 
 touched; but the taut lead-rope had snapped, cut by 
 old Dan's unerring bullet, and Betty the mule and the 
 spotted pony, both with heads high, ears pricked, were 
 gazing for the source of the familiar whistle. 
 
 "Good shooting !" gasped Chet. 
 
 The Black Man sat, momentarily stricken stone- 
 still by astonishment; and he, and the gazing Betty 
 and her comrade, made an interesting tableau. 
 
 However, old Dan was not bent on posing a tableau. 
 He had other fish to fry. "Cover those fellows, 
 quick," he bade sharply, rising with his long rifle again 
 leveled upon the Black Man and this time the muzzle 
 drew a short straight line directly between the two. 
 And he called loudly, "Keep yore hand off yore wee- 
 pon an' let those thar critters come!" 
 
 He whistled, as before. 
 
 Keen and prompt, Chet too had leaped to his feet, 
 his rifle upon the Cross-eyed Man, turned inquiringly 
 in the saddle. 
 
 "You hear, yuh!" snarled Chet. "You man in the 
 straw hat. Don't yuh move till we say so." 
 
 Phil felt himself also standing hastily, and heard his 
 own voice, as in a dream, saying, as he held the bead 
 of his little carbine upon the Scarred Man's chest a 
 chest near and plain, "Don't you move, either." 
 
 Beyond the rock wall, breast-high, the three 
 mounted men sat stunned and carefully motionless. 
 With bray and imitative whinny Sally and the spotted 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 27 
 
 pony, eyes and ears directed upon old Dan, came trot- 
 ting. 
 
 "Well," spoke the Black Man, gaining nerve, 
 "what's this all about? A hold-up!" 
 
 "Hold-up o' hos-thieves !" retorted old Dan. "Now 
 you move, direction you're headin', an' you keep on 
 movin'. I've got what I want, but I've lifted ha'r for 
 less, in my day, ! I tell 'ee." 
 
 "Hike!" bade Chet to his man. 
 
 "Turn around, you in the laced boots," directed 
 Phil to his man. "Join your gang." 
 
 The Man with the Scar obediently backed his horse 
 about and at a trot rode down along the wall. The 
 Cross-eyed Man laughed. 
 
 "Two kids and a Buffalo Bill scout!" he bantered. 
 "Must be a Wild West show, Jim." 
 
 But the rifle muzzles of the "two kids" and the 
 "Buffalo Bill scout" never wavered, and evidently 
 looked as large, no matter who might be behind 
 them. 
 
 "What I want to know is, do we lose our packs as 
 well as our animals?" responded the Man with the 
 Scar, as he rode and halted. 
 
 "Yes, how about those packs, old man?" demanded 
 the Black Man. 
 
 "Wait!" called old Dan. "Drop yore weepons, 
 every one o' ye, jest whar you air. Then leave 'em 
 lay, an* ride to the top o' yon hill. Needn't hurry. 
 We'll 'tend to yore packs, an' when we give you signal 
 you can come down an' get what's left. But drop 
 yore weepons, an' do it powerful sudden." 
 
28 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Guess we'll have to," growled the Black Man to his 
 partners. He loosed his revolver belt and tossed it to 
 the ground; the Man with the Scar extracted from 
 his saddle holster his rifle and dropped it also. 
 
 "Nothing on me, friends. I'm peaceful," informed 
 the Cross-eyed Man, grinning and throwing wide his 
 hands. 
 
 "All right. Get !" ordered old Dan. "When you're 
 on top the hill, stop. We'll fire a shot for you to come 
 down, at proper time." 
 
 Without another word the three, the Black Man, 
 the Cross-eyed Man, and the Man with the Scar, rode 
 to their right, paralleling the wall, and at a walk be- 
 gan to ascend the hill slope. 
 
 "You watch 'em," quoth old Dan, to the boys; and 
 striding through the crooked breach in the wall he 
 began nimbly to unlash Betty the mule's pack. 
 
 With homely gray nose Betty attempted to nuzzle 
 him, in glad affection. The spotted pony nickered and 
 pressed forward jealously, to take part in the reunion. 
 
 "Not now, old gal," said Grizzly Dan, as he worked. 
 "Time for lovemakin' later. Hostiles are about an' we 
 got to cache ourselves. Paint, reckon I'll let you keep 
 yore leetle pack a bit yet," and with strong heave he 
 contemptuously shoved Betty's pack from her. As it 
 tumbled Betty snorted and shook herself, as if glad 
 to be freed of the very touch. 
 
 "Let it lay. Nothin' in it we want, an' we airn't 
 out after plunder, anyhow," quoth old Dan, for the 
 boys. "Now, I'll drive these critters on, an* you close 
 the rear an' keep yore eyes on those thar hostiles. 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 29 
 
 When we get to top o' our hill they can come down 
 from top o' theirn." 
 
 So saying, old Dan gathered the lead-rope of the 
 spotted pony, loosened from Betty's late pack, sprily 
 vaulted astraddle of him, and with word to Betty, as 
 he passed, "Come along, old gal," and slap on her 
 flank, he rode away on the back trail. An odd figure 
 he made, too, his long legs, buckskin sheathed, bent 
 at the knees to grip the pair of sacks, his body inclined 
 forward, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, and his 
 right hand guiding by the rope bridle the spotted pony. 
 Ever and anon his moccasined heels hammered the 
 spotted pony's sides. Betty the dun mule docilely fol- 
 lowed, as of yore. 
 
 Old Dan did not glance back. He left his rear to 
 the boys. 
 
 "Give him a good start. We'll wait till those three 
 men get to the top of their hill, as we told 'em to," 
 proposed Chet to Phil, behind the wall. 
 
 Rather proud to be thus posted in a responsible 
 position posted by such a stickler for methods as 
 Grizzly Dan Phil silently nodded. Steadfast and 
 grim, rifle and carbine still at shoulder, over their rock 
 rampart they marked the progress of the three men. 
 
 Once, on their retiring way, the three had paused 
 and had looked behind, as if meditating a different 
 move. But the sight of the guns trained, without 
 variation, upon them, seemed to exert a wholesome 
 influence, and they continued. 
 
 Now they were well toward the crest of their hill. 
 Old Dan, traveling more rapidly, was well toward the 
 
30 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 top of his. Across the rock wall, in the mid-region 
 between the two hills, lay the tumbled pack from 
 Betty, and the rifle and revolver from the Scarred 
 Man and the Black Man who had borne them. 
 
 "Guess we can go," said Chet, shortly. "But don't 
 let 'em come down till Dan's ready." 
 
 Skirting their side of the wall, with sundry back- 
 ward glances at the enemy they followed to join Griz- 
 zly Dan. 
 
 The three men were distant a far rifle-shot. They 
 had halted, being almost to the top, and were wait- 
 ing. When the boys had joined old Dan, the two 
 parties were separated more than a rifle shot. 
 
 "Signal 'em. Fire in the air," ordered old Dan, as 
 Phil and Chet came up, puffing and satisfied. "Let 
 'em do what they please. It's gettin' late an' time 
 we war makin' for camp an' pot." 
 
 "Bang-bang!" rang out in a double report Chet's 
 trusty .30-30 rifle and Phil's equally trusty little .30-30 
 carbine with the scarred stock, across the space from 
 slope to slope signaling to the enemy that the coast 
 was clear for them to descend if they wished. 
 
 "Plenty," quoth Grizzly Dan, not disposed to linger 
 and spy further upon the actions of the three. "Won't 
 bother with 'em any more. Their pack'll keep 'em 
 busy an' evenin's nigh. We got jest our own back 
 agin an' these hyar sacks o' specimens that they won't 
 think wuth fightin' for, I reckon. Hop aboard the old 
 mule, now. Sun's about sot an' this coon's meat-bag 
 air plumb empty agin." 
 
 He paused for an instant while Chet, then Phil, 
 
A PRIZE FROM THE ENEMY 31 
 
 clambered aboard the dun mule. Betty, who had been 
 standing with eyes blissfully closed while she rested 
 her gray nose, with pensive pendant lip, across Dan's 
 knees, submitted to the invasion. Grizzly Dan clapped 
 his moccasins against his spotted pony; and with Chet 
 holding the rope cut by Dan's bullet, and Phil holding 
 to Chet, the dun mule followed the pony over the 
 crest and down. 
 
 She was a gaunt creature; and by the time that 
 they had wound into camp Phil knew intimately every 
 one of her back-bone bumps, save those occupied by 
 Chet. 
 
 Dusk was settling when at last, triumphant, they 
 emerged into camp amidst the rock-mass labyrinth. 
 Bonita and the pups were rejoiced at their coming; 
 Medicine Eye and Pepper and Cotton-tail whinnied, 
 as if they had been lonesome; the spotted pony whin- 
 nied back, and Betty vented a long bray. Thus were 
 old companions of the trail united again. 
 
 "Now," said Grizzly Dan, busily, as Betty and the 
 spotted pony strolled away to roll and to exchange 
 nose-touches with the rest of the herd, "fust we'll fill 
 meat-bags. You fetch some wood an' I'll tend pot. 
 After we eat, then we can look into these hyar sacks 
 o' rock an' see what the sign air." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MAN IN THE CANON 
 
 SUPPER consisted of the remnants of the stew the 
 pot having been stocked with a supply almost ex- 
 haustless, for old Dan was a generous provider and 
 a few strips of the jerked venison. The ore sacks at- 
 tracted mightily; after old Dan had smoked his black 
 pipe and the boys had washed their dishes, the sacks 
 were opened and dumped into the circle of the fire- 
 light. 
 
 Old Dan calmly surveyed. The boys bent over 
 eagerly. The little heap of rock fragments presented 
 no dazzling sight. They were of various colors, but 
 as a rule were dull. Old Dan picked out an irregular 
 chunk and turned it about, disclosing a face of vivid 
 green. 
 
 "Copper stain/' he grunted. "Doesn't mean much." 
 
 "Naw; one little trace of copper'll stain a whole 
 mountain. Copper stain's common," declared Chet, 
 wisely. 
 
 "There's a whole lot of red rock here," volunteered 
 Phil. 
 
 "Yes; I should say! No trouble to find red rocks 
 on this mountain," agreed Chet. 
 
 "Only trouble air to find the right kind," reminded 
 old Dan. "Now, hyar's some red, which I reckon air 
 
 32 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 33 
 
 copper or iron. Most likely copper, by feel of it. It's 
 consider 'bly heavy, too/' 
 
 "What's this?" queried Phil, handling another 
 piece. "This is heavy." 
 
 It was compact, and smoothish to the touch, and 
 black in color. 
 
 "Species of iron," decided old Dan. "That's mag- 
 net rock. Draws lightnin'." 
 
 "Like the rocks where the lame man was struck 
 and killed !" exclaimed Chet, referring back to a great 
 adventure on the Circle K sheep range. 
 
 "Plenty iron in this collection," mused old Dan. 
 "Red, brown, an' black an' all kinds. Mebbe 'tain't 
 all iron, though. Now, p'raps the red those hostiles 
 talked about air in this package. Somethin' special 
 air wropped up, that's sartin." 
 
 So speaking, he unfolded a small bunch of news- 
 paper twisted and mashed down about some lumpy 
 material. The contents proved to be red rock again 
 rock, in small pieces, rather crumbly, and of a red- 
 ness like freshly burned brick. In fact, had it not 
 been for their noticeable weight, and their pitted, 
 powdery surfaces, the pieces might have been brick. 
 
 The boys scrutinized; old Dan squinted, and 
 scratched his whiskers. 
 
 "That's funny stuff," vouchsafed Chet. "Wonder 
 what they thought it is." 
 
 "Red rock, all right enough," proffered Phil, try- 
 ing to be original in his remark, but not succeeding. 
 "Different from the rest, too." 
 
 "Must be different or they wouldn't a' had it 
 
34 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 wropped up so," mused old Dan. "I airn't a miner, I 
 air a trapper, mountain man, I air ; an' while I can tell 
 prime beaver from pore, I can't tell prime ore from 
 pore. But I believe this air more iron leastways, 
 I'd say so if 'twarn't laid apart as if they war savin' 
 it." 
 
 "How'll we find out, then?" demanded Chet. 
 "Doesn't look like gold, much, to me." 
 
 Nor did it to Phil, who was searching the pieces 
 for any glitter of yellow. To him, they were dull 
 and disappointing. 
 
 "Wall, lots o' stuff doesn't look like gold that is 
 gold, same as in life. Can't alluz tell by outside what 
 may be inside," answered Grizzly Dan. "But in my 
 opinion, which airn't wuth much, I do confess, this 
 passel o' red rock air the nubbin o' the pack. Else 
 why did they save it out, keerful an' why did they 
 talk of a partic'lar kind o' red rock? I sorter feel 
 in my bones that if we hang on to this rock an' look 
 for more o' the same species, we'll be doin' our best. 
 This species o' red rock air our sign, an' we got to 
 trail it to top o' mountain, I reckon." 
 
 "Aw, jiminy!" groaned Chet. "What's one kind of 
 red rock among all these other red rocks a whole 
 mountain of 'em!" 
 
 "Thar's no trail so hard it can't be worked out, boy, 
 if we stick to it," quoth old Dan. "An' I'd hate to 
 say we airn't as smart as those three hostiles. No, 
 sir. If you'll take my advice you'll leave the rest o' 
 the collection right hyar, an' pin yore faith to the sign 
 o' the red pieces we got in our hands. If we only 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 35 
 
 had that thar professor man along, who war alluz 
 pickin' up rocks last summer, he mought help us ; but 
 rocks war all he knew an' that ain't enough, in Injun 
 country." 
 
 "What's the scheme, then?" invited Chet, the prac- 
 tical. 
 
 "To-morrow mornin' 'arly I'll take hos an' mule 
 an' go back to cabin after my saddle an' meat I've 
 got cached away thar. You two boys an' yore pack- 
 animile will cut across country an' meet me at a spot 
 I'll tell ye of. Then we'll climb the mountain, s'archin' 
 for more o' the red rock sign, which air float. Float'll 
 lead us to that thar mine, like as not, on top. By the 
 leetle set-down we've given to those three hostiles we 
 ought to beat 'em, in case they're lookin' for same 
 thing we air; an' that's the Cap'n Frapp Mine. 
 Wagh!" 
 
 "Wagh ! Bueno," approved Chet. 
 
 "Wagh! Bueno," gravely concurred Phil. 
 
 "Now," continued old Dan, "we mought stuff some 
 o' this hyar red sign on our pussons, to have it handy, 
 an' pack the balance o' what we want. Meantime, 
 we'll go to bed. Got to start 'fore sun-up, an' thar's 
 a long trail ahead." 
 
 So to bed they went. The fire flickered and died, 
 Bonita and her pups, curled together upon the foot of 
 the boys' buffalo robe, shivered and snuggled, Chet 
 almost snored, and Phil dreamed of picking up so 
 much gold ore that he couldn't move until every pocket 
 burst, relieving him. 
 
 Dan, indeed, rose early. It was nothing unusual 
 
36 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 to have him stirring at any hour of the night, eating 
 and mumbling and "making medicine;" but when 
 Phil next opened his eyes, leaving his dream, it was 
 to the realization that the fire was crackling, coffee 
 was fragrantly simmering, old Dan was busily pad- 
 ding about, on moccasins, and the dawn was still in 
 the gray. 
 
 "Hos-guard out !" bade Grizzly Dan, as Phil stirred 
 and Chet protestingly grunted. "Round up the crit- 
 ters, watch out for hostiles, then come in an* eat. 
 Time we war takin' the trail, if we expect to get any- 
 whar 'fore night." 
 
 Disturbing the comfort of Bonita and family, 
 snugly wedged between them, Phil rolled out on the 
 one side, Chet on the other. They pulled on trousers 
 and shoes, took a hasty wash at the spring, and don- 
 ning coats and hats, rope in one hand and rifle in the 
 other they stumbled stiffly forth, in the grayness 
 among the rock-masses, to catch the animals. Bonita 
 like a black shadow silently followed; but the sleepy 
 pups cuddled the closer in the hollow that she left. 
 
 "Catch that mule and the rest of 'em will come 
 right along," declared Chet. 
 
 He was right. When once the dragging picket-rope 
 of Betty was in hand, her companions yielded readily ; 
 and with Chet leading Betty and the spotted pony, 
 Phil leading Pepper and Medicine Eye, and Cotton- 
 tail docilely trailing behind, the little herd was brought 
 in to the camp-fire, there to be tied short. 
 
 "No use packin' along all this hyar rock," declared 
 old Dan, as after breakfast they hastily prepared for 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 37 
 
 the march. "We airn't geologicalists, I reckon." And 
 grunting over the tremendous word which he had 
 evolved, he discarded the greater portion of the ore- 
 sacks' collection, retaining only what he evidently con- 
 sidered of especial value. 
 
 This was the brick-like red fragments. He and the 
 boys pocketed each a piece or two as a sample; and 
 the remainder, with the well-nigh empty ore-sacks, 
 was stowed upon Cotton-tail's pack. 
 
 The morning gray had lightened, but no pink had 
 yet appeared, when with old Dan guiding, out amidst 
 the rock-masses wended the little cavalcade, for new 
 camps. Riding with raw-hide hackamore and buffalo- 
 robe pad, his precious pot slung upon his back, old 
 Dan again bestrode his beloved spotted pony. Betty 
 the dun mule followed, traveling light. Then came 
 the boys and Cotton-tail, and Bonita and the pups. 
 
 From the rock-masses they climbed among low 
 boulders and bushes, until upon a high place old Dan 
 halted. The east was now glowing. Around about 
 and below stretched dimly the vast slopes and levels 
 of Lost Park; distant in the east, outlined against the 
 glow, slumbered mighty Warrior Peak; close at hand, 
 on the west, rose ruddy the huge naked trunk and 
 crown of Red Chief. They were about at his 
 knees. 
 
 Old Dan pointed. "You travel straight north, 
 along this hyar ridge, for two hours, until it forks. 
 You follow down alongside left-hand fork, by old trail 
 you'll find, till you come to a stream, an' you follow 
 up that stream till you come to a nice little park, with 
 
38 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 a blasted pine; thar's whar I'll jine ye when sun air 
 three quarters down in the west." 
 
 Chet and Phil listened closely. They knew better 
 than to ask questions; so when he had finished they 
 nodded, to show that they understood, and lifting his 
 hand in salute he rode away. For a moment they 
 watched him, as upon his spotted pony, Betty the mule 
 close in his wake, he descended the ridge, bound 
 straight for Warrior Peak and the cabin there. Then 
 they turned, to ride at right angles along the ridge 
 which skirted the towering trunk of Red Chief. 
 Bonita, having gazed perplexed after old Dan, turned 
 with them and came trotting on. 
 
 Swiftly the sun rose, surging above the gigantic 
 sleeping brave and with golden beams flooding the 
 wild world of Lost Park. Speaking but little and 
 seeing much, the boys continued, making their trail 
 according to Grizzly Dan's directions. 
 
 Up here nothing stirred, except an occasional rab- 
 bit hopping hole-ward to sleep until evening. Red 
 Chief up-lifted burly and tall, silently guarding the 
 west as Warrior guarded the east. Away at his crest 
 was clearly limned the white cross; and somewhere 
 near the white cross must be the Frapp mine. 
 
 The ridge was rocky but open, affording a fine out- 
 look. Threading by the easiest route, the boys could 
 scan, now the mountain slope, and now the valley be- 
 low. Old Dan had disappeared in a patch of timber 
 which extended, one might think, clear to the cabin; 
 and nowhere, on either hand, high or low, could be 
 seen a moving figure. That was good. Perhaps the 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 39 
 
 three hostiles, as Dan called them, had quit for a 
 time. If so, again good. Anyway, they were not up 
 on the mountain, hereabouts. 
 
 "Great, isn't it!" remarked Chet, quietly, over his 
 shoulder to Phil. 
 
 "I should say," responded Phil, as quietly. 
 
 And "great" it was, to be here, high amidst the 
 fresh morning in the untracked open, where one was 
 a brother to mountain and valley, shrub and rock and 
 tree. 
 
 Sure enough, as old Dan had predicted, when the 
 sun was two hours above the horizon the ridge split; 
 keeping to the left fork Chet began a gradual descent; 
 Phil and Cotton-tail and the dogs (the pups now 
 sobered and panting) filed behind. 
 
 "Here's the old trail," called back Chet. "Leads 
 to water, I reckon." 
 
 It was a faint trail, as if rarely traversed; and be- 
 cause Grizzly Dan knew of it, it probably was some 
 ancient trapper and Indian trail. The two forks rap- 
 idly widened. Below, a slender line of aspens and 
 willows, lighter green than the customary pines, be- 
 tokened a water-course. That must be the stream. 
 Beyond it, across, swelled another divide, red and tim- 
 berless. 
 
 So down the inside of the left-hand fork of the 
 ridge plunged the two boys, pursuing the remnants 
 of the old trail. Suddenly Chet reined in Medicine 
 Eye and pointed. 
 
 "There's somebody," he said. "See? Going up 
 along the stream. Man and hawss pack-hawss." 
 
40 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Phil's eyes leaped to the mark. Where the ridge 
 fell away and met the valley the willows and aspens 
 grew intermittently; and wending among them was 
 the small figure of a man, afoot, with a pack-animal 
 close behind him. Only a brief glimpse was given, 
 for in a moment both man and animal had passed 
 from sight, as if they might have been rounding the 
 foot of the ridge. 
 
 "Can't be old Dan, beating us to it," hazarded Phil. 
 
 "No," pronounced Chet. "Don't see his spotted 
 pony, and didn't look like him, anyway. Might be 
 one of those hostiles, though. Shucks ! We'd better 
 go slow till we find out." 
 
 "Shucks!" echoed Phil. "This country's getting 
 mighty small." 
 
 "It shore is," agreed Chet, wisely. "Too many 
 people. Wagh!" 
 
 "Wagh!" agreed Phil. 
 
 It seemed to them that they owned this immense 
 park (which they didn't), and that they especially 
 owned this great mountain (which they didn't) ; and 
 they wanted nobody else in here. 
 
 With eyes keen to the front, searching the locality 
 where the mysterious man and his pack-animal had 
 disappeared, they continued on down. The stream 
 gradually drew nearer, as they gradually dropped 
 lower, and after an hour's ride they began to hear 
 its pleasant tinkle. 
 
 With gesture of hand Chet changed direction, and 
 obliqued to the left, to round the foot of the ridge. 
 Phil understood. They would keep back from the 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 41 
 
 stream a little, and climbing the slight point would 
 obtain a good view of the country on the other side, 
 and perhaps a sight of the man. 
 
 It was a small stream, gurgling as it ran red over 
 red sand and gravel. Not a bird twittered; not a 
 token of native life was present. The brick hue of 
 the water and the utter silence save for the musical 
 voice of the current made the lonely valley a place 
 strange and weird. 
 
 Chet again pointed, this time down beside him. 
 
 "More sign," he warned, in cautious tone. "Tracks." 
 
 Phil nodded. Round hoof tracks were imprinted, 
 now and then, in the yielding red sand amidst the 
 rocks and stunted grasses over which they were riding. 
 
 "Burro," he volunteered. 
 
 Chet also nodded. 
 
 "Somebody's been gophering, too," he informed. 
 "Look at the hole. Prospector more prospector, I 
 reckon. Wagh! Pore business." 
 
 "Bad," growled Phil. "Don't like it. Too much 
 hostiles." 
 
 Yes, as they rode they had come upon a small hole, 
 freshly opened, as if somebody had been attracted to 
 stop and peck a few strokes with a pick or a spade. 
 
 Other "gopher" signs succeeded. They seemed to 
 occur with no especial system, except that they usually 
 marked where a small ledge outcropped, or the base 
 of low walls where the dirt had been washed loose, or 
 vari-colored streaks which occasionally appeared on 
 the surface of the prevailing red. None of the holes 
 was deep; they all were casual, where the passer-by 
 
42 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 had been attracted a moment, to investigate some spot 
 that struck his experienced eye, and then had con- 
 tinued on. 
 
 The voice of the stream, which had been tinkling, 
 began to increase in volume, indicating rough waters 
 above. Sure enough, where the foot of the ridge 
 ended, there was the mouth of a miniature gorge. 
 Boiling out, rilling the mouth, the stream sang loudly ; 
 and Chet veered aside, to look in. So did Phil. 
 
 Yes, it was indeed a gorge. Far down was the 
 stream, pent between the red rock walls and dashing 
 among jagged boulders. The sunlight illuminated the 
 depths, giving the effect of a fire glow. The scene was 
 wild and beautiful; but of more interest than the dash- 
 ing stream and the ruddy walls was the figure of a 
 man busily at work by the stream in the very bottom 
 of the canon. Near him stood patiently a packed burro ; 
 so it was the man whom they had been trailing. He 
 was squatting at the stream edge, holding something 
 in his two hands and twirling it with a circular motion. 
 
 "How do you suppose he got down in there?" de- 
 manded Chet. "He didn't ride up that current." 
 
 "Shouldn't think so," answered Phil. They could 
 talk freely, for the noise by the stream covered their 
 voices. "Must have got in from above." 
 
 "Well, we'll find out," said Chet, stubbornly. "I 
 want to know who he is and what he's trying to do. 
 Come on." 
 
 The burro tracks were faintly visible to them as 
 they resumed their trail; consequently the man had 
 crossed the foot of the ridge. On their way, again 
 
THE MAN IN THE CANON 43 
 
 they turned aside to peer down in. The man had 
 changed position and was picking a course upstream, 
 his burro following like a dog. He looked small, 
 down against the rush of waters pent between the high 
 red walls. 
 
 Bonita, venturing too close, and craning curiously, 
 dislodged a rock fragment; and away it went, bound- 
 ing and rattling, gathering other fragments and dirt, 
 to the bottom of the gorge. Chet and Phil exclaimed 
 disgustedly ; Bonita slunk back, ashamed ; and the man 
 below quickly looked up. 
 
 He saw the party high above him, on the canon 
 edge, and waved his hand and continued trudging 
 along he and his burro slipping and staggering and 
 leaping from stepping-stone to stepping-stone. 
 
 "Reckon he's coming out the way he went in," quoth 
 Chet. "Here, Bonita! You keep back. If one of 
 those rocks should land on him, it would go right 
 through him." 
 
 The walls of the canon lowered, as the foot of the 
 ridge, which they were crossing, fell away on the 
 farther slope. They reached the level, and looking 
 over a low gravelly bank which was the very com- 
 mencement of the canon they saw within a few yards 
 of them the man and his burro just leaving the depths. 
 The man carried on his shoulder a pick, in his hand 
 a shallow pan. He stopped, pecked at the gravel of 
 the bank, caught some in his pan, and squatting to 
 fill the pan with water he again twirled the pan with 
 circular motion. 
 
 After brief examination of what happened, he 
 
44 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 threw away the contents of the pan, and looking up at 
 the boys climbed the bank. This he did, on all fours, 
 by help of the pick; the burro, ears pricked, observing 
 him, also climbed, with a series of cat-like jumps, bear- 
 ing the pack gallantly. On top he shook himself, eyed 
 the boys and their animals, and stretching his neck 
 uttered a long, vigorous, triumphant "Hee-haw !" 
 Pepper, Medicine Eye, and Cotton-tail stared, round- 
 ly; the pups barked. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 
 
 THE man came on. He was a little man, with a 
 wooden stump instead of a right leg. Yes, he was a 
 little man, but a nimble little man despite his peg. He 
 wore a battered black hat, blue flannel shirt, suspen- 
 ders, corduroy trousers, and a laced boot; and all his 
 garb was plentifully spattered and daubed with soil. 
 His face was small, round and red, and like a withered 
 apple meshed with a multitude of wrinkles, out from 
 which peeped a pair of beady blue eyes. The hair 
 beneath the hat on his bullet-like head was short and 
 carroty, and carroty would have been mustache or 
 whiskers; but he was shaven, after a manner. 
 
 "Hello, boys," he greeted, with another wave of 
 his hand, as stumping briskly he arrived. "Top o' 
 the mornin' to yez or 'most noon, mightn't it be?" 
 
 "Same to you," answered Chet; and Phil joined 
 with "Howdy?" 
 
 "Well, an* how's tricks?" pursued the man, geni- 
 ally, with quick survey, by his twinkling beady eyes, 
 of the pack on Cotton-tail. "Prospectin', too, are yez ? 
 Good luck to yez." 
 
 "Same to you," again responded Chet, and Phil as 
 well. The little man's good nature was not to be 
 resisted. "Find anything down in the canon?" 
 
 "Oh, a color; jist a trace o' color." By accent the 
 
 45 
 
46 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 little man was Irish. "An' this." Leaning his pick 
 against him, from his pocket he extracted a small, 
 irregular pebble, blackish and pitted and twisted, not 
 unlike a molten cinder. He handed it to Phil. 
 
 Phil examined it, but could make nothing of , it. 
 Chet took it. The little man watched, his beady blue 
 eyes alert. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Chet boldly. "Ore?" 
 
 "Ore !" laughed the little man, much amused. "Ah, 
 an* great prospectors be yez, to ask the question! 
 Maybe ye'd call it ore, but it's a nugget, or perhaps 
 now it's a nodule; I dunno. Anyways, it's gould." 
 
 "Real gold?" demanded Phil, excited. "A gold 
 nugget? How do you know ?" He examined it again. 
 
 "Here, an' here," showed the little man, now taking 
 the pebble to himself, and with thumb-nail scratching 
 at it. He disclosed, in the cracks, to the boys peering 
 down, gleams of yellow. "By the heft of it yez might 
 guess, an' by the place it was found." 
 
 "A gold nugget!" The words breathed of magic 
 and romance; they had a large sound. 
 
 "Did you find it in the canon?" queried Chet. 
 "How much is it worth?" 
 
 "Sure, an' I washed it out jist before you come 
 along," informed the little man, amiably. " 'Tain't 
 worth much tin dollars or so. But that's all I got. 
 J Tis har-rd to resist a shake o' the pan, when wan 
 passes sand an' gravel. If I had a dime for ivery 
 shake o' the pan or a penny for ivery shtroke o' the 
 pick I've made, wouldn't I be 'atin' quail on toast 
 instid o' beans an' bacon!" 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 47 
 
 "You must be an old-timer, then," invited Phil. 
 
 "Ould enough to know better, after fifty years on 
 the prospect trail, my boy. Ould enough to be sittin' 
 'mongst my children an' grandchildren, 'stid o' kapin' 
 comp'ny mostly with a burro. But when wance you 
 get to wanderin', 'tis difficult to quit. Maybe," he 
 said, puckering his already puckered face, as he eyed 
 them shrewdly, "you be after the same mine I am 
 up yonder on the tip-top o' the mountain." 
 
 So here was another rival! 
 
 "There's a mine up there, then, you've heard?" 
 asked Chet, noncommittal. 
 
 "Ah, now, yez needn't be afraid o' me, lads," as- 
 sured the little man. " 'Tis a big mountain, an' a big 
 world, an' I won't crowd yez. Anywan who's been 
 minin' for as long as I have knows all about lost 
 mines. Sure, the country's full o' lost mines; an' 
 they're all the same. Nobody finds 'em. Thirty year 
 ago I heared o' this trapper mine; but somehow I 
 never got fairly shtarted for it, until now. I was 
 thinkin'," he added, rather wistfully, "that belike if 
 you was figgerin' on thryin' the mountain we might 
 work along together. Who knows but I've learned 
 somethin' o' prospectin' that yez haven't, bein' as yez 
 seem young yit; an' faith, if we find any thin' we'll 
 share an' share alike. If we find a mine it'll be enough 
 for three or it won't be enough for wan." 
 
 He waited, patiently, eying them; and about him 
 was an air so appealing, and so honest, and what 
 he said sounded so reasonable, that with a glance at 
 Chet Phil replied gladly: 
 
48 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "All right. Sure thing. We don't know much 
 about prospecting. Let's throw in together ; shall we, 
 Chet?" 
 
 "I'm willing," said Chet. "If Dan doesn't 
 object." 
 
 "Well, he doesn't know much about prospecting, 
 either," argued Phil. "And I don't believe he'd ob- 
 ject. This hunting red rock on a red mountain is quite 
 a job." 
 
 "The rid float, is it, you've found?" queried the 
 little man. 
 
 "Yes; here," proffered Phil, impulsively handing 
 over a bit from his store of samples. 
 
 The little man took it into horny palm (which of 
 the two middle fingers possessed only the first joints) 
 and turned it over and over weighing it, rubbing 
 it, and wetting it with his tongue. He squinted at 
 it through a small pocket microscope. 
 
 "Have yez much o' the same?" he asked. 
 
 "Some," replied Chet, shortly. 
 
 "Then I'll show yez." And dropping his pick, the 
 little man went hopping down into the creek bed 
 again. Here he knelt. Grinding the bit of float be- 
 tween his calloused palms, he reduced it to a powder 
 which he poured into the shallow pan that he carried. 
 Now he dipped some water; and while the boys, and 
 horses, and the Bonita family gazed interested (the 
 burro standing lop-eared and bored, as accustomed 
 to such proceedings), he agitated the pan so that the 
 fluid swirled and overflowed. 
 
 Presently the little man came hopping up, as nimbly 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 49 
 
 as he had hopped down. He extended the pan to the 
 two boys. It was about a foot and a half in diameter, 
 and five or six inches deep resembling a copper milk- 
 pan. The reddish powder, of the float fragment, had 
 been washed out by the water, and in the angle of 
 bottom and side glittered a slender thread of yellow. 
 
 "Looks like gold," blurted Chet. 
 
 "Looks like it, lad!" reproved the little man. 
 "Faith, an' if you'd gazed at the same as often as I 
 have yez wouldn't be insultin' it with doubts. It's 
 the rale stuff; an' I'd ask nothin' better than pannin' 
 out si viral ton of it though I'd rather play hog an' 
 use the hose, bein' quicker." 
 
 "Do you think it's worth following up, then?" ven- 
 tured Phil. 
 
 "Well," said the little man, "I've lost wan leg fol- 
 lowin' liss, an' now I'm riskin' the other for this very 
 cause. Ain't it quare how foolish a man gets, jist for 
 gould? Wan piece o' the rid I picked up, myself, a 
 day or two back, an' it made me crazy like. That was 
 across the ridge, yonder; but I sighted three other 
 men ahead o' me, lookin' as if they were prospectin' 
 on before; so I changed over to this side." 
 
 "Three men, with horses? One man cross-eyed?" 
 exclaimed Phil, quickly. 
 
 "With a pinto and a mule as led animals?" added 
 Chet. 
 
 "More'n I know, my lads," confessed the little 
 man. "But there were three, har-rd at work. So I 
 let 'em go. It's a big mountain." 
 
 "They're the same three, all right," asserted Chet 
 
50 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 to Phil. "When did you see them?" he inquired of 
 the little man. 
 
 "Well, now, an' maybe it was yisterday; an' from 
 the top o' the ridge I saw them agin this mornin'," 
 answered the little man. 
 
 "Prospecting?" 
 
 "Prospectin'," nodded the little man. 
 
 Chet gazed at Phil, and Phil gazed at Chet; and 
 each muttered: "Humph!" 
 
 "So it's a race, with a big shtake," continued the 
 little man, cheerfully. "An' may fortune bless the 
 winners. Tin thousand dollars or more to the ton, 
 in gould, will this rid stuff o' yourn run, if it's like 
 your sample, an' mine; an' if we might but be 
 so powerful lucky as to find a hundred tons, then 
 we all could buy a Christmas turkey. By your lave 
 I'll be savin' what we've got, anyhow as a 
 shtarter." 
 
 So saying, he fished from his pocket a small buck- 
 skin sack tied by a draw-string at the mouth ; and into 
 it he carefully scraped the tiny amount in the pan. 
 The sack slightly bulged at the bottom; therefore it 
 had not been empty. The little man retied the sack 
 and slipped it back again. 
 
 "Have you found any float in around here?" asked 
 Phil, anxiously. 
 
 "Not yit; but I'm thinkin' we will a little farther 
 up. There's color in the creek, only the current runs 
 so mortal swift it scours the banks clean. When we 
 get on the mountain-side a bit more, we'll find what 
 we're lookin' for. If we don't we'll smile an' try 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 51 
 
 somewheres else. It's a big mountain, an' a foine 
 wan." 
 
 "Guess we'd better be moving," uttered Chet, busi- 
 nesslike. "Got to meet our partner, up the trail. 
 Come along, if you want to." 
 
 "Sure, an' I will that," answered the little man. 
 "Lade ahead; I'll kape yez in sight." 
 
 Without another word Chet wakened Medicine 
 Eye into a walk, and proceeded on up the stream. 
 Phil fell behind. The cavalcade lengthened out. It 
 seemed to Phil that he ought to have dismounted and 
 put the little man (the cheerful little man with the one 
 leg) into the saddle; but glancing back he witnessed 
 the little man bravely pegging away, pick over shoulder 
 and pan under arm, driving his burro at the rear of 
 the procession. 
 
 Ten thousand dollars to the ton! Phil began to 
 think again upon this. Ten thousand dollars to the 
 ton ! And if the red float was a fair sample, one hun- 
 dred tons would mean one million dollars ! Whew ! 
 Even divided among four, it would be worth the find- 
 ing. Again whew! 
 
 "There's Dan, already!" called back Chet. "Either 
 he's early or we're late." 
 
 By the sun they weren't late. However, old Dan it 
 must be, sitting with long rifle across knees, near a 
 single pine trunk in a grassy basin beside the stream, 
 while near him browsed the spotted pony and the dun 
 mule, under saddle and pack. 
 
 As the boys approached, Grizzly Dan laughed his 
 silent laugh. Bonita and the pups rushed joyously 
 
52 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 forward. Cotton-tail whinnied to the dun mule, and 
 the dun mule only cropped the more busily. But 
 when the burro loudly hee-hawed, the dun mule stared 
 and the spotted pony snorted, as if wondering what 
 had come. 
 
 "Are we late?" queried Chet, as Grizzly Dan stood. 
 
 "No. I air 'arly, a bit. Who you got thar, on be- 
 hind?" 
 
 "He air a prospector, wagh!" grunted Chet, in ap- 
 proved white Injun talk. "Met him panning gold in 
 the creek. He wants to throw in with us." 
 
 "He's been prospecting fifty years," added Phil, 
 anxiously, for he liked the little man. "He knows 
 about the mine, too. Maybe he can help us." 
 
 "Knows about it, does he?" mumbled old Dan, 
 striding forward. 
 
 The little man pegged briskly up apple face red, 
 pick over shoulder, pan under arm. 
 
 "How air ye, stranger?" greeted old Dan. "The 
 boys say you want to pitch yore lodge with ourn. My 
 name's Grizzly Dan. What mought be yourn?" 
 
 "They call me Flapjack Jim," announced the little 
 man. "Lemme see. Guess I met you wance in Fifty- 
 eight, in Snake River country, Idyho." 
 
 "So you did, so you did," assured Grizzly Dan, 
 highly pleased. "Wagh ! That war when you miners 
 'most got wiped out by the Pelouse Injuns, for bein' 
 whar you'd no right to be, an' the soldiers war 
 ordered in, an' us trapper scouts. I nigh lost 
 my ha'r that time. The trail war hotter'n a 
 fryin' pan." 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 53 
 
 " 'Twas a foine country, barrin' the Injuns, an* 
 snow an' little wather an' not much to ate," mused 
 Flapjack Jim. "But I didn't shtay there. Hi!" he 
 shouted, at a sudden commotion among the animals. 
 "Lave be, Brownie! Lave be! Can't you be p'ace- 
 able, now?" 
 
 For the burro, who had been standing, ears drooped, 
 eyes half closed, as if in a doze, had made a sudden 
 vicious rush and had occupied the choice grass patch 
 just being enjoyed by Cotton-tail. Cotton-tail, sur- 
 prised and alarmed, retreated and sought for another 
 spot. 
 
 "Hee-haw!" sang the burro, triumphantly, and 
 dozed again. 
 
 "Look at that, will yuh!" exclaimed Chet to Phil. 
 "He's going to be boss o' the herd, all right." 
 
 "He's a wee baste, but he's terrible big in a fight," 
 responded Flapjack Jim. "Yez wouldn't think it, 
 what a timper he's got." 
 
 "Off packs, off packs ; unsaddle an' make yoreselves 
 at home," spoke Grizzly Dan, impatiently. "This is 
 good campin' place, an' it air pot time. Aren't ye all 
 wolfish? Hyar's a coon who's most gone beaver, his 
 meat-bag air so plumb empty. He can't travel till he's 
 filled up. Besides, we'd better make prospectin' plans, 
 'fore we go ahead. Those thar hostiles air close 
 about." 
 
 "How'd you happen to get here so soon, 
 Dan?" asked Phil, as all proceeded to strip the 
 animals. 
 
 "I tell 'ee, cause those thar hostiles air close about. 
 
54 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 On the way to cabin I sighted 'em, across yonder; an* 
 I made my own trail, I did, loaded the cache, an' 
 arrove hyar pronto with meat an' possibles." 
 
 "Flapjack Jim saw them, too. They were prospect- 
 ing, on the other side of that ridge, opposite, he says. 
 Saw them this morning." 
 
 "Sartin," nodded Grizzly Dan. "That's whar they 
 air, hard at work." 
 
 "Well," quoth Chet, sturdily, "we can beat 'em, all 
 right." 
 
 "Sure we can," declared Flapjack Jim. "We'll 
 make a big shtrike, an' we'll all be rich as Croesuses." 
 
 "Pot on the fire," hinted Grizzly Dan. "Fust fill 
 meat-bags; then talk." 
 
 "Faith, I can talk an' ate at the same time," laughed 
 Flapjack Jim. "Arrah, Brownie! What for yez be 
 so ill-timpered ? Ain't there grass enough for all? 
 Would yez be a claim- jumper?" 
 
 The burro, unpacked, with another sudden sally, 
 ears back and mouth open, had charged the dun mule 
 and Betty, amazed, had given way. Whereupon 
 Brownie hee-hawed at length. 
 
 The sun sank swiftly, and meeting the crest of 
 Red Chief disappeared there before the evening was 
 due. However, the camp soon settled itself; packs 
 had been opened, bedding spread, under Dan's brass 
 pot suspended from a forked stake the fire blazed and 
 crackled, and from the rim of the pot eddied the usual 
 fragrant steam. Bonita and the four pups lay asleep. 
 At pasture the burro continued to boss the other ani- 
 mals about, and seize on the best grass or what he 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 55 
 
 thought might be the best grass. Flapjack Jim at- 
 tended to the coffee. 
 
 In the twilight old Dan pronounced the supper 
 ready. 
 
 "They call me Flapjack Jim, becuz I can toss a flap- 
 jack up the chimley of a cabin, from inside, an' ketch 
 it, nicely turned, outside," explained the little man, 
 as they all sat, eating. "In the mornin' I'll show yez. 
 There be nothin' equal to flapjacks, to line the stomick 
 with, for a day's work; an' praise be, I've got the 
 makin's." 
 
 "That sounds good," praised Phil. "Flapjacks! 
 Hurrah!" 
 
 "Wagh ! Flapjacks or buff'ler meat, for this chile," 
 grunted Chet. 
 
 Nevertheless, interesting although the topic might 
 be, of more importance was the morrow's trail. So, 
 after supper, while the firelight succeeded the twilight, 
 crouched under blankets around the blaze they dis- 
 cussed ways and means. 
 
 "I've dhramed it all," asserted Flapjack Jim. "I've 
 dhramed o' matin' yez, an' of the cross on the peak, 
 yonder, an' of the rid float, an' of this shtrame, an' 
 all. An' by token o' the same there's a foine bonanza 
 waitin' for us up yon." 
 
 "Do your dreams come true?" asked Phil. 
 
 "Not always the way I dhrame 'em," confessed 
 Flapjack Jim. "Sometimes part of 'em come true, 
 but I niver know which part will it be. Jist the same, 
 I've dhramed o' bein' right here with yez all, an' of a 
 peak bristlin' with gould so thick we chopped it off 
 
56 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 with a hatchet an' sint it to the mint. Now here's part 
 o' the dhrame true alriddy an' like as not the other 
 part '11 come true, too. I'm foriver dhramin' o' lost 
 mines, an' it's time I found wan, after fifty years 
 searchin'." 
 
 Grizzly Dan nodded. 
 
 "Mebbe if we dance a leetle medicine it'll cl'ar the 
 trail for 'ee," he proposed. "What do ye make o' the 
 float?" 
 
 "That rid float is an iron oxide," declared Flapjack 
 Jim. "Gould comes put up in all sorts o' colors, rid, 
 black, pink, crimson, yellow, white, brown, purple, 
 gray, dependin' on what other minerals form the 
 rock that carries it; an' the same mineral has different 
 color accordin' to wather an' heat an' the mixture it's 
 put into. Sometimes you can see the gould the yel- 
 low gould speckin' the rock; an' agin you can't see 
 it till it's been trated out by roastin' or by chimicals, 
 or washed in the pan. Now, this rid float is an iron 
 oxide, which is to say 'tis an iron ore rusted by the 
 oxygen o' the air; an' it carries gould, a free gould, 
 separate an' distinct, so all we need to do is to wash 
 it loose. Faith, 'tis a beautiful way. How the gould 
 gets in, I do not say, but 'twas put there, when the 
 wor-rld was young yit, by gas an' shtame an' wather; 
 an' man has been thryin' iver since to get it out, an* 
 turn it to many uses, good an' bad." 
 
 "But if you don't see the gold, how do you know 
 it's there?" asked the practical Chet. 
 
 "How do yez know it's there! How do yez know 
 it's there!" repeated the little man. "Well, an' you 
 
FLAPJACK JIM JOINS THE PARTY 57 
 
 don't. Quite often it be there when you don't think 
 it's there, an' agin it don't be there when yez think it 
 is there. 'Tis as bad as a flea. The mineral wor-rld 
 is oulder than the human wor-rld, my lad, an', b j 
 gorry, we must work har-rd to learn in a thousand 
 years what happened in siveral million. Ah, this 
 study o' rocks is a grand study. But as for this rid 
 float, by look an' fale an' gineral make-up it's a plain 
 iron oxide, an' by heft an' consti-u-^wcy I suspected 
 that like as not 'twas better than plain iron. A pros- 
 pector always acts on suspicions, my lad; he's always 
 testin' an' learnin'. 'Most anybody without knowl- 
 edge o' rocks would have passed this rid float by, 
 bein' as the mountain is all rid an' rid rock is common. 
 But by spyin' it, an' pickin' it up, 1 found out, clearer 
 than your ould map can tell, that up above some- 
 wheres is a big outcrop from which this float is bein' 
 shpilled down the mountain. You see, this oxide for- 
 mation is a softenin' by wind an' weather; an' where 
 the main body outcrops it chips off, an' the chips are 
 carried on down by snow an' rain bein' what we call 
 float." 
 
 "And when we get as high as the outcrop, then 
 there'll be no more float," propounded Phil. 
 
 "Exactly," nodded Flapjack Jim. "Yez niver 
 heard o' wood or shtone either floatin' uphill, did 
 yez? Sure, this oxide float is mortal soft, an' the 
 most of it is crumbled to dirt, in its travels. But 
 we'll foind it in the dirt, by pannin', an' we'll kape 
 our eyes open for the pieces, too. We might climb 
 shtraight to yon cross, which looks to be quartz but 
 
58 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 may be somethin' else, trustin' to luck an' that ould 
 map; an' when we got away up there we'd have our 
 trouble for our pains an' be all at sea, in case no 
 gould was to be had for the askin'. So my advice be, 
 to play safe an' shtick to the float, which is certain." 
 
 "Wagh!" approved Grizzly Dan. "That's sense. 
 Foller the trail." 
 
 "Yis," continued Flapjack Jim. "Follow the float, 
 higher an' higher; workin' careful an' notin' when it 
 begins to narrow in, like, on right an' lift. The closer 
 we get to the main lead, the liss the float is spread 
 out; an' where the float is bunched, an' big in pieces, 
 we'll be close under the source of it, an' no mistake. 
 It's like as if we shtarted at the base of a triangle, an' 
 the outcrop we're sakin' is at the apex." 
 
 "Do you think we stand as good a show as those 
 men on the other side of the ridge?" asked Phil. 
 
 "We do," answered Flapjack Jim. "The ridge 
 runs up an' splits the slope o' the mountain ; an' maybe 
 their half the slope is the shteeper, so that the float has 
 come down a little further. But there'll be plenty on 
 our half the slope, an' we'll have the 'asier time with 
 it, by r'ason o' the fact that the climb is sweeter an' 
 the pieces are like to be bigger." 
 
 "Bueno," grunted Grizzly Dan. "This chile feels 
 like dancin' a leetle medicine, an' then eatin' agin an' 
 goin' to bed." 
 
 So to "Whoo-oop ! Ow-ow-gh ! Hay-ah-hay !" they 
 gaily circled the fire, with Flapjack Jim plying leg and 
 peg as brisk as anybody. Then they all turned in 
 Grizzly Dan having first investigated again his be- 
 loved pot. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 
 
 FLAPJACK JIM was cooking flapjacks. He was 
 squatting, peg at an angle, beside a little fire of his 
 own, the batter in his gold-pan, an iron skillet held 
 over the coals, and his burro looking almost over his 
 shoulder. By the other fire Grizzly Dan was making 
 coffee and frying bacon, and the air was full of deli- 
 cious smell. 
 
 "Will yez have 'em turned wance or three times?" 
 called Flapjack Jim, seeing the boys watching him. 
 
 "Three times," answered Chet, promptly. 
 
 "All right." And with deft motion tossing the flap- 
 jack from the pan into the air, Jim actually caused it 
 to turn over three times before it landed flat in the 
 pan again. 
 
 "Yez see," he explained, "it must make wan, three, 
 or five turns, always on the odd, so it will change 
 sides when it lands." 
 
 "Can you give it five turns ?" asked Phil. 
 
 "I can, but it ain't good for the flapjack," said 
 Flapjack Jim. "It gets tossed too high. But sure, 
 I'll show yez." And thereupon he tossed the pancake 
 for five turns. "When it lands from so high it lands 
 heavy," he continued. "An' a heavy flapjack be bad 
 for the stomick." 
 
 "There must be quite a science in making flap- 
 
 59 
 
60 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 jacks," proffered Phil. "I couldn't turn one once, ex- 
 cept with a shovel." 
 
 "Looks easy, though," hazarded Chet. 
 
 "Thry wan, thry wan, then," invited Jim. He re- 
 moved the flapjack from the spider to the pile of 
 others kept warm between tin plates set upon some 
 ashes, and poured in some fresh batter. "It takes jist 
 a turn o' the wrist; that's all." 
 
 Chet accepted the spider. The flapjack sizzled and 
 smoked, and soon it must be turned. 
 
 "Flop her up an 5 over, now," bade Flapjack Jim. 
 "With a turn o' the wrist, quick an' 'asy." 
 
 Chet would follow directions. He sharply flipped 
 the spider, and looked to see the pancake sail aloft, 
 turn, and come down bottom-side up, as a proper pan- 
 cake should. But instead, the flapjack, limp and 
 sticky, rose a few inches, half turned, and landed with 
 a smack on Chet's fingers grasping the handle of the 
 spider. The hot batter splashed and stuck like a plas- 
 ter; and with a howl Chet dropped spider and all into 
 the fire. 
 
 While Phil roared and Grizzly Dan chuckled, Flap- 
 jack Jim stumped to the rescue. 
 
 "Arrah, now !" he deplored. " 'Tis a good flapjack 
 spoiled." And he dragged the spider and all out of the 
 fire. 
 
 "It's more of a trick than you'd think, to toss a 
 flapjack," defended Chet, red and flustrated, to the 
 laughing spectators. 
 
 "No matter. Brownie gets the bad wans, anyhow," 
 comforted Flapjack Jim. 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 61 
 
 "Look!" cried Phil. 
 
 For the burro had eagerly sought the discarded 
 flapjack, and was munching it with much satisfaction. 
 
 "Sure, an' he likes flapjacks," informed Jim, busy 
 again. "Sometimes I make him a batch on purpose, 
 to kape him in good health. He takes 'em cooked or 
 raw, cold or hot." 
 
 Having finished this flapjack, Brownie stood with 
 long ears pricked, awaiting more. 
 
 His taste may have seemed odd, for an animal on 
 the horse and mule order, but when presently they 
 sampled the flapjacks the boys did not wonder at him. 
 Those flapjacks were luscious and smeared with ba- 
 con grease they were more luscious and eaten here 
 in the fresh air, with Red Chief towering over, they 
 were most luscious. 
 
 "An'," quoth Flapjack Jim, "they'll stay with yez." 
 
 "Wagh!" mumbled Grizzly Dan, working away. 
 "Hyar's stuff that'll shine 'longside beaver-tail an* 
 painter meat." 
 
 And, as further approval, sure enough Brownie 
 licked the batter pan ! 
 
 Now, after breakfast, the hither flank of Red 
 Chief, ruddy in the morning glow, waited and beck- 
 oned. It was arranged, by mutual consent, that Flap- 
 jack Jim, with his pan and his pick, should take the 
 middle; Chet should prospect on the left, Phil on the 
 right; old Dan would scout about, and be camp ten- 
 der, moving the equipment to keep pace with opera- 
 tions. 
 
 Red and undulating and apparently bare stretched 
 
62 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 onward and upward the mighty slope of Red Chief, 
 from the wide base to the mystic triple peaks. From 
 below it looked to be an even surface; but when 
 traversed it proved to be welted and dimpled and 
 broken, capable of concealing in its draws and hollows 
 a regiment at a time. 
 
 Carrying his new pick instead of his old and faith- 
 ful carbine, and accompanied by Bonita and the pups, 
 Phil trudged to the right. He kept his eyes open for 
 "float" and "outcrop" of all kinds, and tried to ima- 
 gine himself a veteran prospector. 
 
 However, this pursuit was about on a par with 
 looking for a needle or two in a haystack. The sur- 
 face of the mountain was so vast, and all objects were 
 so small in comparison. Phil constantly sighted bits 
 of red rock that looked like something especial; but 
 when he picked them up they seemed to be the ordi- 
 nary kind. Flapjack Jim had told him and Chet to be 
 on the lookout for low ridges or mounds or ledges 
 breaking up, indicating outcrop of rock different from 
 the prevailing formation rock that might be harder 
 than the other rocks and might contain mineral; and 
 then, on the other hand, when the mineralized rock 
 was softer than the other rocks, instead of an outcrop 
 there might be a crease. This crease should be in- 
 vestigated. 
 
 So Phil alertly scrutinized before and up and down. 
 When he came to any spot that looked like a mound 
 or a ledge, he industriously pecked away with his new 
 pick and found nothing exciting. It was the same 
 rock. In his mind's eye he was always sighting a 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 63 
 
 distinct outcrop, extending like a low wall, into which 
 he would peck, and out of which he would carve 
 chunks that would make Flapjack Jim exclaim: 
 "Hooray! Tin thousand dollars to the ton, my lad. 
 You've shtruck the bonanza, right away." Thus he 
 saw, with his mind's eye ; but with his practical eye he 
 saw nothing of the kind. 
 
 Occasionally he slipped a fragment of rock that 
 seemed interesting into the ore-sack which he carried. 
 The ore-sack and the pick grew heavy, the sun grew 
 hot, and he sat down, for a moment's rest. Near him 
 gladly flopped, panting, Bonita, and one by one the 
 pups joined them. 
 
 Above and below extended the mountain. On the 
 one hand was the ridge beyond which prospected the 
 three "hostiles" ; on the other were at work Chet and 
 Flapjack Jim. Somewhere down along the stream 
 which cut into the foot of Red Chief was Grizzly 
 Dan, on the scout. And across before lifted misty 
 the crest of Warrior Peak. 
 
 As he sat, Phil was not comfortable. Under him 
 was a sharp stone or two that hurt. So he shifted 
 position and looked. He picked up the loose frag- 
 ments, in order to smooth the spot, and was mechani- 
 cally tossing them away, when suddenly he quit, 
 turned over and over the piece that he was holding, 
 and muttered, at himself: 
 
 "Whoa! What's the matter with yuh! Haven't 
 you got any sense?" 
 
 And then he added, in a cheer: 
 
 "Hurrah! If this isn't some of that float, I'll eat 
 
64 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 it! Doesn't it beat the dickens! I was sitting on it, 
 and never knew it!" 
 
 Bonita sprang to her feet, and with pricked ears 
 came over to investigate. She knew that her master 
 had discovered something. And so he had, and he 
 was excited; for among the rock fragments that he 
 was tossing away, as rubbish, certainly were some 
 softer pieces apparently identical with the red float 
 samples and he had actually been sitting upon them ! 
 Now, wasn't that a great joke of the mountain's to 
 let a youth hunt and hunt and not find, and then to 
 have him sit on what he was after? 
 
 Phil rummaged closely, and gathered half a dozen 
 fragments of the bricky red rock; one, half embedded 
 where he had been sitting, was the size of a biscuit; 
 the others were smaller, and probably had formed a 
 part of the larger piece. They were scattered within 
 a radius, up hill and down, of ten or fifteen feet. 
 This comprised the hoard; Phil searched around, but 
 found no more. 
 
 Anyway, he had these; and it seemed to him that 
 he ought to show them to Flapjack Jim, and make 
 certain of their quality. Far on the left was to be 
 seen Chet's figure, prowling along the mountain-side 
 as he, too, hunted for float and other sign; but the 
 figure of Jim had disappeared. However, he must be 
 somewhere in that direction; and with the pieces in 
 his pocket Phil trudged in a hurry to show them. 
 
 In due time he heard some one singing. It was the 
 voice of Flapjack Jim, who, unseen, must be entertain- 
 ing himself as he worked. 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 65 
 
 "Burro an' pick, burro an' pick, 
 Thryin' the trail o' gettin' rich quick, 
 Lavin' your home an' lavin' your wife 
 Ain't it a tough wan, the prospector's life?" 
 
 Thus caroled Flapjack Jim; and 
 
 "Hee-haw!" applauded, as a chorus, Brownie. 
 
 Flapjack Jim was down in the bottom of a long, 
 narrow hollow similar to an arroyo. The bottom was 
 soft, and braced on his peg he was digging with a 
 spade. Close at hand stood Brownie, his burden- 
 bearer and faithful assistant, who had followed him 
 in. 
 
 "Burro an' pick, burro an* pick " 
 
 chanted the little man, as he toiled; when, notified by 
 the crunch of Phil's shoes on the edge of the hollo w, 
 he looked up. 
 
 "Come in, come in," he said, wiping his forehead 
 with the back of his hand. "What luck?" he asked, 
 as Phil, plunging down, arrived. 
 
 "Think I found some float," ventured Phil, sub- 
 mitting his prize. 
 
 "Sure enough," agreed Flapjack Jim. " Tis the 
 same stuff. An' where was it? Over yonder?" 
 
 "Yes. I didn't find it until after I'd sat on it, 
 though," confessed Phil; and he told. 
 
 "Exactly," nodded the little man. "Sure, aren't 
 some mines diskivvered only after fifteen an' twinty 
 years search an' then agin' they're diskivvered all of 
 a sudden by pure accident. Tom Cruse trailed the 
 Drum Lummond lode, in Montany, for twinty years 
 
66 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 before he caught it. Yes, an' some o' the time he 
 couldn't get trusted for a sack o' flour to make his 
 flapjacks with, he was so har-rd put. But he shtuck, 
 an' at last he found a ledge so grand that he can buy 
 his flapjacks alriddy made for the rist of his life. An' 
 on the other hand, down in New Mexico, didn't Jack 
 Adams throw away his haversack, the same bein' on 
 fire ; an' when the powder in it exploded aginst a rock 
 it blew open a foine rich vein that he wouldn't have 
 known was there at all, at all. So when yez sat on 
 your float 'twas nothin' strange. But here mebbe 
 I'm diskivverin' a pay streak on my own account; 
 Brownie an' me." 
 
 He resumed digging. The surface was of the red 
 gravel and sand, but now his spade was opening up a 
 black layer, beneath. This also was sand: a singular 
 fine sand, which might have been coal dust but which 
 didn't smut the fingers as Phil gathered some of it. 
 
 "We'll after be thryin' some o' this out, in the pan," 
 grunted Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "What you doing?" queried Chet's voice; and Chet 
 himself was standing on the brink of the hollow, and 
 gazing in. He looked like a cave-man or other wild 
 hunter as with a grunt he swung from his shoulders 
 an immense pair of branched horns, and leaned upon 
 them. 
 
 "What you got?" answered Phil, with a counter 
 question. 
 
 "Biggest elk horns I ever saw," responded Chet. 
 "Found 'em back where I was prospecting. They were 
 lying right in the open." 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 67 
 
 Up scrambled Phil, to inspect. Indeed and they 
 were the biggest of horns, in separate twin branches, 
 of course, each branch standing on a butt as high as 
 Chet was tall. 
 
 "The fellow who wore these must have been a 
 king elk, all right," praised Phil. "Did you find any 
 float?" 
 
 "Naw," grunted Chet. "Did you?" 
 
 "Yes, some." 
 
 "What's Jim doing?" again queried Chet, curious. 
 
 "Digging. He's found something, too a pay 
 streak." 
 
 "Must be a placer prospect, then," pronounced 
 Chet, out of superior knowledge; and leaving the 
 horns on the brink, together they plunged down into 
 this hollow where Flapjack Jim, attended by the long- 
 eared patient Brownie, was so busy. 
 
 Flapjack Jim's spade continued to throw up the 
 black sand, which contrasted so strongly with the 
 prevailing redness. 
 
 "Pay dirt?" asked the wise Chet, professionally. 
 
 "Dunno, my lad," replied the little man, digging 
 and perspiring. "But I'm thinking I'm most to bed- 
 rock, an' we'll jist take some o' this down to wather 
 an' pan it. Then we'll tell, mighty quick." 
 
 He was opening a trench, upon the bottom of which 
 his spade rang dully as if it encountered rock or hard 
 clay. The black sand lying the deepest he began to 
 shovel into an ore-sack; and presently, hoisting the 
 sack, with fifteen or twenty pounds of the sand in 
 it, over his shoulder, with pan in hand he sturdily 
 
68 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 stumped out of the hollow. Chet and Phil and 
 Brownie followed. 
 
 Flapjack Jim went stumping down to the stream, 
 deposited there his sack, opened it, half filled his cop- 
 per pan with the sand, and sinking the pan to its rim 
 in the current, he swirled it round and round, so that 
 the water washed in and was slopped out, repeatedly. 
 The sand, flowing away, grew less and less in the 
 pan. The operation was neatly done and did not look 
 any too easy. At least, it was like tossing flapjacks : 
 one had to know how. But the little man with his 
 maimed hand did it very well. 
 
 "Any good?" hazarded Phil, unable to wait longer 
 for results. 
 
 "You tell me an' I'll tell you," retorted Flapjack 
 Jim. "I guiss yez niver panned much, did yez? But 
 I'm r'achin' the bottom, when we'll all know more." 
 
 He alternated the whirling of the pan by a tilting 
 and a flirting which sent sand and water together over 
 the rim and out. Soon only the coarser particles of 
 the sand were left, and even these Jim skillfully 
 swished away. He was squinting earnestly into the 
 pan, while he worked; Phil and Chet, craning, peered. 
 
 "I see some, don't I?" exclaimed Chet. "Looks 
 sort of yellow, anyhow." 
 
 "Well, now, belike you do," admitted Flapjack Jim. 
 "There yez are," and he extended the pan for inspec- 
 tion, as with a grunt he straightened his back. "A 
 fifteen-cent pan, I make it not so bad, not so bad, if 
 it houlds out." 
 
 Fifteen cents' worth of gold was not very much 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 69 
 
 the merest trace of yellow. Phil was disappointed, 
 and Chet sniffed with a peculiar sniff which said plain- 
 ly, "Aw, is that all?" 
 
 "Wouldn't call that pay dirt, would you, then?" 
 asked Phil. . 
 
 "Wouldn't I?" returned Flapjack Jim. "Sure, an' 
 didn't I know yez weren't miners. Tin cents to the 
 pan be pay dirt; fifteen cents be plenty good enough, 
 an' twinty cents be rich. When wan washes forty 
 pans a day, as wan can, at tin cents to the pan, he 
 makes his four dollars, an' his board an' lodgin' aren't 
 costin' him very much, either. Yis, an' when on oc- 
 casion there's wan hundred dollars in a pan, as I've 
 seen, myself, b' gorry, in Calif orny, a fellow can 
 afford to buy a shirt although the same cost twinty dol- 
 lars, like it used to in the new diggin's. Yis, an' in 
 Montany they've washed out wan thousand dollars to 
 the pan ; but Brownie an' me, we're content with fifteen 
 cents, which is more'n most do." 
 
 Flapjack Jim concluded his speech by scooping 
 more of the sandy dirt into the pan, on top of the 
 streak of yellow; and he proceeded again to wash it. 
 He repeated the operation until he had used the sup- 
 ply in the ore-sack. Now the yellow in the bottom of 
 the pan was much increased ; and scraping it together, 
 he transferred it to his little buckskin bag. 
 
 "Going to bring all of that black stuff down here ?" 
 demanded Chet. 
 
 "That depinds. Tis a slow job, unless yez have 
 somethin' bigger than a pan. The pan's all right for 
 testin' or for wan man who doesn't nade much; but 
 
70 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 for a party there ought to be at laste a cradle or 
 rocker. Would yez know what that is?" 
 
 They shook their heads 
 
 "'Tis just a box like, set upon rockers like a cradle, 
 with an openin' at wan end, an* elates nailed across 
 the bottom inside. The dirt is dumped in, an' the 
 wather is poured in, an' when the thing is rocked 
 from side to side the wather carries the dirt out whilst 
 the gould settles aginst the elates. Or there's the 
 Long Tom, bein' a trough say twinty feet long an' 
 not dape, with elates in the bottom, an' a sieve near 
 the top for ketchin' the pebbles. When a shtrame is 
 turned in, to flow fairly rapid down it, an' plinty o' 
 dirt is supplied, two or three men can wash a couple 
 o' tons a day, an' make a clane-up o' the riffles at 
 night. An' there be other sluice conthrivances for 
 the Long Tom trough is a sluice, ye know, in miner 
 talk. But it all takes wather, yez see." 
 
 "I don't see, though, how you managed to let the 
 dirt go and keep the gold, when you panned unless 
 the gold is a whole lot heavier than the sand," con- 
 fessed Phil. 
 
 "An' so 'tis," said Flapjack Jim. "So 'tis. Gould 
 is the hivviest of all metals, except platinum an' 
 platinum is mighty scarce. So gould sinks, an' the 
 other stuff flows off. Gould be nineteen times as 
 hivvy as the same bulk o' wather, an' 'most twice as 
 hivvy as lead. An' wan grain of it can be baten out 
 to kivver close on twelve square fate, or fifty-six 
 square inches, which laves it wan two hundred an' 
 eighty thousandths of an inch thick. Yis, an' the same 
 
GOLD IN THE PAN; BUT 71 
 
 grain can be drawn out into a wire five hundred fate 
 long. I tell yez, gould is a wonderful metal Fire 
 doesn't change it, an' air doesn't change it, an' wather 
 doesn't change it, an' only a few acids work on it; 
 an' all in all, it lasts foriver." 
 
 "It does if you don't spend it," answered the prac- 
 tical Chet. 
 
 "Ah, well, if nobody shpent it the most of us would 
 niver get it," quoth Flapjack Jim. "Sure, the good 
 earth gives it to us in the first place, an' shtarts it 
 goin' the rounds. 'Tis not a question o' spindin' it; 
 'tis spindin' it the right way that counts." 
 
 "Going to pan more?" again suggested Chet, 
 eagerly. "Let's make a rocker, or a Long Tom. How 
 many tons of pay dirt do you think there are?" 
 
 "Pshaw, now," deplored the little man, "an' be you 
 gettin' the gould fever? 'Tis wan little prospect; an' 
 same as the float, 'tis sign of a bonanza waitin' up 
 above. The gould was washed down, like the float. 
 We'll not shtop to make any machine; we'll go on." 
 
 "But what made you dig down in there, in the 
 first place?" queried Chet, direct. 
 
 "That's what I'd like to know," added Phil. 
 
 "What made me? What made me dig down in 
 there, you say ?" cackled the little man, as they trudged 
 back for the hollow. "Faith, I guiss 'twas instinct. 
 When a man has prospected fifty years, he does things 
 by habit. It jist looked good to me, like as if there 
 might have been a shtrame cuttin' through there 
 wance ; an' so I opened it up to the pay dirt on the bed- 
 rock. Undershtand, now, that wance a river flowed 
 
72 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 down this mountain, if there was any mountain then; 
 but anyway, it was before you or I was born. An' the 
 foine gould washed with it, an' o' course settled low- 
 est, bein' hivviest; an' after the river shtopped, durin' 
 tin thousand or a million years, the earth an' the rock 
 filled in, an' mebbe the mountain was set atop of all, 
 kivverin' the gould in the shtrame bed, until an ould 
 Irish prospector comes along an' digs a hole an' finds 
 a bit of it." 
 
 "Wish I knew as much about prospecting as you 
 do," said Phil, impulsively. 
 
 "What I know I've earned, my lad," wheezed Flap- 
 jack Jim. "It's little enough, but it be mighty valuable 
 to me. Now let me tell you somethin'. In this work- 
 aday world what counts is skilled labor, no matter 
 how shmall or how big the job. The more you know 
 about it, the better yez are off. An' in prospectin' as 
 in every thin' else, yez must learn all yez can before 
 yez shtart out; an' after yez are shtarted yez must 
 kape on learnin'; for the man who thinks he can get 
 by luck what other men get by work is a foolish fool, 
 the world over." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 
 
 "GoiNG to dig more?" asked Chet, as they arrived 
 again at the hollow. 
 
 "I'm thinkin' I'll open it up a bit shtill," mused the 
 little man. "I may learn somethin' o' the formation 
 an' belike I'll turn up a noice lump of a nugget that 
 '11 fetch us twinty or thirty thousand dollars all at 
 wance," and he cackled as, surveying the hole he had 
 made, he vigorously scratched his head. 
 
 "What !" yelped Phil and Chet together. And 
 
 "Say!" gasped Chet, his sky-blue eyes wide and 
 wondering. 
 
 "Do you think you might?" queried Phil. 
 
 "Not ivery day," confessed the little man. "Wan 
 nugget found down in Australy fetched forty-two 
 thousand, I belave. It weighed wan hundred an' 
 eighty-four pounds. I don't see the same in this hole 
 o' mine. But I've seen many in Calif orny, some 
 weighin' up to fifty pounds an' worth tin an' twinty 
 thousand, an' wan or two weighin' a hundred. I re- 
 member well the day I shtooped over an' picked up a 
 pretty lump in Nevady it was o' gould an' quartz, 
 shaped like a horseshoe, b' gorry, weighin' nineteen 
 pounds to the ounce an' fetchin' me five thousand 
 dollars ; four thousand for the gould an' wan thousand 
 for the shape." 
 
 73 
 
74 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Oh, jimmy! Let's dig for nuggets!" exclaimed 
 Chet, flaming with excitement. 
 
 "Nuggets," quoth the little man, "are the main luck 
 o' minin'. Nuggets are mostly luck; but the search for 
 gould an' other mineral be science. Gould doesn't 
 grow, here, there, iverywhere, as tenderfate an' igno- 
 ramuses same to think. To the eye that can read, the 
 earth is an open book, with the laves shtandin' up on 
 edge, an' indexed; an' by these layers or shtrata the 
 eddycated eye is tould what's likely to be found inside. 
 But nuggets ! They be accidents an' yez can't depind 
 on accidents. I can count on the fingers o' my two 
 hands all the nuggets of any size that I've found in 
 fifty years o' prospectin' ; an' I've made wan hundred 
 fold the money by hard work that I've iver made by 
 such luck. So don't shtand there lookin' for me to 
 dig up nuggets, lads. Better be busy. 'Tis a long 
 way yit to the top o' the mountain an' the Trapper's 
 Mine." 
 
 "All right," said Chet. "That's sense, I reckon. 
 Come on, Phil. Might as well look for float, while 
 Jim's digging. Didn't see any on my side. Where'd 
 you find yours ?" 
 
 "I'll show you. Maybe it's all over here," proffered 
 Phil; and off he trudged. 
 
 "Keep your eyes peeled for nuggets, too," reminded 
 Chet, the picture fast in his mind. "We might find 
 one." 
 
 "If it's too big to handle, sure I'll lind you 
 Brownie," called Flapjack Jim, after. "An' if he 
 can't pack it all at wance, we'll shplit it." 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 75 
 
 "Hee-haw !" brayed Brownie, suddenly, as if ap- 
 preciating the humor. 
 
 Along the mountain-side went the two boys, pick 
 upon shoulder and Bonita and her pups trotting be- 
 hind. Phil thought that he could lead straight to the 
 spot where he had sat upon the float but somehow he 
 didn't come to it. He remembered exactly how the 
 spot looked, and the marks of his heels should show. 
 He remembered a little bunch of weeds, and the view. 
 Well, it ought to be right here ; but where was it ? 
 
 He halted, and gazed about. Chet halted, too. 
 
 "I thought this was it, but it isn't," explained Phil. 
 "Must be on a little farther." 
 
 "Didn't you back-track?" asked Chet. 
 
 "No. Couldn't, very well, in this rock. Didn't 
 suppose I needed to." 
 
 They proceeded. Phil was constantly noting a spot 
 that looked like the right one, but it never turned out 
 to be it. 'Twas astonishing, how deceptive the moun- 
 tain slope proved how many places there were which 
 resembled one another and then turned out to differ. 
 
 "Guess I'll have to give it up," acknowledged Phil. 
 "Let's look for other float." 
 
 "And peck into every likely bump or hollow," urged 
 Chet. "Mustn't miss any surface indications. We 
 might uncover a lead or another placer prospect." 
 
 "Sure thing," agreed Phil. 
 
 They separated, and went industriously searching 
 and grubbing, each anxious to be the first in reporting 
 great news. Phil's scanning eyes fell upon a fragment 
 of reddish brick-reddish rock; it struck him as a 
 
76 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 possibility; he grabbed it, felt it, wet it, and yes, it 
 was, he was sure that it was, more float. He looked 
 in Chet's direction, to call; and there was Chet pranc- 
 ing and beckoning. Over hastened Phil, running 
 across the mountain-side. 
 
 "What is it?" he cried. 
 
 "Found a big nugget!" announced Chet. "See?" 
 And he held it out. 
 
 Phil's heart leaped. He noted that Chet had 
 been pecking with his pick and had opened a little 
 patch of black like the black sand. Now he took into 
 his fingers the object extended to him by Chet and, 
 yes, it certainly was a nugget. It was heavy and 
 blackish and curiously pitted, and gleaming with yel- 
 low a pebble fragment similar to the one exhibited by 
 Flapjack Jim, but much larger, about the size of a 
 butternut. 
 
 "Isn't that a nugget?" demanded Chet, excited. 
 
 "It shore seems so, to me," confirmed Phil. 
 
 "It shore does to me, too," said Chet. "Found it 
 right in this black sand. What do you think it's 
 worth? Five hundred dollars?" 
 
 "Guess so. Hurrah for you!" 
 
 "Get to digging, get to digging," urged Chet. 
 "Maybe we'll find another. This black sand is sign. 
 Loosen it with your pick and work it over with your 
 hands." They fell to. "Thought this spot looked kind 
 of suspicious," panted Chet. "So I hit her a clip 
 and out came the black stuff and next thing out 
 came the nugget. What 'd you find over there?" 
 
 "Oh, just a piece of float," answered Phil. 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 77 
 
 "As long as we can find nuggets, what's the use of 
 hunting for float?" argued Chet, still elated. 
 
 "I should say !" agreed Phil. 
 
 They pecked, and squatting they clawed the black 
 sand, sifting it through their fingers. Before they had 
 made much of a pile the sand was at an end; for in- 
 stead of being an ancient stream-bed, as where Flap- 
 jack Jim was working, it was only a shallow deposit, 
 filling a little cup. Not another nugget was felt ; how- 
 ever, the gopher-mound of the sand glittered with 
 golden particles. 
 
 "It's a bonanza, just the same, what there is of it," 
 boasted Chet. "Let's pack this sand over and pan out 
 the gold with Jim's pan." 
 
 "And show him the nugget," added Phil. "He can 
 tell what it's worth." 
 
 "Don't waste any of that sand," cautioned Chet. 
 
 Feverishly they scooped the sand, with their hands, 
 into the ore sacks ; and each laden with his heavy sack, 
 besides his pick, they set out to astonish Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "We don't want to lose this place ; it may have a lot 
 more deposits," warned Chet. 
 
 "Remember it by that big red rim-rock, right 
 above," puffed Phil. 
 
 They presently were guided by Flapjack Jim's sing- 
 ing. It was a new song, loudly chanted. 
 
 "I'm the faithful animile of a most peculiar shtyle; 
 
 I'm supposed to be a sort o' goat an' bird; 
 Where there's niver trail nor track do I tote the hiwy 
 
 pack, 
 
 An' I sing the swatest carols iver heard: 
 Hee-haw!" 
 
78 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Hee-haw !" chimed in, as chorus, Brownie the 
 burro. The pups ran forward, barking sillily; and 
 when the boys and Bonita arrived, the little man was 
 looking for them. He had dug considerable of a 
 trench, and now stood gazing at it. 
 
 "Back agin, be yez?" he greeted. "Did yez hear 
 Brownie's song?" 
 
 "We sure did," responded Phil. 
 
 "He alluz comes in on the chorus; the words be 
 mine, the sintiment his/' explained Flapjack Jim. 
 "What's the good news?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," drawled Chet, with great pre- 
 tense of carelessness. "How are things with you? 
 Going to pan?" 
 
 "I've come to the end," reported the little man, 
 scratching his head. "The bed-rock runs in under 
 a lava cap, an' there I be. Yis, mebbe I'll pan what I 
 have out, but 'tain't much." 
 
 "Well, we found a small bonanza," admitted Chet, 
 to comfort him. "Thought if you weren't using your 
 pan we'd wash out what we've brought over, and see 
 what it amounts to." 
 
 "Placer, be it?" queried the little man, alertly, 
 climbing out of his hollow. 
 
 "Same kind of pay dirt as yours, only richer," in- 
 formed Phil. "It's in our sacks. And Chet found a 
 nugget, too." 
 
 "What do you think of that?" challenged Chet, 
 proudly, the nugget in his hand. 
 
 "Arrah, now," crooned Flapjack Jim, taking it and 
 examining it. He turned it over, and over, wet it with 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 79 
 
 his tongue, and applied his pocket-microscope to it. 
 Then with the point of his knife-blade he scratched 
 at it. 
 
 Out of his beady blue eyes he looked slily at the two 
 boys. " 'Tis a wonder, ain't it !" he said. 
 
 "How much do you think it's worth ?" invited Chet, 
 gratified. And Phil waited, breathless, for the esti- 
 mate. 
 
 "By the piece or by the ton?" asked the little man. 
 
 "This piece, alone." 
 
 "Well, now," mused Jim, "if you can throw 
 shtraight enough yez might make a foine splash in the 
 shtrame with it. Sure an' it's nothin' but iron 
 pyrites." 
 
 "Isn't it gold? Hasn't it got gold in it?" gasped 
 Chet and Phil, at once. 
 
 "Not a bit, as I can see. Did yez think it had?" 
 
 "What's that yellow?" 
 
 "That's the iron, in shape o' fool's gould." 
 
 "Aw, shucks! Iron pyrites!" bemoaned Chet. "It 
 fooled us." 
 
 "Fool's gould is what they call it ; an' you're not the 
 first wans to 'be mistook in it," consoled the little man. 
 "But I'll tell yez how to look out for it, after this. 
 The shine is off color, bein' brassy, an' the shape o' 
 the particles is crystals, with sides or faces to 'em, as 
 the microscope will show yez better'n the naked eye. 
 Gould does not come in the regular grains o' crystals. 
 An' the wan best test be the point o' the knife. Gould 
 be soft an' yez can cut it; pyrites be hard an' yez can 
 scarcely scratch it. Jist remember that: rale gould 
 
8o TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 be soft, fool's gould be hard. If yez '11 take this nug- 
 get o' fool's gould an' thry it with the knife, yez '11 
 see how hard it is." 
 
 "And we thought it was worth about five hundred 
 dollars," faltered Phil, ready to laugh. "Isn't it worth 
 anything ?" 
 
 "Principally as an eddycation, my boy," asserted 
 Flapjack Jim. "By the ton the pure stuff has some 
 bit of a sale, I guiss, at a shmall figger; 'tis an iron 
 sulphide, being sulphur and iron; they use it to make 
 sulphuric acid an' copper an' the like. But for the 
 prospector its principal use be eddycation, tachin' him 
 to use his senses. When he sakes iron, he sakes it 
 in better form." 
 
 Chet mournfully examined his "nugget." 
 
 "Then I suppose what we've got in the sacks is 
 more fool's gold," he deplored. 
 
 Flapjack Jim delved into an ore-sack and let a 
 handful of the black sand, so glittering, run through 
 his fingers. 
 
 "The same," he said. 
 
 "It's black sand, though, just like yours. Isn't 
 black sand sign of pay dirt?" 
 
 "It be a suspicion, not a sign. The black sand be 
 hivvy with iron an' sinks along with the gould, an' 
 so 'tis often found with the gould, in placer minin' 
 of our river beds an' ould beaches. But b' gorry, 
 there be plinty o' placers [Flapjack Jim pronounced 
 it with the short 'a' as in 'fat'] without the black sand 
 at all. Clay an' gravel an' other dirt they be placer 
 mines, jist as good. An' the black sand be a bother, 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 81 
 
 becuz it shticks fast in the pan an' it clogs the riffles. 
 But when the black sand be prisent with the gould it 
 lies next to the gould, an' it be a sign to tell us we're 
 gettin' warm." 
 
 "Well," quoth Chet, "here goes five hundred dol- 
 lars," and he chucked away the "nugget" as far as 
 he could. It went bounding down the slight slope. 
 "Going to take your stuff down to the creek and pan 
 it?" 
 
 "I was thinkin' so," said the little man; "with you 
 lads to help me. But there ain't much, for we've come 
 to the end. Walk down in, wance, an' I'll show yez. 
 There be a lava cap kivverin' the whole placer, I reck- 
 on; an' now I've shtruck it an' gone as far as I can 
 without tunnelin'." 
 
 Into the hollow they plunged. Flapjack Jim had 
 trenched from edge of black sand deposit to edge, and 
 around about had encountered a hard blanket of 
 rock. By picking and shoveling he had excavated 
 under this, in places, so that it formed a pro- 
 jecting shelf. 
 
 "Pshaw!" sympathized Phil. 
 
 "After the wather came the fire," mused Flapjack 
 Jim; "an' the lava shtuff flowed down an' kivvered 
 the ould river bed, except in shpots. So the man who 
 wants to follow the gould must drive tunnels in under 
 the lava cap. But that'll not be us, an' it's jist as well, 
 for the placer would be mighty timptin,' an' those other 
 men might bate us to the top o' the mountain an' the 
 great big bonanza waitin' for somebody there. Did 
 yez foind any more float?" 
 
82 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Yes, Phil did," answered Chet. "I was finding 
 nuggets !" 
 
 "Same place?" 
 
 "N no," confessed Phil, ruefully. "I lost that 
 place. Couldn't trail it again, high or low." 
 
 "Another lost mine, then?" piped the little man, 
 cheerfully, as they set to work loading the ore sacks 
 with the sandy dirt, for packing out by themselves 
 and Brownie. "Can yez wonder how it is that the 
 wanderin' prospector or some other man '11 come upon 
 a grand outcrop, in a strange country, an' lave it for 
 a time, an' niver be able to foind it agin? I tell yez, 
 gould is bewitched. There's the Pegleg Smith Mine 
 another trapper mine, it be. Ould Pegleg found it 
 long, long ago, on the highest o' three little black hills 
 down on the Colorado Desert 'twixt Yuma an' Los 
 Angeles. Eighty per cent, gould was the ore; but 
 Smith niver found the shpot agin, an' for siventy 
 years prospectors be huntin' for those three little hills. 
 Wan did foind 'em, an' away he rushed with samples 
 o' the rich ore; but niver agin did he get sight o' 
 the three hills. There be the Belle McKeever lost mine 
 in Arizony, diskivvered in Sixty-nine by soldiers on 
 the trail o' Apaches who'd captured a young lady by 
 name o' Belle McKeever. The gould was lyin' 'round 
 as big as buckshot an' in spoite o' searchin' since, 
 it be there yit, for all we know. There be the Lost 
 Cabin Mine an' the Gunsight Mine an' the Nigger 
 Biggin's, an' in Colorado the Antoine La Joie. La Joie 
 was a ranchman in the mountains, an' while pursuin' 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 83 
 
 Injuns to get back his shtock he set down his gun 
 agin a rock. Faith, an' the butt knocked off a bit 
 o' quartz fairly burstin' with gould. Then the Injuns 
 descinded on him an' drove him back out o' the gulch ; 
 an' niver did he see the gulch more, except in dhrames. 
 He couldn't foind it. So I tell yez, gould be be- 
 witched. But we'll go to the top o' the mountain, jist 
 the same, sakin' the Trapper's Mine." 
 
 The noon had passed, almost without their know- 
 ing it; and before all the pay dirt had been packed 
 down and washed, the sun was low. However, Flap- 
 jack Jim's buckskin sack was heavier than in the 
 morning, and the boys had added to their store that 
 which was better than gold, knowledge. 
 
 "It's gettin' on time for camp, I'm thinkin'," spoke 
 Flapjack Jim, as at last he might straighten his back 
 and peer about. "Have yez seen old Dan, this day yit, 
 since breakfast?" 
 
 "Thought I saw him once or twice, down here 
 along the creek," asserted Chet. "Expect camp's up- 
 stream, somewhere." 
 
 "Here he comes," said Phil; and Grizzly Dan was 
 in sight, wending his way at a canter, on his spotted 
 pony, following the course of the stream. 
 
 The ready Bonita dashed forward; the pups 
 yapped; Brownie vented a lugubrious "Hee-haw," at 
 which the spotted pony laid back his ears as if irri- 
 tated; old Dan lifted fringed buckskin arm in his cus- 
 tomary salute. 
 
 "How?" he greeted. "Xpec' you must be plumb 
 
84 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 empty. Hyar's a coon who's filled his meat-bag 
 twice since sun-up; but he's wolfish agin, he air. 
 What's the sign?" 
 
 "Found some more float, Jim's panned out a small 
 placer, and Chet picked up the biggest elk horns we 
 ever saw," reported Phil. "Look at 'em! tall as we 
 are!" 
 
 "Wagh!" grunted Grizzly Dan. "Must be off a 
 medicine elk, shore. No common critter wore horns 
 like that." 
 
 "I found a five-hundred-dollar nugget, too," 
 grinned Chet. "Only when we showed it to Jim it 
 was just iron pyrites and wasn't worth five cents!" 
 
 Grizzly Dan gravely nodded his shaggy head. 
 
 "Shorely," he confirmed. "That war medicine 
 gold. I know it well. If you only had the right 
 words an' yore own medicine war strong, you could 
 turn it back agin. All this hyar air medicine country, 
 an* I wouldn't be surprised if lots o' things happened 
 'fore we find that Frapp mine. Shouldn't wonder if 
 the critter who wore those thar horns war Old Four- 
 Toes, the big medicine b'ar, in another shape. We 
 thought we saw him wiped out by the buff'ler fight, 
 over t'other side o' Warrior Peak, last summer, you 
 remember. Wall, he jest changed shape; an* now 
 hyar he air, on Red Chief, watchin' us." 
 
 "But those horns must have been dropped in the 
 spring," argued Chet. "Spring is the time when deer 
 and elk shed their horns." 
 
 Grizzly Dan shrugged his shoulders, unabashed. 
 
 "Doesn't matter," he declared. "Medicine elk can 
 
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD 85 
 
 shed his horns any time, an' grow 'em any time. 
 Wall," he continued, "pot's on the fire an' thar's 
 more strangers in the country. So let's be gettin' 
 into camp." 
 
 "More strangers?" exclaimed the boys, as old Dan 
 led off. 
 
 "Yep. I've crossed fresh pony tracks several times 
 to-day, an' : I saw a moccasin print in the sand. 
 We're liable to have visitors to-night." 
 
 "Must be Utes in here hunting," said Chet. 
 "They're likely to act mean, too !" 
 
 "We'll be ready for 'em," remarked Grizzly Dan, 
 grimly, riding easily but with keen outlook under his 
 bushy eyebrows shaded by his flapping-brimmed hat. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 
 
 THE new camp had been established upstream a 
 short distance, by a spring. Here Dan's brass pot was 
 hanging over the fire, and near at hand were grazing 
 Medicine Eye and Pepper and Cotton-tail and Betty 
 the dun mule. The moment Flapjack Jim unpacked 
 Brownie, he (Brownie, of course) trotted, with ears 
 flat and nose out, straight for the pasture, where he 
 scattered the occupants right and left and investigated 
 one choice spot after another. Having thus resumed 
 his mastership he ' 'Hee-hawed" triumphantly, and 
 rolled. 
 
 The sun sank behind Red Chief. The high places 
 remained light, but from the low places welled the 
 evening shadows, and gradually spread. Everybody 
 in camp was tired; even the pups, for they sprawled 
 lax in Chet's and Phil's laps while the boys named 
 them. 
 
 One was "Woof," because he had a queer little 
 bark, deep in his throat. One was "Rags," because 
 his coat was uncommonly long and shaggy. One 
 was "Nig," because he seemed not to have a white 
 hair on him. And one was "Limpy," because he 
 favored a foot which he must have hurt in the brush. 
 
 Grizzly Dan and Flapjack Jim were squatting by 
 the fire, puffing their pipes and exchanging reminis- 
 
 86 
 
CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 87 
 
 cences. The horse and mule herd was gently grazing, 
 a short distance away. Brownie the burro had edged 
 in closf r and was nosing about, like a dog, for scraps. 
 He appeared much to prefer scraps of meat, potato, 
 and other table stuff, to grass. 
 
 All was peaceful, when suddenly Bonita growled, 
 the pups awoke with a jump, to bark, and old Dan, 
 grasping his long rifle, straightened with a guttural 
 "Wagh!" He sat alert. Phil felt for his carbine, 
 lying beside him; Chet for his rifle. Flapjack Jim 
 listened, intent, and Bonita growled louder. There 
 was clatter of hoof, a splashing in the stream, and 
 through it and up the bank, into the camp, rode three 
 figures. 
 
 "Injuns!" muttered Grizzly Dan, moving only to 
 gaze. 
 
 Indians they were: a young man in sombrero and 
 calico shirt and overalls leading, rifle across saddle- 
 horn; behind him two boys, in buckskin leggins, their 
 slender bodies bare, bows in their hands. They rode 
 without saddles; the left arm of one was roughly 
 bandaged; behind the other was tied a long, limp car- 
 cass. 
 
 "Huh! Charley Pow-wow!" grunted Chet. 
 
 Sure enough. Phil felt relieved, although he had 
 not been afraid. Charley Pow-wow, son of aged 
 Chief Billy of the Ute Indians, was an old acquaint- 
 ance and several times had proved to be a friend. He 
 had been educated in a school; now he lived with his 
 tribe on the Reservation; and so he was a mixture of 
 white mind and red mind. 
 
88 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 As the three riders drew nearer, the horse and mule 
 herd snorted, Brownie the burro pricked his long ears 
 and stared, the pups showed two hearts, one that 
 made them bark bravely and one that made them run 
 cowardly, and Grizzly Dan, standing, leaning upon 
 his flintlock and waiting, received the callers with the 
 usual "How?" 
 
 "How?" they responded. They nimbly dismounted, 
 and leaving their ponies they advanced on foot to the 
 fire. 
 
 "Hello, Charley," spoke Chet and Phil, shaking 
 hands with him. 
 
 He was a solemn- faced, broad- faced, dark-faced 
 youth, in farmer costume, but with two braids down 
 his back. He shook hands all round, and with sober 
 visage and with "Hows" repeated, the two boys, his 
 companions, also shook hands all round. 
 
 "We know them," asserted Chet, boldly. "They're 
 the same two we met on the trail to the village, last 
 summer, when we rescued the Professor and Cherry 
 and Molly and Pete. Remember, Phil? We almost 
 had a fracas with 'em, and Dan arrived just in time." 
 
 "Sure. I remember," confirmed Phil. 
 
 And so he did. The slimmer, lighter of the twain 
 could speak English; the other, who was stockier and 
 darker and more sullen, couldn't or wouldn't. The 
 darker one now wore the bandaged arm. The leggins 
 of both were only imitation buckskin, being cloth 
 trousers sewed along the seams with flannel fringes. 
 The weapons carried were bows and arrows. But 
 poor as was this equipment, something in the grave 
 
CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 89 
 
 bearing of the two youths gave them a new atmos- 
 phere of manly pride. 
 
 "Maybe. I cannot say," replied Charley Pow-wow, 
 cautious not to admit anything. "This one Tony," 
 and he indicated the dark, stocky boy ; "this one Fran- 
 cisco," and he indicated the light, slim boy. "We are 
 hunting." 
 
 "Got something, too, didn't you?" queried Phil. 
 "Tied on that hawss?" 
 
 "It is a mountain lion," informed Charley. "Fran- 
 cisco and Tony track him, into a hole. When they go 
 in after him, before they kill him with their knives 
 he bites Tony in the arm. Then Francisco stabs him 
 through the heart." 
 
 "Wagh! Heap braves!" approved Grizzly Dan. 
 "Those thar boys '11 make warriors." And in the In- 
 dian tongue he spoke a few words that made the eyes 
 of Tony and Francisco flash. But they kept their 
 faces unmoved. 
 
 "Yis, anybody, man or boy, who'll tackle a cougar 
 in a hole, with only bow-an'-arrow an' knife, shows 
 the rale spunk!" declared Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Let's look at it," proposed Chet. 
 
 He and Phil inspected the dead lion. He was a 
 tremendous big fellow, flanks and nose almost touch- 
 ing the ground on either side of the pony's heels. An 
 arrow was still buried to the feather in his chest, and 
 a knife stab showed darkly red. 
 
 When they returned to the fire the three Indians 
 were eating, at Dan's invitation. Their curiosity had 
 been excited by the immense elk horns. 
 
90 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "That is a very large elk," was saying Charley. 
 "He has always lived on this mountain. My people 
 think that he is the big medicine here. He is not a 
 regular elk. He is the spirit of some great warrior, 
 maybe ; or maybe he is just magic, what we call medi- 
 cine. He owns this mountain. It is his country. He 
 does not like that people should come on it." 
 
 "I knew he war somebody 'special," nodded Grizzly 
 Dan. "But we'll smoke to him an' tell him we mean 
 no harm." 
 
 "You are going to the top," accused Charley. "You 
 must not. You will never get there, and if you do 
 you will never come down again. Nobody can ex- 
 plore this mountain. It is bad to those who try. You 
 are prospecting, and that is the worst thing of all. You 
 will think you find gold and it will turn to iron or 
 dead leaves and sticks; and you will be driven back, 
 or maybe be killed, by water and snow and hunger. 
 The old men in my tribe know, and all the Indians 
 know ; and the mountain has been the same for many, 
 many years. It is bad medicine what you call bad 
 luck." 
 
 "Did yez never hear o' that wonderful rich mine, 
 on the top?" asked Flapjack Jim. 
 
 Charley gazed somberly at him. 
 
 "Yes. That is the Trapper's Mine. But my peo- 
 ple knew of it long before any white man did. And 
 long before the Americans saw this mountain, other 
 whites had been here, digging for gold. I have seen 
 their sign. But they did not stay. Something very 
 bad happened to them, and drove them away, you 
 bet." 
 
THE BIG KING APPEARS. 
 
CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 91 
 
 "Ould Spanish workin's, belike/' quoth Flapjack 
 Jim. "The Spaniards from the south prospected all 
 through the Rockies, b' gorry, ere yet the United 
 States extended west o' the Atlantic Ocean." 
 
 "I do not know," responded Charley. "But we 
 would not hunt here except that our people are hun- 
 gry and game is scarce. You had better not climb 
 further, and those men on the other side of that ridge 
 had better not climb further." 
 
 "Saw those three hostiles, did you?" queried 
 Grizzly Dan, quickly. 
 
 Charley nodded. "There are three men looking for 
 gold, just like you are. But they are what we call 
 bad whites ; one of them is the man who played traitor 
 to your party last summer, when he came to my peo- 
 ple and said that you were out of food and ammuni- 
 tion. But we did not think any more of him for that. 
 He is there and two other men, and climbing fast. 
 The mountain will take care of them, very quickly. 
 But you are my friends and so I want you to turn 
 back." 
 
 "Wagh!" ejaculated Grizzly Dan. "Gettin' ahead 
 of us, air they? I ought to have scouted over there, 
 to-day." 
 
 "They are climbing fast," repeated Charley. 
 
 "Aw, shucks!" deplored Chet. 
 
 "An' faith, we'll climb faster, then," asserted the 
 little man, promptly. "They've got the shtapest, 
 weVe got the 'asiest. Hooray!" 
 
 "That's right," spoke Phil. "We'll race 'em." 
 
 The three Indians had now finished the supper. 
 Charley stood. 
 
92 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "We must go," he said. "We have a camp that is 
 quite a way from here, and it is not good to ride far, 
 on this mountain, after dark. The mountain is medi- 
 cine mountain, and does not want people on it. So 
 I have warned you. Whatever you find, you must 
 not trust in it. Good-by. Maybe I will see you 
 again, maybe not. As for those other prospectors, let 
 them climb. It will be good riddance. You who 
 stay behind will be better off. Good-by." 
 
 "Good-by. Much obliged, Charley," responded the 
 two boys. 
 
 "Good-by, good-by," bade the young Indians has- 
 tily. They had only eaten silently, and held them- 
 selves proudly, and Tony had paid not the slightest 
 attention to the pangs of his wounded arm. 
 
 "Sure, we'll see yez later an' tell yez about it," 
 exclaimed Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Adios, adios," grunted old Dan. 
 
 Away through the dusk rode the three. They left 
 the camp a camp excited. 
 
 "Well," chirped the little man, "now I do believe 
 we'll be pushin' on for the top, an' niver mind the 
 float so much. B'gorry, we'll not shtop for any com- 
 mon bit of a pay streak, like we fooled with this day, 
 an* we'll not shtop for any surface indication liss than 
 a blowout so yellow with gould that it blinds us an' 
 we can't get past. To the top o' the mountain, my 
 boys; to the top o' the mountain." 
 
 "That's fine talk," grumbled Grizzly Dan, "but 
 hyar's a coon who knows the value o' sign on the 
 trail, an* he knows it air a long trail to the scalplock o' 
 
CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 93 
 
 Red Chief. Got to have water, an' got to savvy a 
 leetle how we're headin'. Won't do to disregard that 
 float sign altogether, will it? Or do 'ee calkilate 
 on other sign? This hyar map o' ourn don't tell 
 much." 
 
 "The proper way be to follow the float, jist as I 
 have said. That float will lade as surely as the tracks 
 o' Injun lodge-poles. If you an' the lads '11 be lookin' 
 along for wather an' wood an' such like, I'll kape my 
 eye out for surface indications so we won't be lost 
 entirely, entirely. For I expect I can rade such sign 
 faster than you ; an' it may be you with your two legs 
 an' your hosses can travel wider than can I with my 
 wan leg an' a shtump, an' an ould burro." 
 
 So it was agreed. 
 
 The night had enfolded the mighty mountain and 
 all the little things stream and rocks and trees and 
 human camps dotting it. Dan and Jim and Phil and 
 Chet, Bonita and her pups, and Brownie the com- 
 panionable burro (dozing by the low fire), sought 
 their sleep, each after his (or her) fashion. 
 
 "Jiminy, but that was a big old lion, wasn't it!" 
 murmured Chet, drowsily, when he and Phil had 
 tucked themselves under their prized buffalo robe 
 a gift from Grizzly Dan. 
 
 "He shore was," agreed Phil, broadly. "And those 
 young Injuns were some plucky to go in after him. 
 Now they think they're braves, I reckon." 
 
 "Listen!" prompted Chet. 
 
 High and mournful, on the chill dark rose the 
 long howl of a wolf and another and, another, 
 
94 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 merging. Together they made a weirdly musical 
 chorus. Bonita growled; the pups, hastily wakened, 
 barked confused and silly. 
 
 "Thar they be, the black fellows," quoth old Dan, 
 through the glimmer from the fire. "Wagh! Hear 
 'em, will ye!" 
 
 "The hunting call, isn't it?" asked Phil. "They 
 must be on the trail of something." 
 
 "No, boy; doesn't sound like huntin' call, to me. I 
 'xpec' it air a warnin' 'bout this hyar medicine moun- 
 tain we're goin' to climb. All right, brother," cried 
 old Dan, speaking to the black wolves. "Thank 'ee. 
 We'll tend to our traps an' you tend to yourn, an' 
 don't you cross our trail. Awik kados na-im-a-awah- 
 pu; awik pin-ee-wo-mas." And with this conclusion 
 in some Indian tongue from his extensive knowledge 
 old Dan, grunting, composed as for sleep. 
 
 "What did you tell them, Dan?" invited Phil, too 
 curious to hold back the question. 
 
 "Told 'em we had four pups o' their clan hyar, as 
 hostages; so they'd better keep the peace." 
 
 "Good!" praised Chet, in a drowsy voice. 
 
 Then suddenly pealed through the lonely darkness 
 another wild call. Vibrant and fiercely musical it rang 
 like a trumpet in one piercing note, crescendo, thrice 
 repeated, rousing the whole camp. The darkness 
 echoed with it. 
 
 "Elk!" cried Chet, in the hush that followed. "Big 
 bull elk." 
 
 "Thar he is !" asserted old Dan. "Thar's the medi- 
 cine elk for 'ee! Wagh!" 
 
CHARLEY POW-WOW'S WARNING 95 
 
 "B'jabers!" uttered Flapjack Jim. "Maybe he's 
 lookin' for his horns." 
 
 Phil involuntarily quivered, so intense had been the 
 challenging call, and now so intense was the ensuing 
 silence. But although they listened hard, the call was 
 not repeated. 
 
 "That's shorely a boss elk," pronounced Chet. 
 "He's shut up the wolves." 
 
 And the camp slept. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE BIG KING APPEARS 
 
 AT the breaking of another day they made their 
 preparations to push on up Red Chief to the cross on 
 his high crest. With a sigh of pleasure Phil plumped 
 into the saddle of Pepper; and Chet, plumping like- 
 wise into the saddle of Medicine Eye, supplemented 
 the sigh with a grunt. 
 
 "This is better than walking," observed Phil, as 
 they rode forth together. 
 
 "Wagh ! Don't like walking, me," responded Chet, 
 with combination speech of white Injun and cow- 
 boy. 
 
 They had exchanged pick and spade for rifle again ; 
 and from prospectors became scouts, on their faith- 
 ful mounts of the old Bar B horse herd they had been 
 assigned to locate the next water and camping spot, 
 above. Bonita and her pups accompanied them, but 
 Cotton-tail, bearing the pack, was left to follow in the 
 separate trail of Grizzly Dan, his spotted pony, and 
 Betty the dun mule. As for Flapjack Jim and 
 Brownie, they seemed perfectly capable of making 
 their own way, at their own pace, on their own busi- 
 ness. The signal, at evening, for camp would be a 
 rifle shot or a smoke. 
 
 Riding light, the boys set out. They were to pro- 
 ceed straight up; Flapjack Jim was to take more of 
 
 96 
 
THE BIG KING APPEARS 97 
 
 a middle course, between the present camp and the 
 ridge, for in his opinion (and according to Phil's ex- 
 perience) the float lay in this direction; Grizzly Dan 
 and the pack animals, traveling slower, would skirt 
 the ridge; and if the boys did not find a spring within 
 reasonable distance they were to oblique across and 
 scout the advance there also. 
 
 At methodical pace they rode rifle and car- 
 bine upon saddle-horn, bridle-hands watchful of any 
 stumble, bodies swaying easily to the movements of 
 the horses, eyes on the lookout for "sign." Pepper 
 and Medicine Eye puffed and wheezed, but they were 
 not being forced, and their wheezes meant nothing. 
 
 The climb was only a gradual one, made in a zig- 
 zag as the horses picked their way by the easier 
 courses. The sun flashed his first beams of the day 
 athwart the mountain-side. He revealed brightly the 
 ruddy rocks and gravel, sparse brush, a few stunted 
 cedars, composing the undulating surface of Red 
 Chief. Below, unfolded the wide reaches, dark green 
 with patches of emerald from the quaking asps and 
 of gray from the craggy uplifts, of Lost Park, ex- 
 tending on to slumbering Warrior Peak. Above, 
 waited the white cross and (perhaps) the Frapp 
 Mine. To the right were Flapjack Jim and Brownie 
 his burro, on the float trail, and Grizzly Dan, with 
 the packs, on another scout. Flapjack Jim could just 
 be descried, a toiling speck; but Dan and the animals 
 were out of sight. Presently Jim also was out of 
 sight. The mountain apparently belonged to the two 
 boys. 
 
98 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 As said, the flank was not a continuous slope. 
 Mountains are not built that way at least, not the 
 Rocky Mountains. It was an undulating slope; now 
 ascending, now descending, now on the level, but of 
 course always leading higher, as from step to step. 
 Entering one of those dips that formed a pass from 
 climb to climb, Phil called ba<;k abruptly to Chet: 
 
 "Somebody's been prospecting here, ahead of 
 us!" 
 
 "What do you see?" 
 
 "Holes, is all. Old ones. 5 " 
 
 Chet came on the trot. 
 
 "I should say!" he agreed promptly. "Regular 
 tunnel, too, and a dump." 
 
 Before, the breast of a sharp rise forming another 
 wave in the series of undulations showed a number 
 of excavations one of them with a mouth rather 
 regular in shape and a long pile of dirt under it. 
 
 Halting, the boys listened and surveyed. But there 
 was no sound, there was no movement, and in the 
 soil there was no trail or other sign. 
 
 "She's an old prospect, all right," quoth Chet. 
 "Come on. Let's see." 
 
 And they rode forward. At the dump they halted. 
 
 "It's shore a tunnel. See the timbers? Must go 
 in quite a way," and Chet swung to the ground. 
 "Somebody left a ladder for us, anyhow." 
 
 Dropping the lines over Medicine Eye's head, rifle 
 in hand he trudged briskly around the dump. 
 
 The tunnel entrance was ten feet up, on a level 
 with a small ledge. A rough ladder, of poles and 
 
THE BIG KING APPEARS 99 
 
 stout rounds, leaned from the ground up to the ledge 
 beside the tunnel. But at Chet's confident touch it 
 collapsed, falling with a swish to make only a little 
 pile of splinters. Phil arrived just in time to witness 
 the presto, change and to behold Chet gazing, aston- 
 ished. 
 
 "Plumb busted/' announced Chet, foolishly. "Lucky 
 I wasn't on it." 
 
 "Wonder how long it'd been here, then ?" 
 
 "Kin savvy," responded Chet the cowboy version 
 of "Quien sabe ?" Spanish for "Who knows?" "It 
 was cedar, and cedar lasts forever. Whoever left it 
 was mighty careless. I blamed near broke my neck," 
 and Chet, indignant, wagged his head. 
 
 "Well, reckon the person who left it there didn't 
 look forward to your coming along," laughed Phil. 
 "Let's climb the dump." 
 
 So they did. The dump, in the beginning com- 
 posed of loose dirt and rock, was packed solid by 
 weather another token of age. Almost on hands and 
 knees up they went; Bonita came scrambling after, 
 but the pups, awkward, slipped and sprawled in their 
 efforts. 
 
 Now out of the top of the dump, which formed 
 a platform in front of the tunnel mouth, was grow- 
 ing a thick-trunked cedar. 
 
 "Look at that tree, will yuh !" directed Phil. "That 
 shows how old this prospect is. Must be several hun- 
 dred years. Huh! Guess we aren't jumping any- 
 body's claim. Must be some of those old prospect 
 signs that Charley Pow-wow spoke of." 
 
ioo TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Within the tunnel could be traced rude timber sup- 
 ports hewn logs for the uprights and for the cross- 
 pieces. 
 
 "They cut those timbers around here, and the other 
 trees have grown up since," reasoned Phil. "Cedar, 
 aren't they?" 
 
 "Look so. Mighty big ones. Expect this cedar 
 here on the dump was a seed dropped." 
 
 "Hope the tunnel doesn't fall on us," said Phil, 
 cautiously stepping in. And "Hello! Here's a 
 spade !" he cried. 
 
 So it was : an ancient, cumbersome spade, with long 
 handle that had wasted away to a brittle thread and 
 with heavy, round-edged blade which evidently had 
 been hammered into shape. The metal looked not un- 
 like copper, rather than iron. The spade was leaning 
 against the tunnel wall, where a shadow had partially 
 concealed it. Beside it were the remains of a stubby 
 pick, equally as ancient. 
 
 "Huh! Somebody forgot his tools, all right," ut- 
 tered Chet. "But they're not much good now." 
 
 And they weren't, to the practical eye; but to Phil 
 they appealed as great relics. "Maybe we'll find 
 something else," he said in an undertone, and advanc- 
 ing softly, for he felt like an intruder. 
 
 The gloom of the tunnel increased rapidly; he 
 peered right and left, rather anticipating seeing a sack 
 of gold, or perhaps a mummy, when suddenly the tun- 
 nel closed against him. 
 
 "Here's a cave-in," he reported back. "With an- 
 other ladder leading up somewhere." 
 
THE BIG KING APPEARS 101 
 
 "Shucks!" protested Chet. "Thete might ie a-iqt 
 of good stuff beyond there." ,>,; 
 
 It occurred to Phil that perhaps beyond ihe cavern 
 were some of the miners, who had been cut off. But 
 of course they weren't alive now, after all these years ! 
 Nevertheless, if this was a medicine mountain, who 
 could tell? In spite of the age of those tools, it did 
 seem as though people had just been working here, 
 and had quit for a few hours. 
 
 He and Chet stood surveying the cave-in, and the 
 half -buried foot of the ladder which slanted up 
 through a small hole. 
 
 "Gee, I'd like to get in there," spoke Chet, fear- 
 lessly. "Wish we had candles with us! These must 
 be some old Spanish workings; rich, too, by the size 
 of that dump. Maybe we ought to tell Dan and Jim 
 and bring them in. I'd like to pan samples of that 
 dump. Don't see any vein or pay streak, do you? 
 We're the first in here for a hundred or so years, I 
 reckon. What'll we do? File on it? It's our claim, 
 if we want it." 
 
 "Let's take the shovel and pick, anyway," proposed 
 Phil and even then he was somewhat ashamed, for 
 he imagined that behind the cave-in the owners were 
 listening. But of course they weren't. 
 
 "Aw, that old shovel and pick?" scoffed the prac- 
 tical Chet. "What do you want of those? Wish we 
 could find that vein they were following." 
 
 "It isn't the Frapp Mine, anyhow," said Phil, 
 slowly. "So I suppose we'd better leave it and keep 
 going, or we'll never get anywhere." 
 
102 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Bueno/! approved the ready Chet, brought into the 
 trail again. "We can come and open her up later." 
 *Then "Listen!" he exclaimed. "Hear the pups? 
 Something else, too! Bear!" 
 
 Outside, at the foot of the dump, the pups were 
 yapping wildly; with their yaps mingled a loud snort. 
 Away, for the mouth of the tunnel, darted Bonita; 
 after her pelted the two boys, thumbs on hammers 
 of carbine and rifle. Out into the daylight they burst; 
 growling, Bonita plunged over the edge of the dump, 
 to the support of her children. Halting, and glancing 
 about, the boys instantly saw what was the matter. 
 
 The bench or terrace lying before the ancient work- 
 ings extended like a flat little park sprinkled with low 
 cedars and brush growing from the red surface. At 
 one end it rounded the hill into whose breast the 
 miners of long ago had picked and drilled; the other 
 end narrowed to form a small pass between two low 
 backs sparsely wooded. And here he stood, oc- 
 casionally snorting the largest elk to be imagined! 
 
 "Jiminy !" grasped Chet, and his rifle leaped to his 
 shoulder, his tanned cheek pressed to the stock. 
 
 "Don't, Chet! Don't!" begged Phil, hand neatly 
 covering the rear sight. "Wait ! That's the big king 
 elk, isn't he?" 
 
 "Aw !" muttered Chet, yielding, and lowering his 
 rifle. "He shore is. Guess I won't shoot him, then. 
 Might be bad medicine." 
 
 "It would be a shame to kill him, anyhow," 
 breathed Phil, fascinated. "Whew, what a whopper! 
 Look at those horns!" 
 
THE BIG KING APPEARS 103 
 
 With those tremendous horns, fully a match for 
 the discarded pair picked up by Chet, the great elk 
 stood apparently as high as a giraffe. A lordly crea- 
 ture he was, poised, fronting them, head up, in the 
 little pass. His condition, in this the fall of the year, 
 was at its best; he showed no fear; he stared with 
 round eyes, he pawed, and the breath whistled through 
 his wide nostrils. 
 
 The snorts of the horses answered his, the pups 
 yapped, dashing forth and back again, Bonita growled 
 louder and on a sudden the elk, stretching out his 
 nose, trumpeted his challenge. 
 
 What a blast he blew, ringing shrill and resonant 
 until the whole mountain echoed. To these invaders 
 of his solitudes he seemed to demand, "Who are you, 
 and what do you want?" 
 
 This whistle broke the charm. It set Medicine Eye 
 and Pepper to plunging, it set the pups to dashing 
 more impudently, and it made Bonita charge forward, 
 barking angrily. 
 
 "Here, Bonita! Bonita!" shouted Phil, as the elk 
 lowered head and horns, to repel attack. 
 
 "She'll be killed and those pups too!" exclaimed 
 Chet. "Let's get to the hawsses." 
 
 Down the dump he sprang, sliding and striding; 
 down sprang the anxious Phil. 
 
 "Here, Bonita! Whoa, there, Pepper! Whoa, 
 Medicine Eye!" 
 
 Bonita, half circling the elk, was savagely barking; 
 her pups imitated her; the elk, snorting, guarded with 
 his thicket of horns when, abruptly, at sight of the 
 
104 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 boys sliding down the dump, with quick toss of head 
 he had whirled and was away, out through the little 
 pass. Clamoring and excited, after him trailed, with 
 frantic zeal, the dogs. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE WONDER FOREST 
 
 "BONITA! Bonita! Here!" vainly shrieked Phil. 
 But Chet, with a "Get after 'em! They'll be killed, 
 sure, if that old elk ever turns on 'em!" rushed for 
 the horses. 
 
 Grabbing the lines, into the saddle of Medicine Eye 
 he piled. Phil was scarce a second later. Away they 
 went, on the trail of the chase. They were none too 
 quick. Already the barks and yaps were growing 
 faint and confused, so headlong was the pace of pack 
 and quarry. 
 
 Through the little pass leading off from the an- 
 cient prospect property pelted at top speed the good 
 cow-horses Pepper and Medicine Eye; their riders 
 recklessly urged them on. The country opened out. 
 Chet, just in the advance, and Phil, pressing him 
 close (for Pepper was the faster horse), scanned 
 eagerly before. 
 
 What they saw was a new phase of Red Chief. 
 Ahead, and extending above and below and on either 
 hand, was an enormous basin, broken by red crags, 
 darkened by evergreen timber, and enclosed by 
 broken walls. It was almost like a great crater, or a 
 cave-in, where trees had sprung up. And wild in the 
 extreme it appeared yes, so sudden and unexpected 
 that it might have been an enchantment, with its 
 
 105 
 
io6 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 greens and reds, its lights and shadows, its vastness 
 and its silence. Like a wizard's castle, the distant 
 crest of Red Chief brooded over. 
 
 In this enormous rugged basin the big elk and his 
 pursuers had been swallowed. The boys peered 
 vainly, listened vainly. As Phil's eyes swept the land- 
 scape, they caught a flashing, glittering spot, as if 
 of sun being reflected from factory windows. But 
 there was no time to comment on the fact, for the 
 hoof prints of the elk were fairly plain, and now at 
 a trot so as not to overrun the "sign," Chet and he 
 must follow the trail. 
 
 The pace had been too hot for the pups. Within 
 a short distance the boys overtook Limpy, lying pant- 
 ing and whimpering. He was glad to see them. 
 Farther on they overtook Woof, toiling heavily along, 
 spent but still hopeful. Soon were encountered Rags 
 and Nig, struggling amidst some brush, like stranded 
 fish. 
 
 The four pups fell in behind the horses, and all 
 proceeded. 
 
 "Wheet, wheet, wheet!" whistled the boys, now 
 seeking Bonita herself. Presently, trotting heavily 
 back, sheepish, tongue dangling, tail hanging, fur 
 flopping, she met them. 
 
 "Shame on you!" scolded Phil. 
 
 And she was ashamed. 
 
 Where they had halted, to breathe horses and dogs, 
 they might look out from a brushy knoll, into a wide 
 valley of the green and the red, punctuated by the 
 flashing spot now waxed larger. 
 
THE WONDER FOREST 107 
 
 "What do you suppose that bright place is? See 
 it?" prompted Phil. 
 
 "Sure. I've been noticing it. Sun on rocks, I 
 reckon. May be mica ! Let's go over." 
 
 With Chet to speak was to act, and on he started. 
 
 "Why? Is mica any good?" queried Phil. 
 
 "I should say ! Big sheets are." 
 
 "Wonder where we've got to? We can't climb 
 here as well as we could from camp." 
 
 "Naw," agreed Chet. "This would be a tough 
 proposition. We'll see what that bright spot is, and 
 then we'd better back-track out." 
 
 "Guess that medicine elk's led us into a mess," pro- 
 pounded Phil. "He was pretty smart." 
 
 The big elk had vanished utterly. As they rode 
 along, down a long slope broken by sudden ledges, 
 huge cedars, and matted brush, the only sounds were 
 the hoofs of the two horses, the creak of the saddles, 
 and the panting of the tired, hot dogs; the only living 
 creatures in this .vast wild basin seemed to be them- 
 selves. 
 
 The flashing spot broadened into considerable of 
 an area. 
 
 "That's heap mica," grunted Chet, as now they 
 trotted for it, across the bottom of the valley. 
 
 The spot both widened and deepened. It split into 
 fragments into short pinnacles and dikes and scat- 
 tered blocks, all shining with a brightness that con- 
 stantly scintillated and changed. Even the horses 
 pricked their ears, with interest. 
 
 "Think that's mica?" asked Phil, doubting. 
 
io8 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "No savvy," drawled Chet, evidently also doubting. 
 "This chile isn't saying what it is. More big medi- 
 cine, maybe." 
 
 "Heap big medicine," concurred Phil. 
 
 They were near, and nearer; and sharper became 
 the details of the mystery spot. Chet, eying keenly 
 his square chin set while he blinked and squinted 
 let out an exultant whoop. 
 
 "That's no mica, boy! She's a petrified forest!" 
 he fairly shouted. "Isn't she?" And pricking Medi- 
 cine Eye with the spurs, away he dashed, excited al- 
 most out of his skin. After, dashed Phil on Pepper. 
 Bonita and the pups labored behind. 
 
 The course to the edge of the bright tract was 
 comparatively clear. Crashing through the few 
 bushes they rode pell mell. Reaching the edge of the 
 tract, Chet reined up sharply, and swung high his hat 
 with a cheer. Joining him in an instant, Phil, too, 
 swung hat and cheered. 
 
 "She's petrified, and she's turned all colors be- 
 sides," proclaimed Chet, breathlessly, as he tumbled 
 to earth. 
 
 "Are you going to leave Medicine Eye here?" de- 
 manded Phil. "Better not. 'I'm going to tie Pepper 
 back a way. Leave 'em too close and they're liable 
 to be turned to rock themselves. This is medicine 
 country, remember." 
 
 "That's right," responded Chet, soberly, as he led 
 Medicine Eye farther into the green live brush. 
 
 Awed, they might enter- the magic forest. Here it 
 was, shattered, 'tis true, with only a few stumps up- 
 
THE WONDER FOREST 109 
 
 standing, the others lying prone or criss-cross or 
 shivered into pieces large and small; yet here it was, 
 as Chet had said and as anybody lucky enough to find 
 it might see, a forest changed to rock. And what 
 rock! Not the dull, opaque kind of rock, but rock 
 hard, glassy, shining, and semi-transparent, with all 
 the colors of the rainbow ! 
 
 "Gee!" murmured Chet, subdued, slowly treading 
 his way, step by step, amidst the fascinating debris. 
 "Opal and agate and onyx and every old thing. How 
 are we going to pack it all out?" 
 
 "Aw, you can't pack it out, Chet," protested Phil. 
 "What do you want to pack it out for?" 
 
 "Sell it to jewelers," announced the excited Chet. 
 
 "No; let it stay so folks can see it. There's an- 
 other petrified forest down in Arizona. People be- 
 gan to carry it off and sell it, but the Government 
 stopped 'em." 
 
 "Well, it isn't as good a one as this, all right," 
 boasted Chet. "Fill your pockets, anyhow, for Jim 
 and Dan." 
 
 "We'll bring them over." 
 
 "We shore will Here's a whole tree turned into a 
 moss agate!" 
 
 "I've got one that's all opal. Jimmy, how she 
 changes color!" 
 
 "Here's a big carnelian red and white! Regular 
 stick of candy! Or a barber's pole! Only prettier." 
 
 They wandered on, the dogs following soberly, as 
 if sharing in the wonder. Beneath their boot-heels 
 they crushed bright splinters of clear red, yellow, 
 
no TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 lemon, pink, shimmery green, and blue. On every 
 hand were masses of the same mingled. Opal, onyx, 
 agate, carnelian Phil thought that he recognized 
 them all ; and there were other glassy forms, probably 
 jasper, chalcedony, obsidian. In the bright sunshine 
 they flashed and glittered, constantly changing, like 
 those fairy scenes sometimes put upon the stage. It 
 was a wonder forest, indeed. 
 
 "What do you suppose did it?" remarked Phil. 
 
 "Kin savvy that, either," answered Chet. "Maybe 
 it isn't so. Maybe it's more medicine doin's wagh! 
 This chile thinks he'll fill his pockets and get out, he 
 does, 'fore he's petrified, too." 
 
 "Yes; and whatever we pack out is liable to turn 
 into sticks," claimed Phil. "Same as that nugget 
 turning into iron." 
 
 "Huh !" agreed Chet. And presently he announced, 
 busily poking about: "Here's a sort of a pocket 
 filled with just quartz. I reckon. Funny-looking 
 stuff, worn smooth like buckshot. Red when you look 
 through 'em, some of 'em are." 
 
 "Take a sample," called Phil. "I've got a sample 
 of green quartz." 
 
 "We'll need a pack-hawss, if we take a sample of 
 everything," grumbled Chet. 
 
 Phil's pockets speedily were bulging, and he found 
 himself frequently obliged to discard a specimen for 
 another specimen that seemed of the same kind but 
 better. Laden with these bright and beautiful prisms 
 and crystals and splinters and bits he was, so 
 that he felt himself to be a traveling jewelry 
 
THE WONDER FOREST in 
 
 shop; or Sindbad, the fortunate sailor of the "Ara- 
 bian Nights" ! 
 
 "We're regular Sindbads," he called, struck with 
 the thought, to Chet. 
 
 "No savvy any Sindbads, me," retorted Chet the 
 cowboy. And suddenly becoming Chet the white In- 
 jun exclaimed: "Huh! Listen to that? Old Red 
 Chief's growling at us. Wagh! Better get out o' 
 hyar. Bein' in this place in a thunder storm doesn't 
 shine with this chile." 
 
 "Hi ! That old medicine elk just led us into a trap, 
 didn't he?" uttered Phil, surveying quickly. 
 
 As if in an instant (but of course because just 
 noticed) the whole east had turned black, and now 
 the swiftly rising mass of dense vapor was about to 
 reach the sun. Thunder pealed and rumbled; amidst 
 the mist background swirled and tossed ominous 
 wind-sign, sometimes bellying like the sails of ships; 
 a damp chill swept into the wild basin, so that the 
 silence seemed frightened; Chet's hasty comment 
 sounded well put. 
 
 "Come on!" he said. "Out o' hyar! The moun- 
 tain's gone bad against us!" 
 
 "Lightning won't strike glass; non-conductor," 
 panted Phil, as weighted down with their specimens 
 they lumbered for the horses. 
 
 "No savvy, no savvy!" answered Chet, with his 
 favorite phrase. "Maybe that stuff's not all-samee 
 glass. This chile's not glass, anyhow, and he'd rather 
 take his chances somewhere else wagh !" 
 
 "Wagh!" responded Phil. 
 
ii2 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Pepper and Medicine Eye had ears pricked but 
 whether at the approach of the storm or of their 
 masters, who so strangely rattled and chinked, no one 
 might say. Into the saddle the boys clambered. 
 
 "High ground or low?" queried Phil, briskly, as 
 wheeling they started. 
 
 "Shall we find cover or take it in the open?" re- 
 plied Chet, with counter question. "Get up too 
 high, liable to be struck; down too low, liable to be 
 drowned." 
 
 "Looks like some shelf rock, over there," directed 
 Phil. "Might find cover that way. Better than 
 tree. Tree dangerous." 
 
 "All right," grunted Chet. "Gwan, Medicine Eye! 
 What's the matter with yuh!" 
 
 Away they tore, at hard gallop, crossing diago- 
 nally the bottom of the basin, to seek shelter in a 
 rugged ridge area that promised shelf rock. Behind 
 them they left the wonder forest, its sparkle already 
 dulled, as if its magic were fading. The sun had dis- 
 appeared in the rolling vapors; the wild, silent basin 
 lay somber. 
 
 "Don't believe we'll make it," hazarded Chet, as 
 recklessly they plunged through brush and through 
 open, Bonita and her pups trailing in their rear. 
 
 "Liable to get wet, if we don't," answered Phil, 
 grimly. 
 
 The basin was wide ; it stretched interminable, 
 while the rocks lured them, before, and the storm 
 pursued far faster than they rode. 
 
 "Whoopee!" cheered Chet and Medicine Eye 
 
THE WONDER FOREST 113 
 
 leaped to the cow-puncher yelp. "What do we care? 
 We've been wet before, plenty." 
 
 "We shore have," shouted Phil, mindful of cow 
 range and sheep range and moccasin trail, out of Bar 
 B and Circle K and white Injun days. "You're los- 
 ing your specimens!" he added quickly, with the 
 corner of his eye noting that at the jolt of saddle 
 Chet's pockets were dripping pebbles. "And so am 
 I. Shucks!" 
 
 "Aw, jiminy!" bemoaned Chet, clapping hand to 
 his treasure-stores. "Reckon I've lost over half, 
 already. Feels like it." 
 
 "Well, can't pick 'em up now," and Phil also rue- 
 fully investigated. "We'll have to come back again." 
 
 The storm caught them. Glancing over their 
 shoulders as they raced so madly, they saw it sweep- 
 ing along in their very wake; its myriad long fin- 
 gers had seized the wonder forest, and apparently 
 wiped it away. The wizard of Red Chief was now 
 reaching out for them. 
 
 "There she is," gasped Chet, as with quick patter 
 the first of the skirmish drops fell about them. 
 
 Uttering furious threats, roaring and booming and 
 rattling, the storm enveloped them. 
 
 "Wow!" laughed Phil, hunching under the re- 
 peated gusts. 
 
 But the shelf rocks were close before. 
 
 "I see a good one," announced Chet. "Over to 
 the left." 
 
 They veered. Just as the countless spears of the 
 main rain arrived on the run, the fleeing little party, 
 
1 1.4 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 streaming with wet, gained refuge. A wall of red- 
 dish rock had been hollowed out, straight back, at 
 the foot forming a portico, with projecting eaves and 
 a flat ceiling. The space was large enough for any- 
 body to sit in comfortably. Dismounting without 
 ceremony, flinging lines to ground, their guns in their 
 hands the boys dived for the shelter. 
 
 Bonita and her soaked pups crowded in, and of 
 course shook themselves. But Pepper and Medicine 
 Eye must stand outside and take what came. 
 
 They did not like it. With head and tail down 
 they stood, cringing. The rain was so thick that they 
 could scarcely be seen, save as vague, unhappy shapes. 
 The sound of the drops was a continuous drone. The 
 thunder bellowed, the lightning flared, and there were 
 sharp, deafening reports like the bursting of shells. 
 
 "Regular cloud-burst," asserted Chet. 
 
 "This shore is a medicine mountain, all right," de- 
 clared Phil. "Wonder what next? We got in here 
 just in time." 
 
 The world outside appeared to be water. The 
 horses shook their heads impatiently, and the inces- 
 sant thunder and lightning were making them restive. 
 Suddenly both the boys exclaimed : "Hail !" 
 
 And hail it was. The large spears of rain changed 
 to frozen bullets; yes, bullets the size of bullets and 
 as hard as bullets, volleyed from ten thousand re- 
 peaters. These bullets landed wickedly : spatting into 
 the pools of water, smacking against the rocks, and 
 thudding upon the luckless horses, bounding from 
 their saddles and from their wet hides. This was 
 
THE WONDER FOREST 115 
 
 almost more than horse should stand. Pepper and 
 Medicine Eye flinched and jerked, tossed their heads, 
 snorted, moved forward and back. 
 
 "Steady, there! Whoa, Medicine Eye! Whoa, 
 Pepper !" besought the boys, helpless to remedy mat- 
 ters. 
 
 Chet scurried out, to grasp the lines but back he 
 crawled, in a jiffy. 
 
 "Stings right through your gloves!" he panted. 
 "Say, but it must hurt their ears !" 
 
 "Think they'll " and Phil was intending to 
 
 finish with the words "stick it out," when he was 
 interrupted by a new crisis. Abruptly pealed a tre- 
 mendous burst of thunder, the hail was succeeded by 
 another furious onslaught of the thick rain, and 
 from across the basin rolled a strange, sullen, rever- 
 berating growl, well calculated to spread a shiver. 
 
 Bonita and her whimpering pups began to howl; 
 and the horses, with one alarmed snort, plunging 
 wildly, bolted. They had had enough. Heads and 
 tails high, lines swaying, away they went at a gallop. 
 
 "Whoa! Pepper! Medicine Eye! Hi! Whoa!" 
 yelled the boys, rushing bravely out, careless of the 
 downpour. But the frantic animals paid no heed to 
 the commands. 
 
 "Aw, shucks!" complained Chet. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 
 
 "WHAT do suppose that funny noise was? Heard 
 it, didn't you?" asked Phil, as they stood for a 
 minute, helplessly staring. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Just before the horses ran. Sort of a rumble and 
 growl; shook the ground. Guess that was what 
 scared them." 
 
 "Yes, I heard it. Don't know. More medicine, I 
 reckon. May have been the big elk again. He shore 
 led us into a nice fix." 
 
 "He shore did," concurred Phil. "Charley warned 
 us we'd better not fool with this mountain, remem- 
 ber." 
 
 "Aw, that's just Injun talk," retorted Chet, stub- 
 bornly. "Those Utes don't want anybody hunting on 
 Red Chief, or anywhere else in Lost Park. But 
 come on; we've got to catch those hawsses." 
 
 "It's quitting raining. Good!" exclaimed Phil, as 
 they took one last preliminary survey. 
 
 That was true. The pour had slackened to a 
 drizzle, and by token of a rapidly brightening hori- 
 zon the drizzle also was limited. Somewhat cheered, 
 with a whistle to the reluctant Bonita and family they 
 trudged away upon the trail of the fugitive horses. 
 
 116 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 117 
 
 Where imprinted in the softened soil the trail at 
 first was not difficult to follow. But in gravel and 
 on sod and rock it suffered by the rain; and soon the 
 tracks in the soil itself had been badly washed. 
 
 Sloshing along, wet by the brush and by the lessen- 
 ing drizzle, with Bonita and her four pups dejectedly 
 stringing out behind, the two boys, now reading 
 "sign/' now scanning the country before and on 
 either hand, stolidly proceeded. 
 
 "Look !" cried Phil, pointing. 
 
 The edge of the late storm had passed on over 
 them, so that the sun was reflected out, upon the high 
 regions. Now was revealed old Red Chief arrayed 
 from shoulders to waist in dazzling white. Clouds 
 clung about his head, hiding it; but from cloud line 
 down to a level just above that of the boys he was 
 covered all with snow, shining in the sunlight. 
 
 As they gazed across the basin, at his mighty slope 
 continuing on to his cloud-draped crest, the spectacle 
 was superb. 
 
 "I'd like to have a picture of that," breathed Phil. 
 
 "I'd like to have a picture of those hawsses," com- 
 plained Chet. "They've stampeded clear out of the 
 country. Don't like this walking, me." 
 
 "Same here," responded Phil. 
 
 And sooth to say, in his heavy clothes, weighted 
 with the wonder- forest specimens, his cartridges and 
 carbine, he spoke as he felt. 
 
 The trail left by the recreant Pepper and Medicine 
 Eye was growing worse and worse. They had gone 
 tearing blindly along the low ridge which contained 
 
n8 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 the shelf-rock formation; gradually they had climbed 
 it, and so the course brought the pursuit out on top. 
 As panting and perspiring Chet and Phil (Bonita and 
 family still plodding patiently behind) toiled up, the 
 sun burst forth gloriously. 
 
 He was warm and cheery, and made a great differ- 
 ence, for immediately the world began to dry. 
 
 "There's a smoke!" exclaimed Phil, at once. 
 
 But Chet uttered as quickly; "There are the haws- 
 ses!" 
 
 The course of the low ridge had been in a curve, so 
 that, by puzzling method, it had brought the shining 
 slope of main Red Chief directly before them. To- 
 ward him fell away the end of the ridge. The won- 
 der forest lay to the left, as it seemed to Phil, while 
 on the right or this other side of the ridge, opened a 
 new section of the basin. 
 
 In this, beyond the foot of the ridge, were the 
 smoke and the horses. The ground was almost level, 
 forming another shallow valley studded with a few 
 rocks and cedars. The smoke evidently rose from a 
 camp located among some cedars. Between the foot 
 of the ridge and the smoke meandered Pepper and 
 Medicine Eye. Yes, it was they. At mingled trot 
 and walk they proceeded, holding their heads high 
 and turned one side so that the dragging bridle reins 
 would not be under their hoofs. Canny cow-horses 
 were Pepper and Medicine Eye. 
 
 The camp-fire attracted them. They acted as if re- 
 connoitering it. It attracted them and yet they were 
 suspicious, too. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 119 
 
 "Aw, shucks!" uttered Chet, now excited. "If 
 those campers are any good at all, we can catch those 
 hawsses. Come on." 
 
 "Hope they know enough to head 'em off," added 
 Phil, as down from the ridge plunged Chet and he. 
 
 About the camp-fire were moving three figures. It 
 was to be seen that they were not the three Indians, 
 or the Black Man and his two friends; they were 
 still another trio; but whoever they were, upon 
 them rested the burden of heading off the runaway 
 horses. 
 
 Loudly whoo-eed Chet, loudly whoo-eed Phil, wav- 
 ing. The campers heard, and looked, and saw Pep- 
 per and Medicine Eye making skittish way, circum- 
 venting the fire. Out ran the three campers, holding 
 wide their arms and yelling "Whoa!" as if in a city 
 street, to halt the horses. 
 
 "Hey! Quit it! Let 'em go!" warned the boys, 
 sharply; and 
 
 "Aw, jiminy! The big fools!" deplored Chet, 
 slackening his pace. 
 
 For Pepper and Medicine Eye, thus aroused again 
 to action, easily enough had galloped past campers 
 and camp, and with stirrups dancing, bridle reins fly- 
 ing, tail and mane streaming, were thudding away at 
 full speed, crossing the valley and entering some tim- 
 ber at the other edge. 
 
 "Well, they're bound out of the country this time, 
 sure," declared Phil, hopelessly. "That was a re- 
 gular tenderfoot trick! Who are those people, any- 
 way?" 
 
120 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "We'll go on in and see," growled Chet, striding 
 off. "That was no way to catch a hawss." 
 
 On they marched for the camp. The three 
 campers, after gazing to watch the horses careering 
 off, were trudging in to the fire. Phil and Chet drew 
 near. 
 
 "What's the matter with yuh?" scolded Chet. 
 "Don't you know how to catch a hawss? That was 
 no way to catch a hawss." 
 
 "What did you want us to do*? We did the best 
 we could," retorted one of the three. 
 
 They were young fellows, dressed in costumes alike 
 of straight-brimmed sombreros, blue flannel shirts, 
 corduroy trousers, and laced mountain-boots. Grazing 
 back among the cedars were a couple of burros. A 
 tarpaulin covered bedding from the wet. Camp uten- 
 sils were lying about, or hanging in the cedars. 
 
 "You can't catch a hawss by yelling at him, and 
 running for him afoot," instructed Chet. "That's no 
 way. Those hawsses are gone for keeps, now. They 
 never will stop." 
 
 "Well, we did the best we could," repeated the 
 young fellow. "We were trying to help you. They 
 weren't our horses." He was the elder of the trio, 
 a smooth-faced, dark-eyed, good-looking youth, with 
 wide, square shoulders. 
 
 "You see, the only way is to work easy with 
 horses, in a case like that," put in Phil, more politely, 
 to make amends for Chet's brusqueness. The three 
 young fellows appeared to be clean, gentlemanly 
 chaps. "Just speak to them, gently, and approach 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 121 
 
 them by degrees, and don't do anything sudden, and 
 chances are you'll get close enough to put a rope on 
 them." 
 
 "We're sorry/' said the spokesman, candidly. 
 "We'll help you chase them up, if you want us to." 
 
 "Naw," grunted Chet, smoothing his ruffled bris- 
 tles. "They're on the move again. Might as well 
 wait till they've settled down to grazing, or are hung 
 up in the brush somewhere." 
 
 "How'd they gt away?" asked another of the 
 three. He was freckled and red-headed and as 
 stocky as Chet. 
 
 "Storm stampeded them. Too much hail and 
 racket." 
 
 "Hard luck. What are you doing hunting?" 
 
 "Yes; hunting and prospecting," professed Chet, 
 carelessly. 
 
 "Great pups, aren't they!" praised the third of the 
 trio. He was a blue-eyed, curly-brown-haired, merry- 
 faced individual, not much older than Chet or Phil. 
 The pups had ventured into his lap, as now he lolled 
 by the fire, and Bonita was sniffing him in friendly 
 fashion all of which spoke much in his favor. 
 
 "Half wolf," informed Phil. "They were born in 
 the Park here." 
 
 "You don't say so!" ejaculated the three campers, 
 interested. "Timber wolf?" 
 
 "No. Black." 
 
 "Must be that same pack we heard howling last 
 night," asserted the red-headed youth. 
 
 "Yes," agreed the older youth he with the dark 
 
122 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 eyes, who seemed to be leader. "Did you hear them? 
 And did you hear the elk, too?" he queried, of Chet 
 and Phil. 
 
 "We shore did," replied Chet. "And we've seen 
 'em. Saw the elk this morning." 
 
 "Chet's got his last year's horns," added Phil. 
 "Picked them up where they'd been cast." 
 
 "Big ones?" 
 
 "Stand as high as I do." 
 
 "Cracky! He must be a corking big elk, then." 
 
 "He is," affirmed Chet. "Biggest there is." 
 
 "Think you'll get him? Did you shoot at him?" 
 
 "No. We aren't trying to get him. He's a medi- 
 cine elk." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "Oh, he's magic. That's what the Indians say. 
 He's not a real elk; he's just an elk shape, roaming 
 around over this mountain. It would be bad luck to 
 shoot him. He's led us into a hole already." 
 
 The trio hooted. They thought this a great joke. 
 
 "Go tell that to the marines," they jeered. "We 
 may be green at catching runaway horses when they 
 have a whole county to dodge in, but we're past the 
 age of fairy stories." 
 
 "Well, that's so; isn't it?" appealed Chet to Phil. 
 
 Phil nodded. 
 
 "It shore is," he supported broadly. "This is all 
 medicine country." And then he thought best to in- 
 ject hard sense by explaining, off-hand : "He's a king 
 in here, anyhow, and nobody ought to kill him. He 
 ought to be left alive. We won't shoot him." 
 
 The spokesman of the trio nodded. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 123 
 
 "That's right/' he said. "Let him live. It always 
 seems queer to me that whenever anybody discovers 
 a wild animal or something else especially big or un- 
 usual or the last of its kind, folks itch to destroy it 
 or carry it off." 
 
 "Speaking of loose horses and loose elk," broke in 
 the curly-headed stripling, "haven't seen any loose 
 men wandering about, have you?" 
 
 "No," answered Chet. "Lost some?" 
 
 "Rather suspect so. Can't tell." 
 
 "Oh, they'll come in," asserted the red-head. 
 " Tisn't time yet." 
 
 "We're a school-of-mines bunch," vouchsafed the 
 spokesman youth, to Chet and Phil. "Out on a little 
 trip doing field work. Our professor's got the rest 
 of the gang, somewhere. When that storm came up 
 we hiked in to camp. Sit down and dry off. We'll 
 have chuck pretty soon." 
 
 The word "chuck" sounded good; from a coffee- 
 pot on the fire rose an inviting aroma. 
 
 "Well," murmured Chet, "much obliged!" 
 
 "Sure," affirmed Phil. 
 
 And they yielded. With the three school-of-mines 
 fellows they formed a friendly group about the fire. 
 Bonita and her pups, all tired, sought snug spots in 
 the sunshine and there curled to sleep. 
 
 "Ouch!" grumbled Phil, by a sharp point digging 
 into him suddenly reminded that his pockets still con- 
 tained samples of the wonder forest. He twisted 
 himself lazily and rummaging for the offending piece 
 fished it out. 
 
 r As he examined it, in casual mariner befitting an 
 
124 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 experienced prospector, it caught the eye of the curly- 
 headed youth. He interrupted the conversation to 
 ask politely, "Specimen?" 
 
 "Yes. Something I picked up." 
 
 "Looks like yellow quartz." 
 
 "Kind of pretty stuff," said Phil, carelessly. He 
 passed it over, for the curly-headed youth seemed in- 
 terested. 
 
 "No, that's not quartz," pronounced the curly-head, 
 scrutinizing it. "It hasn't the cleavage." He 
 scratched at it, and bit it. " 'Tisn't hard enough." 
 
 "Topaz," hazarded the red-headed youth, sliding 
 to look. 
 
 "What is it, Dick?" queried the curly-head, hand- 
 ing the piece to the older youth. "We unload every- 
 thing on Dick," he explained. "He's a senior; Fat 
 and I are only sophs." 
 
 "Topaz your grandmother!" scoffed Dick, with 
 scant ceremony. "You make your uncle laugh. I'd 
 like to send you out collecting topaz! It might be 
 false topaz, for that's nothing but a yellow quartz. 
 Then you'd both be right which you aren't. No; 
 for a scientific guess and the Prof says that there's 
 no such thing as a scientific guess I name it amber. 
 Feels like amber has a sort of celluloid feel. Wait 
 till I rub it," And "Sure it's amber !" he exclaimed. 
 "See the electricity in it?" 
 
 "You can't see electricity, you goat," interrupted 
 the curly-head. 
 
 "Well, see how it picks things up, after I rub it?" 
 pursued Dick, unabashed, and rubbing the fragment 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 125 
 
 on his sleeve. "It would blaze up, too, if I put it in 
 the fire." 
 
 "Chuck her in, chuck her in," urged Fat, the red- 
 head, sarcastically. "It isn't your property, and may 
 be worth money; but chuck her in, for science' sake." 
 
 "It's got a conchoidal fracture ; that is, it breaks or 
 chips in a curve that has a little tip or peak in the 
 middle, shape of a conch shell. Smells nice, rather. 
 It's amber, all right. A peach of a specimen, too. 
 Where'd you find it?" 
 
 Chet had been staring, with eyes popped, at the de- 
 cisive analysis bestowed upon the bit of clear yellow 
 rock; and "conchoidal fracture" made even Phil, of 
 city school education, mentally gasp. Beyond doubt 
 accurate prospecting for minerals involved consider- 
 able study. 
 
 "A mile or so over from the other side of this little 
 ridge," he answered. "Is it worth anything?" 
 
 "What? Amber? Well, I should say so. But I 
 never heard before of any being found in this coun- 
 try. Not throughout the mountains, I mean." 
 
 "Aw, here's everything over there; isn't there, 
 Phil?" 1 urted Chet. "A whole petrified forest, all 
 colors. We got our pockets full." And he began to 
 disgorge, for inspection. 
 
 "Had 'em full, when we started; but we lost a lot, 
 riding to beat the storm," added Phil, also disgorging. 
 
 The three school-of -mines fellows gathered close, 
 to examine and comment. 
 
 "Jiminy Christmas! Look at the opal chips!" 
 ejaculated the curly-head. 
 
126 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Yes; but they're no good," retorted Fat 
 "They're just fragments. Here's some of your yel- 
 low quartz, though false topaz." 
 
 "Big chunk of moss agate," muttered Dick. "Some 
 of that yellow quartz is chalcedony, my child. More 
 chalcedony; every color. Say, this is great stuff! 
 Agate carnelian; black and white onyx. Wait a 
 minute, now !" 
 
 "What's this? Smoky topaz?" demanded Fat. 
 
 "That? No. You've got topaz on the brain. That's 
 obsidian volcanic glass. See the conchoidal fracture, 
 again? Wait a minute, I say," and thus speaking im- 
 patiently Dick was intent upon a beautiful dull-green 
 fragment which Phil had produced from his hoard. 
 "That's a turquoise matrix," pronounced Dick. "A 
 turquoise was formed in this, but it's imperfect." 
 
 "Shucks !" uttered Phil, disappointed. "That's the 
 only piece I have. Remember when I picked it up, 
 Chet? I called it quartz." 
 
 "That was when I was picking up those buckshot 
 quartzes," announced Chet. "Regular nest of 'em. 
 Here's one. Of course I went and put 'em in a pocket 
 with a hole in it, so they could leak out. But I don't 
 suppose it matters." 
 
 "That looks like garnet," said Dick, squinting 
 through it, against the sun. "Either garnet or ruby. 
 If it's ruby, it's worth considerable though it may 
 not be a high grade." Chet, his tanned round face 
 growing purple with excitement, watched him breath- 
 lessly. "Only way to find out is to heat it. If I had 
 proper scales I could weigh it in air and in water and 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 127 
 
 get its specific gravity. That's the weight of anything, 
 as compared with the same bulk of water. Divide the 
 weight in air by the difference when weighed in water 
 see? All minerals have an established specific 
 gravity. But I can heat this specimen, if you say so. 
 If it's ruby, it won't be hurt and will keep its color; 
 if it's only garnet, the heat will take the color out of 
 it. Savvy ?" 
 
 Assuredly this businesslike Dick knew considerable 
 about the makeup of minerals. He went at things 
 from a scientific basis. 
 
 "Go ahead and heat her up," bade Chet, bravely. 
 "If it's a garnet, I don't want it. Diamonds and 
 rubies are all I wear." 
 
 "Boil her in the coffee-pot," suggested Fat. "There 
 was an old Roman who dissolved a $40,000 pearl in 
 vinegar and drank it." 
 
 The smoothish, roundish pebble was the size of a 
 small French pea, and looked not unlike a worn bit 
 of dull rusty-red quartz. But when held to the light, 
 it was shot through with a rich crimson glow. Hav- 
 ing been given Chet's lordly permission, Dick promptly 
 placed the pebble in a tin spoon, and the spoon upon 
 some coals. 
 
 "Suppose we'll crack it if we don't manage to bring 
 it up gradually," he muttered. "But here goes." 
 
 "What's one ruby to me?" bragged Chet. "There's 
 a wagon-load of 'em over there, I reckon." 
 
 At this announcement the party gasped. 
 
 The pebble had been well heated ; at least, the spoon 
 was apparently at red-hot temperature, as Dick 
 
128 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 speedily found out when he would draw it out. He 
 handled it gingerly, by fits and starts; and plucking 
 the pebble from the bowl, with a pair of small 
 tweezers, he held it to the light. 
 
 Every head thrust forward to peer also. The mo- 
 ment was tense with excitement. 
 
 "She's just the same. Here see?" and Dick held 
 the pebble for Chet. "Same rich color." 
 
 "Think it's a ruby?" asked Chet, unsteadily. 
 
 "Why, as far as I can tell. Of course, I'm not an 
 expert. If the Prof was here he'd know. It may 
 be what they call an Arizona ruby, which is only a 
 variety of garnet." 
 
 "What's it worth, if it's a real ruby?" pursued 
 Chet, huskily. 
 
 "Can't say. But a ruby without a flaw is valued 
 more than a diamond of the same size. This one 
 looks as if it might have a crack in it." Dick squinted 
 earnestly again, and so did all Chet fairly tying his 
 round face into a cross-stitch pattern. "Got any 
 more?" 
 
 "Couple, is all," said Chet, mournfully, searching 
 well through his stock of specimens. "But we can go 
 over and get some. Come on." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Over to our petrified forest, where all this stuff is. 
 Tisn't far." 
 
 "By cracky, I'd like to see that place," cried Dick, 
 springing up. 
 
 "Who wants coffee before we go?" invited 
 Fat. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 129 
 
 'To the dump heap with the coffee !" retorted Dick. 
 "Set it to one side/' 
 
 "Stay and drink it yourself, Fat/' advised the cur- 
 ly-head. 
 
 Fat did delay long enough hastily to swallow a 
 half-cup of the steaming fluid; the gulps turned him 
 as red as a boiled lobster, so hot were they. Then he 
 came running after. 
 
 As for the rest, coffee meant a waste of precious 
 time, when that wonder forest was waiting before. 
 
 "How big is a mineral claim? How much can one 
 man stake off?" demanded Chet, as all hurried along, 
 rounding the low ridge, to cross the next shallow val- 
 ley for the wonder forest. 
 
 "Depends on what kind of claim it is," answered 
 Dick. "Lode or placer." 
 
 "What would you call that petrified forest?" que- 
 ried Phil. 
 
 "Why why, blamed if I know. If it's placer, 
 each man is allowed twenty acres. If it's a vein or 
 lode, he's allowed fifteen hundred feet long and six 
 hundred feet wide." 
 
 "Gee ! Guess we claim a placer and make it twenty 
 acres apiece," chuckled Chet. 
 
 "The Professor'd know," quoth the curly-head 
 (whose name, as it turned out, was "Jinks"). "He's 
 a wise old boy." 
 
 "Reckon I'll have a saddle and bridle studded with 
 rubies," asserted Chet. "Won't you, Phil?" 
 
 "Shore; or trade some off for diamonds." 
 
 "Where is your forest?" asked Dick. 
 
130 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Right across. Ought to see it shining, if the sun 
 was right. That's what led us to it a shining spot. 
 Thought it was mica." 
 
 However, no shine now betrayed the existence of 
 the wonder forest. The foot of the slope where it 
 should be, lay waiting reddish and dull. 
 
 With eyes keen-set and pulses high, breath short, 
 the little party pressed on, Chet and Phil guiding. 
 They were near enough now so that it seemed to 
 Phil they should be catching glint or sparkle. He 
 heard Chet grunting bewilderment. And then he 
 himself suddenly cried: 
 
 "Something's happened, boys! The whole place is 
 changed! It is! I don't believe the forest's there 
 any more." 
 
 "Sure you're heading right?" panted Fat. 
 
 "Yes, of course. You can't miss a place like that. 
 But it isn't there, I tell you," replied Phil, irritated. 
 
 "It shore isn't," murmured Chet, staHng hard and 
 slackening pace. "The whole side of the mountain's 
 fallen on it." 
 
 "Landslide, then; landslide!" exclaimed Dick. 
 "Didn't you hear it? We did. Just before the 
 storm quit. Didn't know what it was." 
 
 "Aw, shucks ! That was what scared our hawsses," 
 grumbled Chet, aghast. "And it's covered our rubies 
 and agates and everything. Talk about medicine! 
 This mountain's the plumb limit." 
 
 "Yes, sir," agreed Phil, equally perturbed; "that 
 big elk tolled us in here, just far enough to show us 
 things, then he lit out and the sky fell on us and the 
 
THE MOUNTAIN PLAYS A TRICK 131 
 
 mountain fell on our claims and we've lost our horses 
 and most of our specimens; and like as not Chet's 
 rubies'll turn out to be glass." 
 
 "Where was your forest?" demanded Dick. 
 
 "Right here; right here, in a hollow or sort of a 
 dip in this bench," stated Chet, dolefully. "Can't see 
 a sign of it now, though. Wouldn't that kill yuh! 
 Can't see even the dip." 
 
 He spoke truly. Where the wonder forest had 
 shimmered, lining the hollow as a cup is lined with 
 pearl, now was only a roughly level incline forming a 
 continuous slope to the bottom of the valley. By 
 token of great rocks askew and fresh earth upturned 
 and pushed along, a slide had this been. How far on 
 right and left it extended no one could tell; but it 
 had covered completely every trace of the marvelous 
 petrified forest. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 
 
 "WELL," drawled Chet, "I've got a ruby-studded 
 saddle and bridle in there somewhere." This was 
 just like the practical, matter-of-fact Chet. 
 
 "Pshaw !" complained Phil. "Don't suppose there's 
 any use in digging. Wish we'd known a little more 
 about prospecting; then we might have picked the 
 valuable stuff, while we were in there." 
 
 "Yes, if we'd known about those con con what- 
 you-call-it curves, and things," grumbled Chet. "We 
 haven't sense enough to go prospecting." 
 
 "Hard luck, old man," proffered Jinks the curly- 
 head. "But you might have been in there yet, you 
 know, with a few tons of earth on top of you and a 
 conchoidal fracture of your spinal column!" 
 
 "That's right," admitted Chet, wagging his head 
 solemnly. 
 
 "The professor'll want to hear about this," asserted 
 Dick. 
 
 "Those look like some of the gang now," directed 
 Jinks, pointing. 
 
 Down the side of the mountain, where the little 
 valley headed into it, were hastening four figures. 
 
 "They're making for camp," said Dick. "Yell at 
 'em. We'll go back together. Better come along," he 
 added to Chet and Phil, who were poking about, with 
 
 132 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 133 
 
 not the slightest result from their efforts to uncover 
 the buried forest. "You can't do anything that way. 
 Come over to camp and have chuck. You'll locate this 
 as a placer claim, I guess, and use hydraulic method, 
 if you can get the water." 
 
 "What's that?" asked Chet, as they all hurried 
 away. 
 
 "Turn a big hose on it and wash it out into screens 
 and sluice boxes. You could use graduated screens, 
 see? Begin with coarse and run down to very fine, 
 and sort the stuff caught by each. There may be a 
 way of catching the rubies by sluice-box riffles. I'll 
 look this up. The Professor'll know. Down in the 
 South Africa diamond fields they catch the diamonds 
 with grease. The diamonds stick to grease and the 
 ordinary stones slide on over." 
 
 "Where'd we get the water for the hose, though?" 
 queried Phil. 
 
 "Lead it in by a flume, with a big drop so as to give 
 pressure at the nozzle." 
 
 "Sure. We could bring it down from the top of the 
 mountain," said Chet. "That would make drop 
 enough." 
 
 . . "Could make a reservoir of the snow water," pro- 
 posed Phil. "Unless there's a lake." 
 
 "Dam a creek," advised Dick. "You can find 
 water, I guess, but you might have to build several 
 miles of flume." 
 
 In Phil's eyes the operations already were in full 
 career. The nozzle-stream was tearing away the land- 
 slide, and washing it through great screens ; from these 
 
134 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 screens were being shoveled, by many laborers, wagon 
 loads of agate and carnelian and onyx and amber, in 
 large chunks; while lower, toward the end of the im- 
 mense chute, rubies and emeralds and turquoise were 
 being scooped out and sacked. And he and Chet and 
 their families and friends were so prosperous that 
 really they scarcely knew what to do with their money. 
 
 He did not consider the surveying of the claim, and 
 the procuring of material, and the building of the 
 flume and sluice, and the hiring of labor, and the 
 erection of buildings, and the transportation in and 
 out, and the thousand matters large and small that 
 enter into mining of any description. 
 
 By his flushed face and excited puffing Chet also 
 was having visions. 
 
 As they hastened, Dick and Fat and Jinks were 
 shouting lustily, to attract the attention of those four 
 other figures. Phil and Chet joined in. The united 
 chorus pealed through the thin air. Soon the four 
 figures heard, saw, and waved response; and the two 
 parties converged upon one another. 
 
 "Don't see the Prof," remarked Fat. 
 
 "He and the rest of them may be in camp." 
 
 "Gee whizz, but I'm hungry," announced Jinks. 
 
 The four figures proved to be those of more school- 
 of-mines students like Dick, Fat, and Jinks, and 
 wearing a similar outfit, sombrero, blue shirt, cor- 
 duroys, and laced boots. The two parties came 
 rapidly together. They made a clean-cut, fresh-com- 
 plexioned, enthusiastic set. Phil felt much attracted 
 by them. 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 135 
 
 Greetings were heartily exchanged. 
 
 "Where've you been?" This from the four. 
 
 "Over here looking at something. Where's the 
 Prof?" 
 
 "With the rest of the bunch, I guess. Did you get 
 wet?" 
 
 "No. We just dodged around between the 
 drops!" 
 
 "We got under a tree, but the tree leaked." The 
 four frankly eyed Chet and Phil, and accepted them 
 without questions. "Where's camp? Dinner ready?" 
 
 "Will be, mighty soon. Want to wait for the Prof 
 and the other fellows?" 
 
 A chorus welled high: 
 
 "Not on your life!" 
 
 "No ! We're starved." 
 
 "They can get their own chuck when they come in." 
 
 "We can keep some coffee for them. That's 
 enough." 
 
 "Did it snow down here?" asked one. 
 
 "Just rained and hailed." 
 
 "Snowed up where we were. Snowed and thun- 
 dered at the same time." 
 
 "Had a big landslide over yonder," said Fat. 
 "We've been looking at it. Covered up a petrified 
 forest for these two lads. Regular jewelry store." 
 
 "That's what made us late. We had to go around 
 it. Biggest slide we ever saw. Forest? Real petrified 
 forest?" 
 
 "Sure was. Ruby deposit, besides. These two lads 
 will show you samples, if you don't believe me." 
 
136 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 So chatting and exchanging news they all made way 
 to camp. 
 
 The camp in sight was vacant of any human oc- 
 cupants; therefore the remainder of the school-of- 
 mines party had not arrived. Only the burros were 
 waiting. Chet and Phil strained their eyes, hoping to 
 sight the truant Pepper and Medicine Eye, but they 
 were unrewarded for their hopes. 
 
 During dinner great fortunes were built upon the 
 foundation of the buried forest. Dick was engaged 
 as engineer, with Fat and Jinks as his assistants. Bob 
 (another senior) was to be superintendent or man- 
 ager. A place was found for everybody on shares, 
 of course; while the part of Chet and Phil seemed 
 chiefly to be the disposing of a large income ! By the 
 time that the final cup of hot coffee had been stowed 
 away, the flume had been laid, the sluices built, the 
 hydraulic nozzle trained, the earth torn apart, and 
 steady loads of gems and jewel-like minerals were 
 pouring into the eager market. The workings were 
 christened the Medicine Elk Mines ! 
 
 Phil glowed all through as he pictured how sur- 
 prised his father and mother would be, and how they 
 would live in luxury for the rest of their days. So, 
 according to Chet, should his father, the rugged 
 plainsman and cow-man, Mr. Simms and that other 
 veteran, old Jess of the Texas Trail, the Bar B fore- 
 man. As for themselves, they would of course buy 
 a large ranch, stock it well and run it as a pleasant 
 side issue. 
 
 Now the school-of-mines boys were beginning to 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 137 
 
 grow uneasy about the missing members of their 
 party, who ought to be coming in. Chet and Phil 
 also were uneasy, because they had work to do. 
 
 "Expect we ought to be staking out that claim," 
 said Chet, bluntly. "And finding those hawsses be- 
 fore they're plumb lost and the saddles stick fast to 
 
 'em." 
 
 "If you'll wait till the Prof rolls in, we'll help you," 
 offered Dick. "We aren't very strong on catching 
 loose horses, but we ought to know how to tackle a 
 mining proposition. The Prof sure does, anyway. 
 He's wise on all those stunts. You might as well go 
 at this thing right, and save trouble. See?" 
 
 "It looks simple, but you want to cover all the 
 ground you can, to the best advantage," explained the 
 other senior, who was Bob. * "You've got a valuable 
 property over there." 
 
 "We've got to find those hawsses, though," repeated 
 Chet, doggedly. 
 
 "Yes; and report to Dan and Jim before dark," re- 
 minded Phil. "We've a lot to do." 
 
 "There come the other fellows now," exclaimed 
 Fat. "But I don't see the Prof or the two femmes. 
 Cracky ! Wonder where they are." 
 
 "Quien sabe that?" spoke Dick. "Maybe snowed 
 up or buried under. Pshaw! That's the dickens of 
 a note, isn't it!" 
 
 Two more school-of -mines youths had appeared 
 around the end of the low ridge, where was located 
 the camp, and trudged in. 
 
 "Where's the Prof? And the femmes?" 
 
138 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "We don't know. Why? Haven't they come? 
 We thought they were here." 
 
 "Well, they aren't." 
 
 The new arrivals were much taken aback. 
 
 "Didn't you bring 'em?" they demanded of Bob. 
 "We supposed they were with you, of course." 
 
 "And we supposed they were with you." 
 
 "Oh, thunder!" And perturbed exclamations flew 
 thick and fast. 
 
 "That's a great deal, leaving the Prof and two girls 
 to hoof it in alone," complained Dick. "He couldn't 
 find his way around a city block, if there were any 
 cobblestones to examine. You see," explained Dick, 
 politely, to Chet and Phil, "that's our Prof Pro- 
 fessor Bronson. He's got two girls with him. He's 
 an all right Prof, but " 
 
 "What? Bronson!" ejaculated together Phil and 
 Chet; and even Bonita pricked her ears. "Did you 
 say Bronson?" 
 
 "Yes; Bronson. Name's Bronson. Why? Know 
 him?" 
 
 "Heavy set, with full beard, brown, and bald head? 
 Always picking up rocks?" 
 
 "Right you are." And 
 
 "Have you seen him?" rose the anxious query. 
 
 "Uh-uh; but we know him. Know him mighty 
 well," pronounced Chet. 
 
 "Has he got a couple of girls with him, you say?" 
 asked Phil, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes; couple of femmes." 
 
 "Don't savvy 'femmes,' me," grunted Chet, sus- 
 piciously. 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 139 
 
 "Oh, that's just a word we use, at the school, for 
 girls. French for 'women,' " enlightened Dick, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "Bet you they're Cherry and Molly," said Phil to 
 Chet. 
 
 "One's Miss Bronson, the Prof's daughter, and the 
 other's Miss Gibson, a friend," informed Dick. 
 
 "I knew it, I knew it," declared Chet, his eyes 
 snapping although just what he had known, and 
 why, then, he hadn't spoken of it before, nobody 
 might tell. "They're plumb lost, or else they're kid- 
 naped. We might just as well start right out look- 
 ing for 'em." 
 
 "You must be acquainted with the girls, too." 
 
 "I should say we are," affirmed Phil. "Chet and 
 I found Cherry she's the Prof's daughter when 
 some cattle rustlers had her, and we took her into 
 the round-up camp, and she lived with Chet and his 
 father on the Bar B ranch until we found her own 
 father, the next year, while we were trailing cows 
 up from New Mexico. We call her Cherry; expect 
 'Gwen' 's the name you've heard her called. And 
 we've met Molly Gibson, too. They were both on 
 our Circle K sheep range, and last summer they were 
 forted with us when we fought off the Indians, in 
 this very park. The Professor was there, of course. 
 We're always meeting up with them, in the mountains 
 and they're always in some sort of trouble." 
 
 "Might just as well start out looking for 'em," 
 reiterated Chet, fidgety. "No use waiting. They'll 
 not turn up. They'll have to be trailed and located 
 and brought in." 
 
140 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "You seem pretty positive about it," commented 
 Bob. 
 
 "Yes, I am," retorted Chet. "When that Pro- 
 fessor gets in the mountains, something happens every 
 time. He's lost, or kidnaped, or else he's packing so 
 many rocks about that he can't navigate." 
 
 "Or somebody may be hurt. He's got the girls 
 with him, you know," suggested Fat. 
 
 "Somebody may be hurt," assented Phil. "But 
 we'll trust Cherry to look out for herself and that 
 Molly's no slouch, either." 
 
 "Guess we'd better hike out, then, and see if we 
 can't round them up," said Dick. "Come on, fellows. 
 Give a yell, first. All together. Mines yell " and 
 at the downward sweep of his hand, standing they 
 volleyed a lusty, rousing 
 
 "'Rah, 'Rah! M-I-N-E-S! 
 Mines! Mines! Mines!" 
 
 It echoed from hill to hill. Bonita and her pups 
 waked, to stare bewildered by the great commotion. 
 While the echoes died all eyes swept the country round 
 about, and all ears were held to catch some answer- 
 ing token from the missing three. 
 
 But the red landscape of ridge and valley encom- 
 passing replied not with shout or wave from moving 
 figure, and the snowy mass of Red Chief revealed no 
 toiling specks, belated for camp. 
 
 "Wait a minute and try again," said Dick. "If that 
 doesn't fetch them, we'll start after 'em." 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 141 
 
 "No use waiting," grunted Chet, as positive as 
 ever. 
 
 Presently again they gave the yell (Phil and Chet 
 joining), and "whooped" vigorously. No news of 
 any nature resulted. 
 
 In the afternoon light old Red Chief, snowy man- 
 tled as to his shoulders, his head veiled by clouds, 
 loomed huge and austere. Owing to the clouds an- 
 other early evening was due to settle over Lost Park, 
 and particularly this western section of it. 
 
 The campers exchanged worried, questioning 
 glances. 
 
 "Well, fellows, let's hustle," directed Dick. "It's 
 going to be dark soon. Let's spread out, all along 
 the mountain on both sides of camp. Don't yell any- 
 thing but the word 'Mines,' so we won't confuse our 
 yells and theirs. But if you find them whoop so the 
 rest of us '11 know. I'm sorry," he said to Phil and 
 Chet, "but you'll have to stake out your claim and 
 catch those horses alone. We've got a job. So long." 
 
 "I reckon we're in on this," replied Chet, stoutly, 
 flushing. "Do you think we're going to chase up 
 mines or hawsses while you fellows are chasing the 
 Professor and those two girls? What do you take 
 us for? Come on. Too much talk." 
 
 "There aren't rubies or horses enough in the world 
 to make us do a trick like that," supported Phil, hot 
 at the thought. 
 
 "Good for you," approved several voices. "That's 
 the stuff!" 
 
 "It sure is," resumed Dick, hastily. "All right. 
 
i 4 2 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Scatter out, boys. We've got to find those people be- 
 fore dark." 
 
 Away they all went, dividing into ones and twos, 
 and diverging so as to cover a wide space. 
 
 Chet and Phil, followed by Bonita and her pups 
 (now ready for more adventures), kept together. 
 
 Soon the mountain-side was rife with the hail of 
 "Mines!" shouted by a dozen voices. Chet and Phil 
 heard, and occasionally shouted, themselves. Mean- 
 while they listened for any answer that might indicate 
 the Professor and the girls, and they continually 
 scanned bench and slope and hollow, before, behind, 
 and on either side. 
 
 As they climbed from the basin higher along the 
 main flank of Red Chief, they began to encounter 
 evidences of the landslide; if not of the landslide, at 
 least of a landslide fully as large. Rock had been 
 tossed and turned and reburied, cedars uprooted and 
 likewise buried, and earth had plowed along cutting 
 swaths and leveling all obstructions as easily as a snow 
 avalanche. This made traveling difficult. 
 
 "Jiminy!" puffed Chet, as in the midst of jumbled 
 rocks, brush, and soft new earth they had to pause 
 to breathe. "If the Prof and those girls were caught 
 by one of these slides, they're gone beaver. 
 Wagh!" 
 
 "They shore are," soberly responded Phil, sick with 
 the thought. 
 
 The tremendous power of the landslide, as shown 
 in the destruction wrought, imbued them with a sen- 
 sation of awe. Besides, a chill was in the air, dusk 
 
ON THE RESCUE TRAIL 143 
 
 was threatening, and far below farther than they 
 had supposed was camp. 
 
 They kept on, trudging through the soft earth 
 which cumbered their climb. The shouts of "Mines !" 
 were faint now, as the shouters were spreading wider 
 or were being left behind. The sun had set. It 
 seemed time to turn back. The Professor and the 
 girls apparently had not been found. 
 
 "We'll go a little farther, anyhow," said Chet, un- 
 willing to quit. "Want to do all we can." 
 
 "Here's the end of the slide or the beginning!" 
 exclaimed Phil. "Isn't it ? We're on hard-pan. Now 
 we can travel faster. Good !" 
 
 "That's right. Good!" sighed Chet. "Well, keep 
 a-shouting." 
 
 Sure enough. The jumble of uptorn and reburied 
 rocks and trees, assorted through soft earth, had 
 ceased; and here began a wide, smoothish stretch of 
 mountain-side swept almost bare of debris. The 
 formation under foot was hard gravel and ledge, over 
 which had slipped the first of the slide, gathering way 
 to tear and heave and rumble adown the mountain. 
 
 Treading freely, and somehow feeling hopeful, the 
 two boys had advanced but a short distance into this 
 open, irregular tract, when Phil varied their shouting 
 by his sudden call, across to Chet : 
 
 "I see a cave !" 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 
 
 CHET obliqued over, to see also. Before, the moun- 
 tain-side, now darkening with the dusk, slanted up- 
 ward more sharply. In the midst of it opened a black 
 hole, as large as a double doorway. 
 
 They approached it steadily but cautiously. A 
 black cave-mouth, far up on the lonely slope of a 
 strange mountain, at dusk, has a mysterious, threaten- 
 ing appearance that makes one expect almost any- 
 thing. Each of the boys shifted his gun into a readier 
 position, and Phil's thumb bent over the hammer of 
 his carbine, for instant cocking. With ears pricked, 
 as if she shared in the watchfulness, Bonita walked 
 behind. 
 
 "It looks like some more old workings," hazarded 
 Phil, in a low voice, as they drew near. 
 
 "Let's separate a little," bade Chet. "So whatever 
 comes out of there can go between us. You can't tell 
 what'll happen next, on this old mountain!" 
 
 They separated and approached from opposite 
 sides, Bonita following Phil, the pups, in line, follow- 
 ing Chet. But the mouth of the cave maintained black 
 silence, and presently they all might peer in. 
 
 Yes, more old workings it was, for a dim glimpse 
 of timbering was given. Evidently it was the mouth 
 
 144 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 145 
 
 of a tunnel. Chet sidled farther, craning and eying 
 and sniffing. 
 
 "Don't smell bear or any other thing/' he remarked. 
 "Huh ! Kind of musty, is all. I believe that landslide 
 uncovered it. Guess I'll go on in." 
 
 "We'd better be getting back to camp, hadn't we ?" 
 questioned Phil. "We can't do much more to-night. 
 It'll be plumb dark in a few minutes." 
 
 He gazed back, down the mountain. The school- 
 of-mines crowd must have made a huge fire, perhaps 
 to guide any wanderers in, for its ruddy twinkle could 
 be descried even at this distance. 
 
 Suddenly Chet exclaimed; there was a rush and a 
 scurry, and as Phil involuntarily sprang into readi- 
 ness, cocking his carbine, with a quick dash Bonita 
 had seized something. 
 
 It was a rabbit. Phil reached it too late, for 
 Bonita had instantly broken its back. 
 
 "It was in the tunnel," called Chet. "Now we've 
 got our supplies." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I want to see how far back this goes. 'Twon't 
 take long. May be another mine," said Chet, stub- 
 bornly. "Wish we had a torch." 
 
 "Well," criticised Phil, "we'll never find the Pro- 
 fessor and the girls, and locate our claim, and catch 
 those horses, and report to Dan and Jim, and beat 
 those three hostiles to the top, and discover the 
 Trapper's Mine, if we stop and examine the inside 
 of every hole." 
 
 "Aw, 'twon't take long," repeated Chet. "The 
 
146 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Professor and the girls may be in here some- 
 where." 
 
 "There's no sign of them, is there?" retorted Phil, 
 who was tired and hungry, and intent upon finishing 
 their old business before assuming new. "Maybe 
 they're in camp by this time." 
 
 "Twon't take long," reiterated Chet He ven- 
 tured in. 
 
 With a last glance over the dark expanse of rock 
 and soil and scraggy tree extending below and on 
 either hand, while above, into the solemn, brooding 
 sky mottled with clouds rose the ghostly, glimmering 
 shoulders of the mountain, Phil stepped after. 
 
 The interior of the tunnel mouth was decidedly 
 gruesome being vague and musty and chill. Chet 
 was fumbling and grumbling. He struck a match and 
 poked with it here and there. And from a cedar 
 timber stripping off a stringy filament of old bark, he 
 lighted that. Twisted, it formed a passable torch. 
 
 The tunnel, for by its timbering it was a tunnel, 
 seemed to lead back indefinitely. By the nature and 
 shape of the timbering, which resembled the timber- 
 ing in the workings discovered just before the medi- 
 cine elk appeared, it was another ancient tunnel, 
 driven in by forgotten Spanish explorers from 
 Mexico. 
 
 "Did you notice? It was sort of choked, at the 
 mouth, and there aren't any bats or anything else in 
 here," spoke Chet, wisely. "It's been sealed up, all 
 right, and that landslide uncovered it. We ought to 
 find some gold, lying 'round." 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 147 
 
 "We ought to get out," returned Phil. "What's 
 the sense " but Chet interrupted. 
 
 "Listen!" he cried eagerly. "I hear people talk- 
 ing!" 
 
 He had been poking about, holding his bark torch 
 high and low, and against the walls whenever a spot 
 glittered. Now he stood, as if stuck fast, close be- 
 side the farther wall, while he applied ear to the dark- 
 ness beyond. 
 
 "Listen!" he directed again. "Aw, shucks!" 
 
 Halted in his tracks, Phil did listen. Nothing came 
 to him, except the drip of water, inside, and from out- 
 side the sough of the night breeze, and, distant, the 
 howl of a wolf. Even Bonita and the pups were 
 silent. 
 
 "I don't hear anybody," he said. "Neither did you. 
 Come on. I'm going out. Do you want to stay in 
 here all night?" 
 
 "I did, too! I did hear somebody," asserted Chet, 
 irritated. "Wait, now. There ! Hear 'em for your- 
 self. Don't you? It's Cherry! Yes, sir; it's Cherry! 
 I know her voice. Sure it is !" And raising his own 
 voice, excitedly, he "whoopeed" high and long. 
 
 The tunnel echoed dismally. As the echoes died, 
 Phil listened hard; but he had heard no voices, and 
 now he could hear no response. 
 
 "Ouch !" exclaimed Chet, as his flimsy torch burned 
 his fingers. He hastily dropped it, and they were 
 plunged into inky blackness. By this sign they must 
 be farther in the tunnel than they had thought. No 
 trace of the mouth could be sighted. Maybe it had 
 
148 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 closed behind them! Phil's heart leaped into his 
 throat. But presently he could descry, behind them, a 
 bright star, shining in. 
 
 Chet was calling. 
 
 "Where are you?" he asked. "Did they answer? 
 Come over here." 
 
 "Strike a match." 
 
 "No. Want to save 'em. May need 'em. Did they 
 answer? Did you hear any answer?" 
 
 Phil groped across, and joined him. 
 
 "No, I didn't hear any answer. Didn't hear any- 
 thing at all, except you," accused Phil. 
 
 "Put your ear right here," demanded Chet, again 
 excited. "Where are you? Gimme your head 
 lemme grab holt yore ear" (when deeply stirred 
 Chet's cow-puncher speech always cropped out). Phil 
 felt himself seized by the head, drawn forward, and 
 his left ear pressed against the cold, damp rock. 
 "Now, you listen," ordered Chet. "Don't you ever 
 tell this chile he doesn't hear things, when he do." 
 
 Phil did; and to his great astonishment he heard 
 a voice, faint and clear as when heard through a 
 telephone. 
 
 "There," was saying somebody who sounded much 
 like a girl; "this is beautiful, and I know if we never 
 get out and are turned to mummies I shall always 
 be glad I came." 
 
 It certainly was Cherry. Nobody but Cherry would 
 make such a speech. 
 
 "A very unusual exposition of radioactivity or 
 triboluminescence," remarked another voice that of 
 a man. 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 149 
 
 "Great Oesar's ghost!" ejaculated Phil. "There's 
 the Professor, all right." 
 
 "What did he say? What did he say?" demanded 
 Chet, wildly. 
 
 "Something about something; don't ask me; jaw- 
 breakers," answered Phil. 
 
 "How romantic," sounded, in those faint, thin 
 accents, a second girl voice. 
 
 "Aw, that's Molly. I heard, plain," exclaimed 
 Chet, with ear beside Phil's. "She's always saying 
 'How romantic !' ' 
 
 "Hurrah!" cheered Phil, he also excited. "We've 
 found 'em! They're in the cave. Yell," and he 
 whooped and shouted. 
 
 Whooped and shouted Chet. While the echoes 
 died, they listened for response. None came. The 
 echoes died to silence, a deep, black silence. 
 
 "Cherry! Oh, Professor!" they called. "Where 
 are you? What's the matter? Hello!" 
 
 As before, there was no response whatsoever. 
 
 "What ails 'em, anyhow?" complained Chet. 
 
 "Put your ear against the rock. They're still talk- 
 ing." 
 
 So they were. 
 
 "I suppose we'd better sit right here until we're 
 found," was saying Cherry. "Or until we do turn 
 into mummies. We ought to have left a thread, as 
 a guide, as we walked along." 
 
 "We didn't have a thread," objected Molly. 
 
 "We could have unraveled a stocking," informed 
 Cherry, in her sprightly way. 
 
150 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Chet and Phil chuckled. Cherry was smart. 
 
 "The thread was the method of Theseus when he 
 solved the labyrinth of the Minotaurus," commented 
 the Professor, as if he were delivering a lecture. 
 
 "How romantic," breathed Molly as customary 
 with her. 
 
 "The students will be searching for us, I expect," 
 continued the Professor. "Fortunately, we have our 
 lunch, and can husband that; and we shall not suffer 
 for lack of water; and the luminescence is truly a re- 
 markable feature." 
 
 "Well, if Chet and Phil were around, they'd find 
 us," asserted Cherry. "I know they would. And I 
 shouldn't wonder if they did, too!" 
 
 "Good! That's the talk!" uttered Phil. And 
 
 "Wagh!" agreed Chet, much pleased. 
 
 "That would be very romantic. It certainly 
 would," declared Molly. "And do you really think 
 it's possible?" 
 
 "They always turn up just when we need some- 
 body," asserted Cherry, loyally. "And maybe Mr. 
 Grizzly Dan will be with them. But I feel them in 
 my bones, anyway." 
 
 "They would be very capable, if they were informed 
 of our plight," said the Professor. "Very capable in- 
 deed. But we must depend on the students, I think. 
 They will do their best; be- assured of that." 
 
 "Just the same, I expect Phil and Chet," insisted 
 Cherry. "I've been sending thought messages to 
 them." 
 
 "But Jiminy Christmas, we're right here," shouted 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 151 
 
 Phil. "Where are you? I'm Phil, and here's Chet. 
 In the cave." 
 
 "Whoopee!" yelped Chet. 
 
 But all the reply that they received was one of 
 Molly's "How romantics." 
 
 "That beats the dickens!" grumbled Chet. "We 
 can hear them, but they don't hear us." 
 
 "But we can't even hear them, unless we're right 
 against the wall, at this one spot!" pronounced Philj 
 struck with an idea. "See? Try it." They did. "It's 
 a whispering gallery; only the wall carries the sound! 
 By spots ! If they were in the right place, against 
 the wall, they could hear us, same as we hear them!" 
 
 "Aw, shucks!" protested Chet. "What are we 
 going to do, then?" 
 
 "There must be another opening. They didn't 
 come in this way; we didn't see any tracks," rea- 
 soned Phil. "We'd better go back to camp and tell 
 the fellows, and all start out first thing in the morn- 
 ing. It's too dark to do much else." 
 
 "No, sir !" vowed Chet, obstinately. "That Cherry 
 said we were to find her, and we will, too. What's 
 the use in wasting time till morning? It's dark in 
 here anyhow, and I'm going on in. This tunnel's 
 liable to lead clear through to where they are. 
 Savvy?" 
 
 "All right. I'm with you," promptly answered 
 Phil. "We've got to have a light, though. Make an j 
 other torch." 
 
 They felt about them, and stripped more of the 
 
152 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 stringy bark from a cedar post. Chet touched match 
 to another twist, and they pushed forward. 
 
 "Remember the way, now," cautioned Chet. 
 
 The tunnel, its roof two feet above their heads, its 
 sides wider than they could span, led straight into the 
 mountain. Roof and sides were dank with seepage, 
 which in some places slowly dripped; but the timber- 
 ing that supported the roof and walls seemed sound. 
 Occasionally spots glistened in the torchlight glis- 
 tened with the moisture or perhaps with mica. The 
 boys did not pause to see whether the glisten might 
 be gold. 
 
 Their footsteps rang in hollow fashion. With 
 patter, patter, Bonita and the pups, much subdued, 
 trotted after. The mouth of the tunnel, behind, was 
 swallowed in the darkness, except as it was indicated 
 by a few stars that it framed. And the farther 
 the boys went, the less in number these became. 
 Finally all vanished, as if the tunnel made a turn. 
 
 "Let's try 'em again," proposed Phil, as he and 
 Chet halted to start another torch. 
 
 Groping, they sought along the walls for more con- 
 versation. At first they were unsuccessful. As Phil 
 had said, the sounds seemed to be repeated only in* 
 spots. Chet was just lamenting "Oh, shucks !" when 
 suddenly they both heard Cherry's brisk voice an- 
 nounce clearly: 
 
 "There! Listen! I heard somebody. He said 'Oh, 
 shucks'!" 
 
 "I did that," called Chet, eagerly. "We're looking 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 153 
 
 for you. Hello! We're looking for you. Is that 
 you, Cherry? Hello!" 
 
 "You don't give me a chance to answer," reproved 
 Cherry calmly. "You're Chet, aren't you? Where's 
 Phil?" 
 
 "Right here." 
 
 "Hello, Cherry!" greeted Phil. 
 
 "There!" they heard Cherry say. "It's Chet and 
 Phil. Didn't I tell you? They're looking for us." 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Molly. "How romantic! But / 
 don't hear them." 
 
 "Nor I, either," confessed the Professor. "I fear 
 that it's a hallucination." 
 
 "Not a bit, Papa," denied Cherry. "You and Molly 
 put your ears on the wall beside mine, and you'll hear 
 perfectly. Say 'Shucks/ Chet." 
 
 "Aw, shucks!" repeated Chet half sheepishly and 
 half in earnest. 
 
 "Hello, Professor. Hello, Molly," addressed 
 Phil. 
 
 "Hello," they responded. 
 
 "Bless my soul," added the Professor. 
 
 "Whereabouts are you?" asked Chet. 
 
 "Right here, in a beautiful cave," informed Cherry. 
 "Where are you?" 
 
 "In the cave, too." 
 
 "You must be on the outside of the inside, and 
 we're on the inside of the outside," reasoned Cherry; 
 "because we can't see you. Is it beautiful where you 
 are?" 
 
154 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "I should say not!" laughed Phil. "Dark as pitch." 
 
 "Oh, here it's nice and light," proclaimed Cherry. 
 "The ground is transparent, you know, and the sun 
 shines right through." 
 
 "Aw, fiddle!" scoffed Chet, bluntly. "There isn't 
 any sun. It's night." 
 
 "But it can't be. It's morning; I know it's morn- 
 ing, and we've been in here all night," protested 
 Cherry. 
 
 "It's night," assured Phil. "Really, it is. The sun 
 set before we came in, and a minute ago when we 
 looked back we could see the stars, outside the tunnel." 
 
 "Well, then," declared Cherry, "Papa and Molly 
 and I have gone clear through the earth, to where 
 it's daylight. Maybe we're in China. Isn't that won- 
 derful? I knew," they heard her say triumphantly 
 to the others, "that we'd gone a long way." 
 
 "Gracious!" sighed Molly. "The situation grows 
 more romantic every second!" 
 
 "The question is," spoke the Professor, "how shall 
 we unite our parties. How far are you from the 
 opening by which you entered?" 
 
 "Not extra far, Professor," replied Phil. "But it 
 isn't the same opening that you used. We didn't see 
 your tracks. We're in a tunnel an old mine tunnel." 
 
 "Yes; we're in an artificial chamber, too, of some 
 kind," vouchsafed the Professor. "The luminescence 
 is extraordinary. I judge from your remarks as to 
 the darkness that you are not witnessing the same 
 phenomenon." 
 
 "No. I guess not," agreed Phil. "Are we, Chet?" 
 
THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAIN 155 
 
 "Triboluminescence, triboflorescence, and tribo- 
 phosphorescence ; the results of the three phenomena 
 are closely related, and quite similar," instructed the 
 Professor. "This amidst which we are sitting seems 
 to be a radioactivity." 
 
 "All the 'trib' here is tribulation," informed Chet. 
 
 "Ours is nothing but daylight," insisted Cherry, 
 flatly; "and I don't care what names Papa calls it. 
 Were you looking for us, really?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How did you find out we were lost?" 
 
 "Those school-of-mines boys told us. We were in 
 their camp. We're on a prospecting trip with Grizzly 
 Dan and Flapjack Jim; hunting for a mine." 
 
 "Are those other boys looking for us ?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "Then," declared Cherry, in her decisive voice 
 which always was saying the quaint and original, 
 "you must beat them and find us first. You come 
 just as fast as you can, and we'll wait right here. 
 Have you anything to eat on the way?" 
 
 "A rabbit; and four puppies. They're Bonita's 
 puppies. She's along." 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't eat the puppies!" objected 
 Cherry. "Molly and I want to see them. Please be 
 careful of them. The rabbit will be plenty. It isn't 
 far through the earth. This must be a magic cave. 
 We started with only some bacon sandwiches, and 
 we've got part of them still." 
 
 "But where are you ?" implored Phil. 
 
 "Right here," repeated Cherry. "You follow your 
 
156 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 voice, and once in a while we'll speak to you, to guide 
 you." 
 
 "We can't see. We'll run out of torches," debated 
 Chet, doubtfully. 
 
 "You can hear, just the same," reminded Cherry. 
 "We can call Bonita, and you can tie a string to her 
 and let her play blind man's dog." 
 
 "Aw, she doesn't hear you. We'd have to hold 
 her against the wall, to make her hear. We'll come 
 as far as we can, and she can lead us out if we get 
 stuck." 
 
 "Now we're coming," warned Phil. 
 
 They lighted another twist of cedar bark, and with 
 Chet holding it they proceeded at the best pace prac- 
 ticable. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 
 
 THE tunnel continued without interruption. Occa- 
 sionally niches had been hollowed into its sides, but 
 they seemed empty. The boys were in too much of 
 a hurry to examine details; the finding of the Pro- 
 fessor's party was of more importance than gold or 
 relics. But the way appeared to lead on intermi- 
 nably. 
 
 "Keep talking to 'em," bade Chet. 
 
 "Coming, coming, coming," signaled he and Phil, 
 in measured accents, as they advanced. 
 
 Again they paused, for a moment, to apply ear to 
 rocky wall. Now they heard nothing but their own 
 hearts. 
 
 "Hello!" invited Phil. "Hello, Cherry! Hello, 
 Professor and Molly!" 
 
 But Cherry and the Professor and Molly did not 
 respond. Evidently the sound-waves did not strike 
 this particular point. 
 
 "The dickens I" fretted Phil. 
 
 "Come on," bade Chet. "We haven't got any 
 torches, and the bark in here'll be too damp to burn." 
 
 So, with Chet as torch-bearer and Phil dangling the 
 rabbit, on they penetrated. Behind, trotted, with 
 shuffle of pad and scratch of claw, Bonita and her 
 
 157 
 
158 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 four pups, all solemn as if oppressed by the strange 
 route. 
 
 Suddenly Phil made a discovery. "It's getting 
 lighter ahead, Chet !" he announced doubtfully. "Isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "Wagh! Coming out into daylight land, maybe," 
 grunted Chet. "Let's see. We've got plenty of 
 matches, anyhow." And he blew out the torch. 
 
 Instantly darkness closed about them; but as they 
 stood, blinking and peering, the darkness gradually 
 lightened to a faint grayness. Phil could trace the 
 outlines of his hand, held before him, and he could 
 distinguish Chet and the surface of the tunnel wall. 
 
 "It can't be daylight; of course it can't," he as- 
 serted. "That is," and he weakened, "I don't under- 
 stand how it can be daylight, yet." 
 
 "Listen! I hear Cherry," said Chet. "Put your ear 
 to the wall and you can hear her, too. Hello, 
 Cherry." 
 
 "Hello," answered Cherry's crisp little voice. 
 "Why didn't you answer before? We've been talk- 
 ing to you all this time." 
 
 "We've been talking to you, and you didn't an- 
 swer," accused Phil. "Where are you?" 
 
 "Right here, waiting." 
 
 "But we're getting into daylight or something; 
 and we don't see you. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you? Well, you keep on. We 
 won't stir. Papa's asleep, anyway." 
 
 "Heard from the school-of -mines fellows?" 
 
 "Not a thing. You'll beat if you hurry." 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 159 
 
 They resumed the trail. Now they walked with- 
 out a torch; they had to advance cautiously, for the 
 atmosphere was dim and uncertain; but it was per- 
 meated with a pale glow that thinned it, and barely 
 showed the way. The pale glow seemed to ooze, 
 rather than to shine; and only when the boys roughly 
 rubbed the sides of the tunnel could they descry any 
 definite spots. Their fingers left a slight trace, 
 brighter than the surrounding surface. 
 
 "It doesn't seem like phosphorus, because it doesn't 
 come off," argued Phil, examining his finger-tips. 
 
 "It's getting brighter," proclaimed Chet. 
 
 Either that was the case, or their eyes were becom- 
 ing accustomed to the atmosphere. Yes, it was 
 brighter; and near ahead was to be noted a much 
 brighter area, as if the boys were about to emerge 
 from the tunnel into the outer world. 
 
 "Whoopee!" they called, encouraged, and signaling 
 their approach. 
 
 But no "Whoopee!" responded. 
 
 "They aren't there, after all, or else they're plumb 
 asleep," grumbled Chet. "I can't hear 'em along the 
 wall, either." 
 
 The way slowly brightened, helped by the reflection 
 of the area ahead. They were treading a road 
 lighted by enchantment, so mysterious and silent it 
 extended. And presently, from their tunnel they 
 stepped forth, staring and expectant, into a high, 
 large, round vaulted chamber, all softly illuminated. 
 Only one step within they took, Phil pressing close 
 behind Chet. 
 
160 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Wagh !" uttered Chet, stopping so short as almost 
 to recoil. He pointed. 
 
 "Who's that?" gasped Phil, also startled. 
 
 Bonita, slipping past, likewise halted, gazing with 
 ears pricked. 
 
 High, large, round, and vaulted was the chamber, 
 and silent with a strange hush. By sign of numerous 
 openings, from it radiated many tunnels like their 
 own. Seated in a stone chair in the center, profile 
 outlined, was what appeared to be a human figure. 
 While they stared it did not move. Chet half raised 
 his gun; Phil, too, involuntarily made ready. 
 
 "Hello," quavered Chet. "Who is it?" 
 
 The figure made no response. 
 
 "Comme la va? Quien es? (How do you do? 
 Who are you?)" pursued Chet, more boldly, in Span- 
 ish, for the figure might be Mexican. 
 
 Still there was no response, by voice or movement. 
 
 "I don't believe it is anybody," after a pause said 
 Phil, striving to keep his tones from being shaky. "It 
 isn't you or Molly, is it, Cherry?" he demanded. 
 
 "Don't try to joke," quavered Chet, into the still- 
 ness. "We're liable to shoot." 
 
 They waited. 
 
 "I'm going on," announced Chet, his bulldog pluck 
 returned. "Nobody can scare me." 
 
 "Same here," declared Phil. 
 
 Together, guns poised, they strode right forward 
 but, albeit, making a cautious little circuit which 
 brought them around more in front of the figure. 
 Bonita, evidently as uncertain as they, with tail 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 161 
 
 drooped and ears inquiring, stuck close to their heels. 
 The pups imitated her. 
 
 Nothing happened. Now they were in front of the 
 figure. Phil rather expected an outburst of laughter 
 from concealed jokers from Cherry and Molly, 
 probably, in one of those tunnels. However, the hush 
 and stillness brooded as before, and was scarcely 
 broken by their resolute tread. 
 
 "It's a mummy! A woman mummy! Squaw, I 
 guess," asserted Chet, scanning keenly. "See? 
 Shucks!" 
 
 "It's a girl," pronounced Phil. "What's on her 
 lap?" 
 
 They approached without reserve. Yes, the figure 
 of a girl it was; and a beautiful young girl, long 
 though she must have been sitting here. Her head 
 was uncovered; her hair, in twin heavy braids, lay 
 forward upon either shoulder. Her face was oval and 
 her features regular : her closed eyes fringed with 
 heavy lashes, her nose small and straight, her chin 
 round, and her mouth even yet curved sweetly. Her 
 complexion was surprisingly light, showing that she 
 was not an Indian, as Indians go. At least, she was 
 not a northern American Indian. 
 
 The upper part of her body was clad in a close 
 jacket of smooth whitish skin, richly embroidered; a 
 short skirt of woven material, apparently dark red, 
 fell over her knees. Her ankles were bared, save as 
 moccasin thongs were plaited across them; and her 
 daintily moccasined feet were crossed. Between her 
 two hands, in her lap, was a burnt clay bowl; and 
 
1 62 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 hanging from her neck was a necklace of large stones. 
 
 It did not seem that she had been embalmed; it 
 seemed that she had been preserved by the air, pure 
 and sweet, for the chamber was perfectly ventilated. 
 She had dried, her cheeks had lost some of their per- 
 fect contour, her hands had shrunken, but about her 
 was nothing repelling or disagreeable. Indeed, she 
 was attractive. 
 
 So there she sat, upright, in her stone chair, with 
 a stone step for a footstool, mysterious amidst the 
 mysterious pale light that came from nowhere and 
 from everywhere. The boys were not now afraid. 
 Only Bonita, with nose outstretched and ears erect, 
 held back. The pups whined. 
 
 "Gee!" murmured Chet He touched her. Phil 
 touched her. Her jacket was hard and brittle, and 
 just the finger-tip applied to her thick braids loosened 
 some of the hair. 
 
 At the same instant, something more startling oc- 
 curred, for she moved! 
 
 They both sprang back in alarm. Yes, she moved ; 
 but she moved, chair and all, revolving slowly and 
 smoothly about as upon a concealed pivot. Just a 
 touch of the hand had set her swinging, until she had 
 faced three-quarters around. 
 
 "Huh! Great stunt!" uttered Chet, venturing to 
 approach and experiment again. 
 
 Silently and smoothly she revolved. They gazed, 
 fascinated anew. 
 
 "The bowl's full of pebbles," said Phil. "Look; 
 what are they?" 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 163 
 
 Chet picked one of the pebbles out. 
 
 "Turquoise, in the rough! Yes, sir; all turquoise. 
 Like your matrix. See?" 
 
 "And that's a turquoise necklace, then. Jiminy!" 
 
 They spoke low, for they had a feeling that they 
 must not awaken her. Chet ventured to lift a loop of 
 the necklace. The turquoise, smooth and polished 
 and blue, were strung on flexible wire that might be 
 gold. Phil also gently fingered them. 
 
 "Shall we take 'em; and those in the bowl, too?" 
 queried Chet. "They're worth money." 
 
 "Shall we?" debated Phil. "Wonder whose they 
 are?" 
 
 "Ours, aren't they?" answered Chet. "Nobody'll 
 claim 'em. They must have been here a hundred 
 years or more." 
 
 "Expect they were left for a purpose, though. And 
 it's it's almost like robbing a grave." 
 
 "Aw " stammered Chet. "They aren't any- 
 body's and we've found 'em " 
 
 "Sh!" interrupted Phil. "Listen! People talk- 
 ing!" 
 
 They hastily let the necklace drop into place, and 
 restored the rough turquoise to the painted bowl. 
 Voices were plain. They filled the chamber. They 
 appeared to enter from all sides. 
 
 "If they don't hurry they'll not find us first. It 
 must be nearly night, again." That was Cherry. 
 "When it comes night here we'll have to go back 
 to the other part of the world where it'll be 
 daylight." 
 
1 64 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "The duration of time is very deceptive, to persons 
 as enclosed as we are." That was the Professor. 
 
 "Maybe they're lost, themselves," proffered Molly. 
 "This certainly is an exceedingly romantic situation." 
 
 Then 
 
 "Hyar's a chile as don't like burrowin' 'round bea- 
 ver style. He air no ground hawg. He air a moun- 
 tain man, wagh, who travels atop the ground." 
 
 "Grizzly Dan ! There's old Dan !" exclaimed, with 
 a single astonished shout, Chet and Phil. 
 
 Another voice chimed in. 
 
 "Well, now, 'tis an 'asy way o' gettin' into the 
 earth, followin' other people's holes. Sure, somebody 
 did a heap o' tunnelin', an' they were kind enough to 
 leave their lights burnin'. Mebbe we'll shtrike a bo- 
 nanza." 
 
 "Flapjack Jim; Hurrah! There's old Jim!" cried 
 the excited listeners. 
 
 Bonita, much bewildered, trotted from center to 
 outskirts, and back to center again, her head cocked 
 to one side. A third set of voices entered. 
 
 "Now we've got 'em we'll keep 'em. If they don't 
 come to terms we'll cover the mouth and go on up to 
 the mine." 
 
 "Oh, they'll come to terms, quick enough. Wait 
 till they begin to starve." 
 
 "There's the two kids to watch out for." 
 
 "They don't amount to much. We'll fix them. 
 The old fellow and that peg-leg prospector are the 
 ones we want, and them we've got." 
 
 Chet looked at Phil; Phil looked at Chet. Their 
 eyes widened. 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 165 
 
 "The Black Man gang/' whispered Phil. 
 
 Chet nodded. 
 
 "The three hostiles, sure," he agreed. 
 
 "Wonder where they all are?" 
 
 "They aren't together. They must be in different 
 tunnels. We'll have to locate 'em by those holes that 
 open into this one. Come on." 
 
 Chet stepped nimbly aside. 
 
 "Listen," he bade, speaking low. 
 
 Standing together, they listened. Not a sound was 
 heard. The silence again reigned. 
 
 "They've quit!" accused Chet, disgusted. 
 
 "Wait," ordered Phil, a sudden thought striking 
 him; and he quickly returned to the center, where in 
 her revolving stone chair sat like an image the girl of 
 the turquoise. 
 
 Instantly he was again in the midst of voices. 
 
 "If we ate another whole bacon sandwich, I won- 
 der whether it would be breakfast or supper," was 
 saying Cherry. 
 
 Her voice was drowned, momentarily, by the voice 
 of Grizzly Dan, complaining : 
 
 "If ever I get out o' hyar an' anything's happened 
 wrong on outside, ha'r '11 be raised, I tell 'ee. I think 
 a heap o' those thar two boy compafieros o' mine, an' 
 of my old hos an' mule, too. Wagh! We ought to 
 be snug in camp, with pot a-bilin'; that's whar we 
 ought to be." 
 
 "Faith! In we came, an' sure it's a beautiful tun- 
 nel or set o' tunnels," answered Flapjack Jim. "But 
 what are we to do with jist a bit of a candle?" 
 
 The voice of the Black Man intercepted. 
 
166 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "We've got their hosses and baggage, anyhow. 
 That'll make 'em come to terms, you bet." 
 
 "Except the one critter that went in with 'em." 
 
 "Well, they can eat it," chuckled a third voice. 
 
 Here to Phil's eager ears floated a familiar, re- 
 sonant: "Hee-haw!" followed by Flapjack Jim's 
 pleading tones : 
 
 "Arrah, now, Brownie; can't you lade us out? Be 
 a darlin'." 
 
 "Aw, Brownie's in there, too!" called Phil, guard- 
 edly, to Chet. "What do you think of that!" 
 
 "Why? Do you hear 'em?" 
 
 "Yes. All of them. Don't you?" 
 
 "Naw. Not a word." 
 
 "Everything centers here, then. We'll have to 
 listen at the tunnels. That's the only way." 
 
 "Put your ear against the walls. You know," re- 
 minded Chet. 
 
 The tunnel openings were nine ; each flanked by one 
 curious half-round short pillar, like a mummied sen- 
 tinel, set into the edge and tapering away, above. At 
 the first opening tried, the boys could hear nothing. 
 
 "This must be the hole we came in by," reasoned 
 Phil. "We'd know, if we hadn't gone and turned 
 that girl around so." 
 
 But at the second hole, also, they could hear noth- 
 ing. That complicated matters. The third seemed 
 to be the tunnel of the Professor's party; their voices 
 sounded clearly, mingled not with any others. 
 
 "Hello, Cherry," greeted Chet, guardedly, into it. 
 "Can you hear me?" 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF THE CAVE 167 
 
 "Yes. Aren't you coming? We're tired waiting. 
 Those other boys will beat you." 
 
 "We're mixed up. Are you all right?" 
 
 "I don't know whether we are or not. We're just 
 sitting. Do hurry. Is Phil there?" 
 
 "Uh-huh. Aren't you, Phil?" 
 
 "I shore am," confirmed Phil, broadly. 
 
 "Have you reached daylight land, yet?" 
 
 "Well, it's light, sort of," granted Chet. "We're 
 in an awful funny place, too." 
 
 "We aren't," retorted Cherry. "It isn't funny at 
 all when you have only one bacon sandwich for 
 three people." 
 
 "It's getting so it isn't even romantic any more," 
 chimed in Molly. "And the Professor's asleep." 
 
 "Are you coming, or not?" demanded Cherry. 
 "We're saving the sandwich until we know whether 
 we can eat it all up, or take a bite three times a day 
 instead of meals." 
 
 "Listen," instructed Chet. "There are some other 
 people in around here, Grizzly Dan and Flapjack 
 Jim, and the Black Man and two partners. Dan and 
 Jim are lost, and the Black Man gang have got 'em 
 holed up. We can hear all of you, right where we are 
 in a regular room in the middle. We've got to ar- 
 range some way to find you and find Dan and Jim 
 too." 
 
 "Goodness gracious !" exclaimed Cherry. "I should 
 say you had. And is that horrid traitor Black Man 
 lost?" 
 
 "No. He's on the outside, waiting." 
 
1 68 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Then we'll let him wait," declared Cherry, 
 promptly. "Now, what are going to do with all of 
 us?" 
 
 "You and Dan and Jim are in separate tunnels " 
 
 "Three tunnels?" interrupted Cherry, critically. 
 
 "No; two. You're in one and they're in another. 
 But a lot of tunnels open into the room and we're lis- 
 tening at each so as to label which is which." 
 
 "You can label this the Lone Sandwich Tunnel," 
 suggested Cherry. 
 
 Phil laughed; but Chet continued doggedly. 
 
 "I'll leave Phil here to talk with you, and I'll try 
 the other holes and catch Dan and Jim, if I can. Then 
 we'll scheme what to do. I guess you'd all better 
 come in here." 
 
 "Very well," remarked Cherry, calmly. "But 
 please remember, a bacon sandwich hasn't many bites 
 to it, so hurry." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS 
 
 CHET trudged away, on exploratory circuit of the 
 tunnel openings. 
 
 "Is that you, Phil?" came Cherry's voice to Phil, 
 as he stood leaning against the curious half-round col- 
 umn that like a gate-post formed one edge of the tun- 
 nel mouth. 
 
 "Yes. 'I'm waiting, right here." 
 
 "That's comfortable," commented Cherry. "We 
 can't see you, but now we can feel you're there. I 
 wonder how far away you are?" 
 
 "Kin savvy," answered Phil. 
 
 "How romantic," he heard Molly murmur drow- 
 sily. 
 
 "I wish you'd talk English to me," protested 
 Cherry, aggrieved. "Papa's asleep and Molly's 'most 
 asleep, and if you're going to talk cowboy Mexican, I 
 might as well go to sleep myself. Tell me, how'll 
 you and Chet get us out?" 
 
 "One of us can come in to you, or you can follow 
 our voices, and we can meet you." 
 
 "Br-r-r-r!" shuddered Cherry. "It's all dark be- 
 yond us, and behind us, too. We sha'n't stir from 
 this spot without a guide who knows every turn. 
 When you're lost, the way to be found is to sit still 
 
 169 
 
1 70 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 and make signals and wait. And that's what we're 
 doing." 
 
 "I'll come in a way," proposed Phil. "Just f r 
 fun. And maybe you aren't as far as we think. 
 Keep talking, please." 
 
 He entered. Momentarily he missed Cherry's 
 voice, but almost at once he caught it again, even 
 though his ear was not against the wall! 
 
 "Can you hear me?" he queried anxiously. 
 
 "Of course I can," replied Cherry. 
 
 "Well, keep talking, then." 
 
 "What can I talk about? It's very spooky, talking 
 to somebody's voice," objected Cherry. 
 
 "I know!" exclaimed Phil, suddenly electrified. 
 "Call Bonita !" For Bonita was at his heels, her ears 
 up and her head cocked to one side, as she listened to 
 that mysterious voice. 
 
 "Bonita! Here, Bonita! Here, Bonita!" called 
 Cherry. 
 
 Bonita whined. 
 
 "Go on !" urged Phil. "Go find her. Go on. Go, 
 Bonita," and amidst the dimness he motioned her for- 
 ward. "Keep calling," he besought, to Cherry. 
 
 With another impatient little whine Bonita dashed 
 away, and disappeared in the darkness, beyond, of 
 the tunnel's depths. 
 
 "She's coming," Phil informed, to Cherry. "She 
 can see in the dark better than we can, and if she 
 hears you she'll find you, I bet a cookie. Keep call- 
 ing." " 
 
 Cherry industriously called Bonita. Phil waited 
 
BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS 171 
 
 a moment; Bonita came not back, and with hopes 
 high he retired to the mouth of the tunnel, to com- 
 municate the news to Chet. 
 
 Chet was across the vaulted chamber, evidently 
 talking into one of the openings there. 
 
 "I've got 'em," he said briefly, as Phil hastily ap- 
 proached. "They're coming." 
 
 "I've sent Bonita in to Cherry," announced Phil. 
 
 "Bueno," approved Chet. 
 
 Phil hurried back. He gained the mouth of the 
 tunnel just in time to hear Cherry's delighted words : 
 "Bonita! Why, Bonita! Here you are. Smart dog- 
 gie!" Then Molly and the Professor must have 
 wakened, for Cherry soothed : "'It's Bonita, Phil's 
 dog. She's going to take us to them, aren't you, Bon- 
 ita? And how are the puppies?" 
 
 "Hello," interrupted Phil. "Can you hear me? 
 Tie your handkerchiefs to her collar and she'll lead 
 you. I'll call her. Tell me when you're ready. 
 Don't let her get away." 
 
 "All right," answered Cherry. 
 
 "It's as romantic as being rescued by St. Bernards 
 in the Alps," asserted Molly. 
 
 "The intelligence of the collie or sheep dog is very 
 highly developed," uttered the Professor, in satisfied 
 tone. "Now I must not omit to take with us some 
 specimens of this luminescence, in order to test it for 
 radioactivity." 
 
 "There, Bonita," spoke Cherry, also as if satisfied. 
 "Bring us to Phil and Chet. Call her, Phil." 
 
 "I am calling," asserted Phil. 
 
172 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Aren't you calling? I can't hear you. Wait a 
 minute, but don't stop, if you are calling." 
 
 There was a pause in operations at the other end. 
 Phil continued to call: "Here, Bonita! Here, Bon- 
 ita!" and to whistle; and then he heard Cherry's 
 triumphant hail: 
 
 "Now she heard you! I pressed her ear against 
 the wall. She's coming. So are we. Don't let go 
 of hands, Papa and Molly." 
 
 Phil called; but if Bonita's ear must be pressed to 
 the wall, every little while ! Of course that would 
 not be necessary, though, for she would back-track, 
 he was certain. Presently Cherry announced: 
 
 "We can hear you, in spots, without listening 
 against the wall. It's awful dark, but Bonita knows 
 just what to do. I'm first, holding to the handker- 
 chief rope, and Molly's next, holding to my hand, and 
 Papa's last, holding to Molly's hand. So here we 
 
 come." 
 
 "That's good," encouraged Phil. "I'll keep call- 
 ing." 
 
 So he did, while just within the tunnel he peered 
 and listened eagerly, for what the depths were about 
 to deliver. First he heard a rapid shuffle; they were 
 coming! Hurrah! Then it seemed to him that he 
 could see them shadowy forms far back in the 
 dusky recesses. But he had to wait some time, be- 
 fore, on a sudden, out from the blackness Cherry's 
 voice sounded briskly: "There! I see him! I see 
 Phil. Hello, Phil," to which he responded instantly, 
 "Hello!" After a moment's delay they appeared 
 
BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS 173 
 
 first Bonita, tongue dangling as she valiantly tugged 
 away, then Cherry, in smart khaki short skirt and 
 trim blue waist, and red tie and cowboy hat, her 
 cheeks scarlet and her black eyes dancing as she clung 
 fast to the handkerchief rope; then, holding to her 
 hand, Molly, similarly dressed, her blue eyes wide in 
 her flushed oval face; and holding to her hand the 
 Professor, in the school-of -mines costume of cordu- 
 roys and flannel, a bulging canvas bag like a game- 
 sack slung at his side. That, of course, was full of 
 rocks and other specimens. 
 
 "Bueno," greeted Phil, shaking hands hard with 
 all of them, and also patting the proud Bonita. 
 
 "Did you find us or did we find you?" demanded 
 Cherry, immediately. "But you beat those school-of- 
 mines boys, anyway." 
 
 "So romantic," declared Molly. 
 
 "Remarkable," imparted the Professor, blinking as 
 he gazed about him. "A remarkable chamber. Evi- 
 dently artificial." 
 
 At this instant there was a series of exclamatory 
 greetings across the vault, and from one of the op- 
 posite tunnels emerged, welcomed by Chet, first Flap- 
 jack Jim, carrying his battered pick; next Brownie 
 his burro, packed with Jim's prospector outfit; and 
 next Grizzly Dan, head thrust inquiringly forward, 
 his long rifle at a trail. Brownie at once halted, and 
 opening wide her homely mouth emitted her custom- 
 ary "Hee-haw!" as if celebrating. 
 
 "B 5 gorry," quoth Flapjack Jim, blinking rapidly 
 with his little eyes set in his wrinkled-apple face, as 
 
174 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 he stared about, "where might we be at now, I won- 
 der?" 
 
 "Wagh!" exclaimed old Dan, gutturally. "Who's 
 that thar in the middle?" 
 
 "Hello," called Cherry, excited, across to them. 
 "Hello, Mr. Dan." And then she, too, saw the silent 
 figure in the stone chair. "Oh, goodness!" she ut- 
 tered. "We've got company." 
 
 "It isn't alive," explained Phil, in haste to quiet 
 any alarm. "It's an Indian girl, is all. She's been 
 left here, with a lap full of turquoise, and the air or 
 something has preserved her." 
 
 "A preserved Indian girl mercy!" shuddered 
 Cherry. "Can we look at her?" 
 
 "Oh, she's not bad to look at. She's all right. 
 She's kind of pretty, Chet and I think." 
 
 "That's worthy of investigation," declared the 
 Professor, much interested and straightway making 
 for the chair. 
 
 Cherry and Molly sidled in the one direction, to ob- 
 tain a near view gradually; and Grizzly Dan and 
 Flapjack Jim, to whom Chet likewise had been ex- 
 plaining, sidled, as cautiously, from another. 
 
 "Sure, an' she's long dead an' gone," said Flapjack 
 Jim, crossing himself piously. "May the saints rist 
 her sowl, the purty young thing." 
 
 "Oh, she is pretty, isn't she!" exclaimed Cherry 
 and Molly together. And Molly added, greatly 
 amazed, "Positively the most romantic thing I ever 
 heard of!" 
 
 Grizzly Dan, much impressed, only muttered to 
 
BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS 175 
 
 himself. They stood, gazing, with Chet and Phil do- 
 ing the honors of the exhibition. 
 
 "Evidently an aborigine, but by complexion one 
 from the south, I judge," announced the Professor, 
 busily. "No doubt from the Pueblo country." 
 
 "An' would ye look at the foine necklace!" ejac- 
 ulated Flapjack Jim. "An' what might be in the 
 bowl, I ask?" 
 
 "Those are turquoise, too," asserted Phil. "Bowl's 
 plumb full of them." 
 
 "Big medicine," muttered Grizzly Dan. "Wouldn't 
 tech her, if I war you. Wagh ! This chile wants to 
 get out o' hyar, pronto. Cave air a spirit cave." 
 
 "Yes, turquoise, assuredly," affirmed the Professor, 
 examining fearlessly. "And the bowl is evidently an 
 ancient Pueblo bowl, with sacrificial pattern. Re- 
 markable!" 
 
 "How long do you think she's been here, Profes- 
 sor?" queried Phil. "A hundred years?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; very likely. Perhaps more. After the 
 flesh had become thoroughly preserved, time would be 
 indefinite. Her complexion and features would indi- 
 cate Aztec origin; and the woven skirt and the bowl 
 would indicate a southern source, also. I should say 
 that these were old Aztec workings; or if early Span- 
 ish, then the aborigines may have driven the Spanish 
 out, and left this young girl here as a guardian. Er 
 even as a sacrifice." 
 
 "Gracious!" exclaimed Cherry and Molly. "Don't 
 say any more, please." 
 
 "Wagh 1 Mebbe we'd better make a little medicine, 
 
176 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 an' get out, ourselves," proposed Grizzly Dan. "This 
 air no place for humans; an' pot air bilin', some- 
 whars." 
 
 So saying, he lighted his short black pipe, and pro- 
 ceeded to make ceremonial motions as he puffed. 
 
 "We might as well take those turquoise, then," as- 
 serted Chet, boldly. "They're valuable. That neck- 
 lace is strung on gold wire." 
 
 "I see," murmured the Professor, inspecting. 
 
 "Cherry and Molly can have it," proffered Phil, 
 quickly. "It'll be a relic, anyhow." 
 
 "Oh, we wouldn't touch it !" cried the girls, shrink- 
 ing back. "Not for worlds." 
 
 "Leave it where it is," pleaded Cherry. "It isn't 
 ours; it's hers. The poor thing, with her beautiful 
 necklace! We've no right to it. Why, I'd feel like 
 a robber!" 
 
 "The necklace would be terribly romantic," fal- 
 tered Molly, breathing quickly. "But I'd feel the 
 same way as Gwen. Please don't disturb her." 
 
 "Faith, no," agreed Flapjack Jim, again crossing 
 himself. " 'Twould be like deshpoilin' a grave. 
 Though," he added, "there be the bowl in her lap. 
 Some o' yez might take that, with the rough shtones 
 in it." 
 
 "I don't want it," claimed Phil, at once. 
 
 "Don't believe I do, either," claimed Chet, slowly 
 his desire hampered by a sense of reverence, now 
 welling to the surface. "Guess we'd better leave 'em 
 all." 
 
 "The bowl would be interesting, as an example of 
 
BONITA PROVES HER SMARTNESS 177 
 
 early pottery," suggested the Professor. "In fact, the 
 whole figure But," he added, "I am perfectly will- 
 ing to leave it undisturbed, if that is the wish of the 
 company." 
 
 "If we meddle with that thar medicine, the whole 
 roof'll fall in on us," declared Grizzly Dan, much in 
 earnest. "This chile thinks we'd better all clean out, 
 quick as ever we can. Pot's a-waitin' outside, an' 
 hyar's a coon as air nigh gone beaver, he air so empty 
 in the meat-bag." 
 
 "Well," assented the Professor, placidly, "the boys 
 can lead us through the channel whereby they entered ; 
 or, all together, we can safely essay one of the other 
 passages." 
 
 "Look out, Professor!" cried Chet, in sudden 
 alarm. "That's a revolving chair. She turns round 
 and round on you." 
 
 "So I observe," commented the Professor, promptly 
 setting the chair in motion. "Remarkable. The slab 
 of stone on which it rests is pivoted. The arrange- 
 ment is not unknown to the ancients and has been em- 
 ployed by them in similar circumstances before." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Cherry and Molly, as the chair 
 and its demure figure slowly spun. 
 
 "Stop her!" vainly protested Chet. And he added, 
 dismayed: "Now we don't know which any of the 
 holes are. Do you, Phil?" 
 
 "Jiminy!" faltered Phil, scanning the circum- 
 ference of the vaulted chamber. "N-no." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 IN THE MOUSETRAP 
 
 "WELL/' said Cherry, brightly, "there are plenty 
 of holes." 
 
 So there were, but they seemed exactly alike. 
 
 "Faith," remarked Flapjack Jim, " 'tis a regular 
 mousetrap, inside out. An' didn't any o' yez mark 
 where yez came in?" 
 
 "Chet and I came in from the left side of the girl, 
 quartering. But we whirled her, before we thought. 
 The Professor's hole was right behind her, until she 
 was whirled again," explained Phil. "Pshaw! Now 
 we've mixed things up." 
 
 "An' can't yez remember your holes, at all?" 
 queried Flapjack Jim, rather accusingly. 
 
 "No. Do you remember yours?" 
 
 Flapjack Jim looked about him, calculating; then 
 he scratched his head. 
 
 "B' gorry, an' I don't believe I do," he confessed 
 sheepishly. 
 
 "Wagh, it air wuss'n a beaver lodge," grumbled 
 Grizzly Dan, glaring at the numerous exits. 
 
 "A very curious arrangement of galleries, evidently 
 planned for a purpose," spoke the Professor. "I 
 suppose that we must try each in turn. Doubtless they 
 all lead to the outer air, but the question would be, 
 
 178 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 179 
 
 which leads the most directly. 'I would scarcely 
 recommend ours, because it is so circuitous that it is 
 very confusing." 
 
 "Ours war a blind trail, crookeder'n a rabbit track 
 in the brush," quoth Grizzly Dan. "An' it war power- 
 ful dark, 'most the time." 
 
 "Praise be, we had a bit of a candle," added Flap- 
 jack Jim; "but no grand lighted ampy-the-ay-ter sich 
 as this wan." 
 
 "Our tunnel is easy, all right," announced Chet. 
 "If we only can find it. We ought to have branded 
 it, on the spot. Aw, we didn't have sense," he de- 
 plored. "And we oughtn't to have whirled that figure 
 
 so." 
 
 "The figure worked precisely as the builders in- 
 tended it should," mused the Professor, with a grati- 
 fied chuckle at the completeness of the artifice. "Very 
 clever. Ahem ! Shall we get to work on our experi- 
 mental search?" 
 
 "There's one hole we'd better not try," alleged Phil. 
 "Stand here in the middle, and keep quiet, and listen." 
 
 So they did. Presently a voice was speaking, but 
 muffled. "Reckon that'll hold 'em for a while. They 
 can't get out without wakin' us if we're asleep." 
 
 Another voice spoke, responding, "Wonder what 
 time it is ?" 
 
 "A good piece after midnight, by the stars." 
 
 And a third voice joined with: "Go to sleep, you 
 fellows. I'll night-herd over this gopher hole. If 
 that old Wild West show or the peg-leg sticks his 
 head out, I'll drop a rock on it. See?" 
 
i8o TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 And they laughed. 
 
 Grizzly Dan, keen of ear and memory, fairly bris- 
 tled. "Wagh !" he grunted, vehemently. "The three 
 hostiles!" And grasping his long rifle he peered 
 around, expectantly eying every hole. 
 
 "Where are they? Is that the Black Man crowd?" 
 exclaimed Cherry and Molly, breathlessly. 
 
 "Yes; but they aren't near," answered Phil. 
 "They're watching at the place where Dan and Jim 
 came in." 
 
 "They air, air they!" commented Grizzly Dan, ir- 
 ritated. "I tell 'ee, they'd better watch their ha'r, 
 too, then. How'd they strike our trail, now, I'd like 
 to know." 
 
 "Guess they saw you come in. We've been hear- 
 ing them, before." 
 
 "Here's the hole for their voices," informed Chet, 
 who from the center had scurried to the outskirts. 
 "You can hear 'em here and in the middle, but you 
 can't hear 'em anywhere else. I'll mark this, you bet," 
 and he scored the half-pillar with his knife. " 'Tisn't 
 the same hole Dan and Jim came out of, though. The 
 holes were different." 
 
 "Same entrance, though, on the outside," asserted 
 Phil. "And they've got that closed up now, accord- 
 ing to the way they talked." 
 
 "Sure, an' they don't know what the inside be like, 
 then," cackled the little one-legged man. "They've 
 got the wan hole, but we've got more than we know 
 what to do with." 
 
 "Yes; but they've got the horses and camp stuff, 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 181 
 
 too/' reported Phil. "Oh !" and a thought struck him. 
 "You didn't see anything of Chet's horse, and mine, 
 did you? They stampeded on us." 
 
 "We did that. Didn't they come throttin' nicely 
 into camp this very afternoon or some afternoon 
 recently, whiniver it was, depindin' on what time 
 we've shpent since under the ground !" answered Jim. 
 "An' didn't we fear lest yez both be lost or shtolen, 
 an' didn't we follow some wan or other into these ould 
 diggin's, for the purpose o' findin' out? By the sign, 
 they must have been the Professor here an' the two 
 gyurls." 
 
 "They have Pepper and Medicine Eye, too, then!" 
 blurted Chet. "What do yuh think o' that!" 
 
 "It seems to me," suggested the Professor, mildly, 
 as he gazed about, as if on a sight-seeing trip, "that 
 we can do no better than to wait here until toward 
 daylight. It is an interesting place and we are com- 
 fortable and er, have a sandwich and a rabbit; and 
 it might be embarrassing to find exit in the darkness, 
 particularly when those unfriendly men are waiting at 
 one of the portals." 
 
 "Thar ! That's sense," approved old Dan, who had 
 been growling querulously over the success of the 
 three hostiles. "Fill meat-bags, say I; fill 'em when 
 you can, an' this air proper time. Wagh! I hain't 
 et since yisterday, 'cept for what few hunks o' jerked 
 stuff I've been chawing, occasional, during night." 
 
 "But it isn't night!" corrected Cherry. "I don't 
 know what makes you all say it's night, when night is 
 past. We went through to day, on the other side of 
 
1 82 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 the world, and either we've come back to day on this 
 side or else it's the same other side and the same day. 
 Anyway, can't you see how light things are, from the 
 sun shining through the ground?" 
 
 "As I've tried to impress upon the girls," informed 
 the Professor, addressing the rest of the company, 
 even to the pups (who were asleep here and there), 
 "this illumination is not the light of day, but rather 
 is an autoluminescence produced by some natural 
 process going on among the material composing the 
 walls and roof of these excavations. Such a phe- 
 nomenon is related to triboluminescence, or light pro- 
 duced by rubbing; thermoluminescence, or light pro- 
 duced by warmth; crystalloluminescence, or light 
 produced by crystallization; er and so forth." 
 
 "He means shine, is all," exclaimed Cherry, con- 
 fidentially. 
 
 "Wagh!" gasped Grizzly Dan, standing with hairy 
 mouth agape while he leaned upon his long rifle. 
 
 "Sure, an' isn't he a grand professor, with all those 
 words, any wan o' which is big enough for a priest !" 
 ejaculated Flapjack Jim, admiringly. 
 
 Brownie the burro, dozing and nodding, sighed as 
 if much bored; whereupon the Professor hastened to 
 conclude. 
 
 "Or, in simple language, we are witnessing an ex- 
 ample of extensive radioactivity." 
 
 "Well, what's that?" blurted Chet. 
 
 "The property of throwing off waves of energy, 
 known or unknown and in this present case made 
 apparent as luminosity, or er, I would say, light." 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 183 
 
 "Like rotten wood, b' jabers!" proffered Flapjack 
 Jim. 
 
 "Or radium!" exclaimed Phil, highly excited. 
 "Maybe we're in a cave of radium!" 
 
 "The luminescence from decaying wood, or other 
 inert matter in such a state, is phosphorescence, or a 
 luminosity due to the action of light," lectured the 
 Professor. "Therefore this present luminosity is 
 not that of decay. And it scarcely is caused by ra- 
 dium" 
 
 "Hyar's a coon who don't savvy lummi-essences or 
 ary other kind o' essences 'cept beaver medicine, which 
 air put on a stick to make beaver come to trap," 
 interrupted Grizzly Dan, impatiently. "So he's 
 goin' to eat. Fust eat, then talk that air correct 
 custom." 
 
 "So say I," supported Cherry. "You can all call 
 it supper, but Molly and I shall call it breakfast. What 
 have we got?" 
 
 "You've got the sandwich," reminded Molly. 
 
 "No," promptly answered Cherry. "I haven't. I 
 gave it to Bonita, while we were coming through the 
 tunnel, so as to encourage her!" 
 
 "Why!" faltered Molly, much astonished. "Is it 
 gone ?" 
 
 "Here's the rabbit," said Chet. "And Dan has 
 some jerked venison." 
 
 "An' Brownie an' I have a morsel o' flour an' the 
 other makin's, for flapjacks in the ould skillet," quoth 
 the merry little one-legged Irishman. "All we lack 
 be the fire an' the wather." 
 
1 84 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Well, this sounds like quite a meal," declared the 
 Professor. 
 
 "We'll have a fire going in a jiffy, if the tunnel 
 timbering isn't too damp to burn," asserted Phil. 
 "Ought to find seepage water enough for the flap- 
 jack batter. Can roast the rabbit, and eat the jerked 
 meat as it is. Or roast it or fry it, too." 
 
 "An' if the timberin' be too damp to burn, faith, 
 then what's the matter with usin' the leg o' me?" 
 cackled Jim. "That's dry, an' well s'asoned." 
 
 However, the timbering was cedar, and to the de- 
 mand made upon it by the searching knives of Phil 
 and Chet it willingly yielded sound, fairly dry chips. 
 No difficulty was met in finding water. Flapjack Jim 
 stumped busily, opening Brownie's compact pack and 
 taking therefrom flour and baking powder and salt 
 and bacon grease and fry-pan. 
 
 "This be the advantage of always travelin' to- 
 gether, Brownie an' I," he volunteered. "I can't carry 
 the flapjacks an' Brownie can't make 'em, but we both 
 do ate 'em an' so we help wan another. See?" As 
 he proceeded to mix the material, in his gold-pan, he 
 sang his "prospector" song: 
 
 "Burro an' pick, burro an' pick, 
 Thryin' the trail o' gettin' rich quick, 
 Lavin* your home an* lavin' your wife 
 Ain't it a tough wan, the prospector's life?" 
 
 "Don't you use milk?" asked Cherry, interested, 
 watching. 
 
 "Only on Brownie's birthday," answered Flapjack 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 185 
 
 Jim. "Now mebbe you'd like to hear Brownie's 
 song. She'll be disapp'inted if ye don't." And he 
 sang it: 
 
 "I'm the faithful animile of a most peculiar shtyle; 
 
 I'm supposed to be a sort o' goat an' bird; 
 Where there's niver trail nor track do I tote the hivvy 
 
 pack, 
 
 An' I sing the swatest carols iver heard: 
 Hee-haw !" 
 
 "Hee-haw!" brayed Brownie, as usual affected by 
 her alleged plea. 
 
 "Mercy!" uttered Cherry, startled. 
 
 "She always comes in shtrong on the chorus," as- 
 sured Flapjack Jim, briskly stirring the batter. 
 
 "How romantic," murmured Molly. 
 
 Under the attentions of the boys and Grizzly Dan 
 the fire, of smokeless cedar, was blazing swiftly, 
 spreading a pleasant aroma and a grateful glow. Now 
 the cavern had been wakened to life all but the 
 silently watching figure in the stone chair; yet of her 
 nobody was afraid. The rabbit had been cleaned, the 
 discarded portions had been carefully divided among 
 the pups (Bonita had had her sandwich!), and the 
 other pieces were being held, upon pointed splinters, 
 over coals. The strips of jerked venison from Griz- 
 zly Dan's little supply were laid out, for selection by 
 anybody that wanted some, and covered with a corner 
 of Flapjack Jim's tarpaulin for of the supper-break- 
 fast preparations Bonita and her family were eager 
 spectators. Brownie had roused to the music of the 
 batter spoon, and was standing with her nose almost 
 
i86 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 upon her master's shoulder. Meanwhile the Professor 
 slowly circled the interior of the vaulted cavern, peer- 
 ing at and fingering the walls. 
 
 "If this were radium," he announced, "I could get 
 enough with one scrape of my finger-nails to supply 
 the world and to make us all rich. But there would 
 not be much left of the fingers and, I think, by this 
 time none of us would be very comfortable." 
 
 But Flapjack Jim had the center of the stage. 
 Having mixed his batter, he fascinated Cherry and 
 Molly by his skill in turning cakes. Several he turned 
 five times; and one, tossed high, he declared turned 
 seven. Even the Professor paused from his scientific 
 circuiting, to remark upon the feat. 
 
 It was indeed a strange and striking spectacle : here 
 in the ancient, sepulchral chamber long tenanted by 
 only that single lifeless figure, a group of travelers 
 old and young, the four dogs and a burro, about a 
 ruddy fire, and a red-headed, one-legged little Irish- 
 man, prospector clad, tossing flapjacks. 
 
 The Professor was called in from his wanderings, 
 and the meal was served while Brownie (with ears 
 flat as menace to the curious dogs) licked the batter 
 pan. 
 
 Each of the three divisions of the company had to 
 relate its adventures. As for Dan and Jim, alarmed 
 by the appearance in their territory of riderless Pepper 
 and Medicine Eye, they had set out to scout for the 
 two boys. Leaving Dan's spotted pony outside, they 
 had entered the tunnel, investigating the tracks of the 
 Professor's party. The tunnel split into several 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 187 
 
 passages, aud before they realized it, they were lost. 
 Meanwhile the three hostiles, spying upon them, must 
 have seized the camp and had also seized the mouth 
 of the tunnel. 
 
 The Professor and Cherry and Molly had entered 
 to escape the storm; they had wandered farther and 
 farther in, until by darkness and twistings they too 
 became lost. In a small chamber dimly lighted by 
 the mysterious white shine that Cherry declared was 
 daylight soaking through and that the Professor was 
 much less successful in explaining, they rested, to 
 await searching squads. 
 
 Phil and Chet had more than anybody to tell : theirs 
 was those other early workings, with the abandoned 
 tools; the king elk; the wonder forest; and the land- 
 slide. The tale drew from Grizzly Dan a succession 
 of "Wagh's !" and from Flapjack Jim many a hearty 
 "Listen to that, will yez!" "Well, I niver!" and so 
 on. But the Professor, examining closely, pronounced 
 the piece of amber to be an inferior variety of fossil 
 resin or gum, and the ruby to be not a true ruby but 
 a clear garnet. Besides, it had been cracked by the 
 heating. 
 
 "Here," said Chet, impulsively, offering a stone to 
 Cherry and one to Molly. "Do you want them ? I've 
 lost all the rest. I'd better get rid of these or I'll 
 lose them, too. Thar's a long trail ahead, yet; 
 wagh!" 
 
 "No ; you keep them, Chet," bade Cherry. "Aren't 
 they valuable?" 
 
 "I'd lose 'em," insisted Chet, flushing. " 'D rather 
 
1 88 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 you and Molly'd have them, anyway. We've got a 
 whole mine of 'em." 
 
 "Yes, they have some value, especially in such a 
 large deposit as he describes," affirmed the Professor. 
 "The small ones may be used as jewels in the works 
 of watches, and those of a quality to be cut as car- 
 buncles would be prized as ornaments. The carbuncle 
 approaches the ruby. It is supposed to shine by its 
 own light." 
 
 "Like these walls!" exclaimed Cherry. 
 
 "Yis; an' accordin' to news o' the same, 'twas by 
 carbuncles that Noah lighted the blissed ark," chirped 
 Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Oh, maybe ours will show us the way out, then," 
 cried Cherry. "Thank you ever so much, Chet. Do 
 they shine in the dark?" 
 
 "Don't reckon so," stammered Chet. "But you can 
 have 'em you and Molly." 
 
 "I'll wear mine. It will always be romantic," de- 
 clared Molly. 
 
 "You can have the rest of these specimens, too," 
 proffered Phil. "Maybe you can make them into 
 brooches or clasps or something. We can't pack 'em 
 'round. Too heavy now. Tear our pockets out." 
 
 "Sure," supported Chet, loyally. "We've forty 
 acres of that shiny stuff," and he fairly swelled his 
 chest. 
 
 "Heap talk about shine; not enough about gettiri' 
 out o' hyar an* liftin' the ha'r o' those thar hostiles," 
 grumbled Grizzly Dan. "That's the only talk to shine 
 with this chile. Wagh !" 
 
IN THE MOUSETRAP 189 
 
 "Maybe they've been listening to us," suggested 
 Cherry, scanning the holes as if looking for faces. 
 
 "Probably not," answered her father. "By cunning 
 arrangement of the rounded pillars at the orifices of 
 these tunnels the sounds from one set are deflected 
 into the other set. Very likely the mouths are paired ; 
 therefore the boys heard us, first, but did not hear 
 from the rest." 
 
 "The sounds bounce off those posts, you mean," 
 hazarded Chet, bluntly. 
 
 "Yes, that's what he means. I know. But he said 
 'deflected' because that's more scientific just like 
 'luminosity' for shine," explained Cherry, with a little 
 nod. "They don't mean any more; they only sound 
 as if they said more." 
 
 "What is the system of this central chamber where 
 one may stand in the center and hear all the sounds, 
 I cannot fathom, yet," continued the Professor, un- 
 ruffled. "But evidently in the tunnels there are 
 sound centers, also possibly where sounds are de- 
 flected across from wall to wall; so that unless a per- 
 son chances to be in the right position, in the interior, 
 he will remain ignorant of conversations elsewhere." 
 
 "Huh!" mumbled Grizzly Dan. "Heap talk. Every 
 one knows this hyar air a medicine cave, fitted up to 
 fool folks with spirit voices. We'd better get out, 
 'fore it tumbles in on us. Question air, which hole 
 to tackle fust." 
 
 "Let Bonita lead us. She was splendid for Cherry 
 and me," proposed Molly. "I loved such a rescue. 
 It ought to go into a story." 
 
190 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "I don't know whether she'll lead out, or not," said 
 Phil, doubtfully. "She might. But there isn't any- 
 body to call her." 
 
 "Now, be-chance we can depind on Brownie," an- 
 nounced the little man with the one leg. "Let me talk 
 to her, wance, explainin'. Sure, 'tis wonderful how 
 shmart she be, whin she has the notion." 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 
 
 THEY had finished eating, and Grizzly Dan had 
 finished his smoke with his short black pipe. Bonita 
 and her pups, having gobbled all the scraps thrown 
 to them, were curled in one bunch, asleep; Brownie 
 the burro stood, head low, ears drooped, comfortably 
 dozing again ; Flapjack Jim scrambled up and stumped 
 to her. 
 
 "Now, darlint," he crooned, laying his arm about 
 her shaggy neck, and speaking into her ear, " 'tis 
 anxious we are to get out o' here, an' mebbe you are 
 the same. It be no place for anywan, you see shut 
 in with a dumb mummy even if she be young an' 
 purty, an' the flour for flapjacks runnin' low. Arrah, 
 come around with me an' shmell the holes, an' when 
 yez get a whisk o' fresh air tell me, darlint but for 
 the love o' the good Peter don't thry any hole that 
 has only the wan end. An' listen, darlint : we wouldn't 
 want to be fetched forninst the end where those three 
 shpalpeens o' whippershnappets be waitin' to hit us 
 with a rock, an' shtale you, my jewel. No. Now 
 come, an' show the ladies an' gintlemen how amazin' 
 shmart yez be." 
 
 So saying, he gently grasped one of Brownie's 
 long, wobbly ears, and impelled her for a round of 
 
 191 
 
192 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 the tunnel openings. On her small, lagging hoofs 
 Brownie methodically accompanied, as if willing but 
 bored. 
 
 "Do you think she understood?" queried Cherry, 
 breathless with interest. 
 
 "Of course not," scoffed Chet "She'd never show 
 it if she did. But burros are smart, though when 
 they want to be." 
 
 "Like cats," agreed Cherry. 
 
 "If I had my old mule hyar, she'd take us out," 
 grunted Grizzly Dan. "She knows more'n I do, does 
 that thar critter o' mine." 
 
 "The instinct of mules has been rated as keener 
 than even that of horses," pronounced the Professor. 
 "And I do not see why the jackass may not be equally 
 as useful in emergency." 
 
 Brownie meekly suffered herself to be led to hole 
 after hole, and conducted partly within. But from 
 each she derived little pleasure or little expectation; 
 and from each alike she drew back. Thus she rather 
 stolidly passed upon or apparently passed upon 
 five of the nine openings. Just what action Flapjack 
 Jim anticipated from her none of the spectators could 
 say; however, they watched, waiting. 
 
 "Is that the wan, darlint?" queried the little man, 
 anxiously, before each hole. "Ah, now," he wheedled ; 
 "take a good shmell an' think it over. It be not, ye 
 say? Well, then, we'll go to the nixt." 
 
 At the sixth he exclaimed triumphantly. "Here's 
 the wan," came his announcement. "She's found the 
 very shpot, hooray! Didn't I tell yez? Kape yore 
 
BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 193 
 
 eye on the hole, all o' yez, so it won't get away an' 
 mix up with the rest of 'em, whilst I pack her in 
 more dacent fashion." 
 
 "How do you know that's the best tunnel?" de- 
 manded Chet. 
 
 "How do I know, yez ask? Don't I know by the 
 figger of her, an' by the nostrils of her, an' by the 
 voice of her?" For Brownie, her head thrust well 
 within the tunnel mouth, was swelling with hearty 
 breaths, and suddenly dispatched into the depths a 
 long "Hee-haw!" 
 
 "There, there!" soothed Flapjack Jim, shoving her 
 back. "Be 'asy, my darlint, jist till we can all get 
 on our fate ready to follow ye. Sure, an' we now 
 know all about it. 'Tis a grand tunnel, entirely, an' 
 ye shall lade us out, like a gineral ladin' his troops 
 to bate the innimy." 
 
 "Wagh ! Might as well try that hole, as any," quoth 
 Grizzly Dan. "Mornin' must be near, an' it air time 
 we war findin' out." 
 
 "Funny crowd, with not a watch in it," observed 
 Phil. 
 
 "I have a watch, but I must have omitted to wind 
 it, for I see that it has stopped," remarked the Pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 "Kape your eye on the hole, kape your eye on the 
 hole," cautioned Flapjack Jim, as with help he worked 
 to lash tight Brownie's pack. 
 
 "I'll stick my arm in it," volunteered Cherry, run- 
 ning across and performing that very act. "I do 
 believe I can feel a sort of draught," she asserted. 
 
i 9 4 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "No doubt all these entrances communicate with 
 the outer air," said her father. "The question is, 
 which is the direct and safe passage." 
 
 "Depind on Brownie," panted the little man, her 
 master. "There, now, my jewel," he addressed, con- 
 ducting her forward by the ear. "Show them how 
 shmart ye be." 
 
 Brownie obediently proceeded into the vault-shaped 
 opening. She did not hurry. Burros never hurry. 
 She stepped with deliberate step, as if conscious of her 
 dignity or as if contrary; dnd half within she halted, 
 blocking the way, while she dispatched down the mys- 
 terious corridor her strident "Hee-haw!" 
 
 She resumed her march ; and falling in behind her, 
 the company followed. At her heels stumped Flap- 
 jack Jim, bearing, as usual, upon his shoulder his old 
 pick. Beside him trod close Grizzly Dan, his moc- 
 casins thudding softly as he must accommodate his 
 long stride to the methodical pace of Brownie. Then 
 walked the two girls. "Goodby, Miss Pretty Indian. 
 I hope that nobody ever disturbs you," bade Cherry 
 to the figure in the chair. The Professor trudged be- 
 hind; and Chet and Phil closed in the rear, save that 
 Bonita and the pups pattered after. 
 
 Glancing back, Phil also bade farewell, but a silent 
 farewell, to the gently illumined chamber where 
 reigned that girlish figure, like a sleeping princess 
 waiting to be wakened. 
 
 The glow extended for a short distance into the 
 tunnel. It gradually decreased. However, a dusky 
 half-light persisted still, and they all might grope 
 
BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 195 
 
 along carefully, until at last Flapjack Jim applied 
 match to his candle bit. 
 
 "This isn't our tunnel," declared Chet to Phil. "At 
 least, don't think it is." 
 
 "That's hard to tell," answered Phil. "All tunnels 
 look alike to me. Especially dark ones !" 
 
 "If it's our tunnel, we'll all come out into day, 
 pretty soon, where Papa and Molly and I sat so long. 
 That is, unless we come out into night, instead. Be- 
 cause if it's day on one side of the world, it's night 
 on the other," prattled Cherry. 
 
 "We must watch for sandwich crumbs," responded 
 Molly. 
 
 "But there weren't any crumbs," objected Cherry. 
 "Not one. We didn't leave any, and I'm sure Bonita 
 didn't. She swallowed her sandwich whole." 
 
 Occasionally Brownie paused and sighed. They 
 all respectfully waited upon her pleasure. Burros 
 are fond of pausing, and Brownie was not to be 
 crossed. 
 
 Presently she made a more decided stop. Grizzly 
 Dan uttered an exclamation, and holding his candle 
 forward, to one side, Flapjack Jim peered. Peered 
 also Grizzly Dan, his shaggy head, under its flapping- 
 brimmed hat, grotesquely outlined. 
 
 " 'Tis another tunnel, or the like," announced Flap- 
 jack Jim to the company behind. And he addressed 
 Brownie : "Be 'asy, darlint. Take your time, an' con- 
 sider well. Wan, two, four, siven, twelve we be, 
 depindin' on ye: yis, five men, two gyurls, an* five 
 dogs. Take your time." 
 
196 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 With a snorty sigh, as if weaned of her master's 
 endearing terms, Brownie turned in. All followed. 
 
 The new tunnel continued similar to the first, with 
 timbered walls and ceiling, upon which the flicker of 
 Flapjack Jim's feeble candle-flame cast strange shad- 
 ows. Soon Brownie stopped short again, before an- 
 other opening. 
 
 "That's right, darlint," encouraged her master. 
 "Consider, consider. Nobody's pressin' ye." 
 
 But after thrusting in her head, and sniffing loudly, 
 with another snorty sigh, this time as if in contempt, 
 Brownie passed the opening by. 
 
 The march seemed interminable. Side openings 
 recurred, ever and anon; all of them Brownie sys- 
 tematically investigated, only to discard the great 
 majority. However, she selected two enough so 
 that Chet grew alarmed. 
 
 "Jiminy !" he muttered to Phil. "We're plumb lost, 
 for sure, now. It would be a great joke if she smelt 
 those hostiles and was leading us into them!" 
 
 "I should say!" agreed Phil. 
 
 So long was the way, with so many turns, and so 
 slow was Brownie, that anxiety more and more per- 
 meated the little column trudging bravely through the 
 dimness. Should Brownie fail them, then they cer- 
 tainly were in serious plight. 
 
 "Wagh!" grumbled Grizzly Dan, ominously. "We 
 got meat a-plenty, anyhow. An' if this critter doesn't 
 live up to 'greement, we'd better eat her fust 'fore she 
 walks herself thin." 
 
 "Arrah!" protested Flapjack Jim, in distress. 
 
BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 197 
 
 "Don't be after talkin' it so she can hear. Yez'll make 
 her nervous. Sure, won't the puppies be a nice ten- 
 derer dish? O' course they will." 
 
 "No, we mustn't eat them!" besought Cherry. "I 
 haven't even got acquainted with them yet and 
 Bonita guided us beautifully." 
 
 "It would be more romantic to starve than to eat 
 a burro," quavered Molly. 
 
 "At the point of starvation, food of any description 
 appeals," instructed the Professor. "But I don't be- 
 lieve we shall be put to such straits. Isn't it growing 
 lighter, ahead?" 
 
 "Yis!" cried Flapjack Jim, jubilantly. "Hooray! 
 I see daylight! Rale daylight, an' none o' ye's 
 'essences or 'osities. Daylight, b' gorry!" And he 
 blew out his candle. 
 
 "Sh!" bade Grizzly Dan. "Too much talk. Hold 
 foot, shut mouth, whilst I take a look." 
 
 On rapid, noiseless soles he slipped forward. Come 
 to a standstill, huddled and panting, they waited. 
 
 Truly, before was a rounded, whitely opening 
 orifice that might well be an exit into the outer world 
 of day. It was yet distant; but now grouped the little 
 party could see one another's faces. 
 
 "Maybe it's only another of those light places like 
 the ones we've been in," suggested Chet under his 
 breath. 
 
 "No; it appears more like genuine daylight," de- 
 clared the Professor. 
 
 "Oh, I hope so !" murmured Cherry. 
 
 "Of course it's daylight; ain't it, darlint!" spoke 
 
198 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Flapjack Jim, his arm about Brownie's woolly 
 neck. "An' they talked o' 'atin' ye the ungrateful 
 crathers !" 
 
 Grizzly Dan's rapidly moving figure was now and 
 again outlined, as pressing against the wall he must 
 round an occasional angle. All eyes were fastened 
 upon him ; stealing forward more cautiously, he neared 
 the goal. Bonita, ears erect, nose sniffing, whined. 
 
 "Be quiet, Bonita!" ordered Phil, tersely. 
 
 Brownie drooped her long-eared head, and dozed. 
 
 Grizzly Dan had reached the opening. They could 
 see him upon hands and knees, stretching his neck, to 
 survey. His head projected through the orifice his 
 shoulders and body followed; and he squatted, out- 
 side, craning right and left. He made a comical 
 silhouette, but the moment was too intensely critical 
 for anybody to snigger. 
 
 He deftly reentered, and with repeated wave of 
 fringed arm against the whity background motioned 
 the expectant company to come out. Evidently all 
 was well. A universal sigh of great relief was 
 uttered. 
 
 "There !" said Cherry. "Mister Dan says to come." 
 
 "Didn't I tell yez? Didn't I tell yez?" insisted 
 Flapjack Jim. "On with ye, Brownie, into the blessed 
 daylight. Sure ye ought to be pensioned on flapjacks 
 all the rest o' ye's life!" And "Wait! 'Asy, now," 
 he addressed to the rest, who were crowding eagerly. 
 "Give her the post o' honor, won't yez? Would yez 
 pass her an* lave her to the rear, after she be openin' 
 the thrail for yez ? An' she a lady, too !" 
 
BROWNIE TO THE FRONT 199 
 
 At a rousing slap upon the flank Brownie had re- 
 sumed her methodical pace. Humoring Flapjack 
 Jim, they proceeded in the same order as before. 
 
 "That's snow!" exclaimed Phil, now as they ap- 
 proached the exit, which widened by nearness. "Huh !" 
 
 "Huh!" echoed Chet. 
 
 With everybody peering, and with even Brownie 
 aroused so that she jutted forward her rabbity ears, 
 they arrived at the opening. 
 
 Yes, it was the exit. As one by one they emerged, 
 Grizzly Dan was awaiting them. He was standing 
 leaning upon Sally, his long flintlock rifle, while with 
 slowly turning head he scanned the landscape. 
 
 They emerged into snow, and into early morning. 
 The snow extended above, is extended also the slope 
 of the mountain until it was obscured by a layer of 
 a cloud. Not deep, here, was the snow; and below it 
 soon ceased, so that they must be on the edge of it. 
 The sun had not yet risen, but the east was betokened 
 by a margin of pink, outlining darkly wooded hills. 
 The night had passed. 
 
 Wan of face, in the white light, after the anxiety 
 of the vigils in the old workings, they all stared about. 
 
 "Where are we, anyway?" demanded Chet. "This 
 chile's plumb lost again." 
 
 "Must be somewhere on Red Chief, still," reasoned 
 Phil. 
 
 "Wagh !" grunted old Dan. He pointed. "Smoke ! 
 See it? Thar air those three hostiles, I bet J ee." 
 
 "Faith, then, we've come out above them!" cackled 
 Flapjack Jim. "They be shtill a-watchin' at the same 
 
200 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 ould hole! Do ye see, Brownie, how shmart ye 
 were?" 
 
 "Well, I'll be jiggered," said Chet. "Isn't this 
 great?" 
 
 From a spot distant half a mile or more, and 
 diagonally below, smoke like thin camp-fire smoke 
 was wafting upward above red rocks and stunted, 
 sparse cedars. 
 
 "I declare!" exclaimed the Professor. "We've 
 builded better than we knew. But the question is, 
 exactly where are we?" 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 
 
 "WHERE could we be, but on old Red Chief?" re- 
 plied Grizzly Dan. "Heap medicine he air, too. 
 We've gone right through him, or through part of 
 him. Up yon, higher than those clouds, air his head. 
 An' across, to the south'ard, air Warrior Peak. I 
 know. Can't fool this coon, when he's atop the ground 
 agin. He air a mountain man, he air." 
 
 "That's right," mused Phil, wonderingly, to Chet. 
 "Guess the high place, beyond the timber, is Warrior, 
 though I didn't recognize it." 
 
 "Looking at it from a different angle," hazarded 
 Chet. 
 
 "What, then, had we better do?" invited the Pro- 
 fessor. "The boys in camp ought to be notified as 
 quickly as possible. They will be alarmed, and look- 
 ing for us." 
 
 "Ought to fill meat-bags. That's fust," pronounced 
 Grizzly Dan, with his customary suggestion. "Only 
 hain't got much to fill 'em with. Now, if you all '11 
 jest cache yoreselves 'tother side that little rise, this 
 coon thinks he'll take a pasear down an' reconnoiter 
 that hostile camp an' see if he can't get a hos or two, 
 an' his pot." 
 
 "But wouldn't ye be after waitin' for a bite o' flap- 
 
 201 
 
202 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 jack?" queried Jim, earnestly. "Sure, they only need 
 the makin' of 'em, an' they would taste powerful 
 good." 
 
 "Pot meat, that's the fodder we ought to have; pot 
 meat," rebuked Grizzly Dan, severely. And he 
 wagged his beard. "Somethin' to chaw on. Hyar's 
 a chile as is nigh gone for taste o' beaver tail or 
 buff'ler hump, or " and he hesitated, "other critter 
 that goes to pot. But flapjacks wagh! He air no 
 burro. Besides, 'tain't safe to stir much till we know 
 what those 'ere hostiles are up to. Jest cache yore- 
 selves as I said an' I'll do a little scoutin', an' pass 
 word to my old pony an' mule; mebbe get pot." 
 
 "All right. Let's do as he says. Come on," pro- 
 posed Chet. 
 
 The exit from the tunnel was in the side of a low, 
 rounded back or swell of the mountain slope. Con- 
 tinuing from it the swell subsided and soon merged, 
 above, with the slope itself. Plodding across a low 
 place in it, upon the opposite side the party found 
 opened to their gaze a long, shallow draw falling 
 away in a brushy, rocky stretch to a valley far down. 
 Glancing back from the top of the miniature divide 
 that they traversed, Phil witnessed Grizzly Dan strid- 
 ing off, lean rifle upon shoulder, moccasins directed 
 straight for descent to the camp-fire smoke, and head 
 still wagging as if filled with defense of his beloved 
 pot. 
 
 So the darkness was over and gone, and from the 
 night of the tunnels as well as from the real night 
 enveloping all things they had emerged into another 
 
GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 203 
 
 day. The snow was the snow deposited by the storm 
 of the noon before a storm that seemed long ago. 
 In penetrating through the section of the mountain 
 they had constantly ascended ; and thus they had come 
 out higher; for below, as said, was the bared slope, 
 containing the holes by which the workings had been 
 entered. 
 
 The sun was just about to flare into view above 
 those misty crests which comprised, among other 
 things, according to Grizzly Dan, the prone figure of 
 Warrior Peak. Upon the farther side of the little 
 back or rise the party halted, here to wait concealed 
 from the eyes of the camp-fire tenders. Rocks up- 
 jutting offered seats. Brownie immediately began to 
 crop brush and weeds. Bonita and her family shiv- 
 ered; the air, not yet modified by the sun, was chill. 
 
 "Poor puppies/' sympathized Cherry. "Come 
 here; I want to get acquainted with you." 
 
 "They're half black wolf," explained Phil, proudly. 
 
 "Wagh! Regular Injun dogs," grunted Chet. 
 
 "Will they bite?" 
 
 "No. But their father is some black wolf, just 
 the same. This one's Limpy; foot hurt. The one 
 without any white spot is Nig. That fat one's Woof, 
 and the shaggy one is Rags. They " 
 
 "Look!" cried Chet, gazing down the long, shallow 
 draw, which was turning pink in the reflection of the 
 imminent sun. "I see more people. Three of 'em!" 
 
 All did look, scanning earnestly the reddish slope, 
 rock and brush mottled. 
 
 "Right you are, my boy," confirmed Flapjack Jim, 
 
204 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 squinting to peer. "Be they friends or hostiles, now, 
 I wonder?" 
 
 "I see them/' also announced Phil. "Three. 
 School-of-mines fellows, aren't they?" 
 
 It seemed to him that even at the distance he could 
 distinguish the sombreros, blue shirts, and corduroys 
 and laced boots. 
 
 "Where? We don't see anybody. Where?" im- 
 plored Cherry, excited. "I'd just as soon it would 
 be the school-of -mines boys now. You've beat them." 
 
 "Maybe we'd better make a noise fire a gun, say, 
 to attract their attention," suggested the Professor. 
 "They probably are searching for us." 
 
 "N-no; let's wait till we're sure," answered Chet, 
 his keen blue eyes fixed upon the moving forms yet 
 indistinct. "Might be somebody else." 
 
 "It would be a joke if they were those three hos- 
 tiles," said Phil, chuckling at the thought. "Then 
 Grizzly Dan would lift their whole camp." 
 
 "Huh!" agreed Chet. 
 
 Intent, they waited. The Professor and the two 
 girls now had sighted the trio, who, gradually ascend- 
 ing, were likewise gradually approaching. 
 
 "They are!" exclaimed Phil, gladly. "They are 
 some of the school-of-mines fellows. They're wear- 
 ing the same rig, anyhow. They've got a burro." 
 
 "Reckon you're right," murmured Chet. "Front 
 one looks like Dick." 
 
 "Let's give them a yell, all together," proposed the 
 Professor. 
 
 "Ah, now, hould off a bit, say I," cautioned Flap- 
 
GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 205 
 
 jack Jim. "A yell be har-rd to shtop, ye know; an' 
 while it be travelin' in wan direction it be travelin' 
 in the other, where Dan is headin'." 
 
 "Yes," supported Chet, quickly. "Don't let's yell. 
 I'll go down." 
 
 And down he strode. 
 
 "Well, we can wave, anyway," declared Cherry; 
 and thereupon she snatched her handkerchief from 
 her neck and, wildly dancing, flourished it. The Pro- 
 fessor flourished his hat. 
 
 Chet made rapid progress, lessening the distance 
 between him and the upward trudging figures. He 
 appeared to hasten more and more fearlessly. 
 
 "It's they, all right," again pronounced Phil, con- 
 vinced. 
 
 "Yes. See? He recognizes them," confirmed 
 Cherry. 
 
 For Chet, pausing and clambering upon a rock, 
 was waving his hand. He beckoned. The figures 
 responded. He awaited their arrival. Presently they 
 joined him, and shook hands vigorously with him. 
 Then, gazing where he pointed, they waved to the 
 party above ; and the four of them, with packed burro, 
 pressed on. 
 
 "It's Mister Dick and Mister Fat and Mister Jinks," 
 proclaimed Cherry. "I'm glad. I think I like them 
 the best of all." 
 
 "Such a romantic meeting, again," breathed Molly. 
 "At dawn, on the mighty mountain-side, after a night 
 of peril." 
 
 "Faith," laughed Flapjack Jim, "I would take a 
 
206 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 little liss romance an' a little more comfort, bedad! 
 The wooden leg o' me is half frozen, an' I be empty 
 clane to the ind of it." 
 
 The four figures were drawing near. More wav- 
 ings were exchanged. 
 
 "Hello," called Cherry, clearly. "You're too late. 
 We're rescued." 
 
 "So we see. Well, we did the best we could," 
 panted Dick, cheerily. "Mighty glad somebody res- 
 cued you. That was the important point," and in a 
 broad grin of delight he shook hands all round, not 
 omitting Flapjack Jim. "How are you all? Hungry? 
 Tired?" 
 
 Fat and Jinks also shook hands all round. 
 
 "Hello, Professor." 
 
 "Thought you were eaten by bears, sure." 
 
 "We kept a fire going for you." 
 
 "Then we started out again early this morning." 
 
 "Had breakfast?" 
 
 "Here's some milk chocolate, as a first-aid pack- 
 age." 
 
 "Oh, goody!" cried Cherry. 
 
 "Was it romantic enough for you, Miss Molly?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "We've been in a perfectly splendid cave," an- 
 nounced Cherry. 
 
 "Where are the other boys?" asked the Pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 "They're farther along," answered Dick. "We 
 split up into parties when we left camp, so as to spread 
 out. Didn't know but that we'd have to carry some 
 
GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 207 
 
 of you. Guess we can make some of them hear. Give 
 them the yell, fellows. Now all together : 
 
 "'Rah! 'Rah! M-I-N-E-S! 
 Mines! Mines! Mines!" 
 
 Before they could be cautioned, the draw echoed 
 with the ringing college yell, to which Cherry and 
 Molly and the Professor contributed their voices also. 
 Brownie was startled, and Bonita and the pups pricked 
 their ears. 
 
 "Hurray!" responded another hearty cheer. 
 
 Over the top of the little ridge beyond which lay 
 the exit from the workings appeared several som- 
 brero-crowned heads and blue-flannel shoulders. 
 Down trooped their owners, to swell the school-of- 
 mines crew. They also brought a packed burro. 
 There was more greeting and shaking of hands. 
 
 After having sat up on watch, by turns, all night, 
 and having kept a fire going, the school-of-mines boys 
 had started out again at daybreak upon further search. 
 
 "When you and your partner didn't come back," 
 said Dick to Phil, "we thought sure that something 
 bad had happened to you and to the Professor's party 
 too, Indians had captured you, or a bear eaten you, 
 you know," and he laughed. "The mountain was 
 swallowing people as fast as they went out on it." 
 
 So this time the camp divided into squads, each 
 taking a burro packed with emergency supplies, and 
 kept in touch while it set forth to climb to the snow 
 and examine that for tracks. Then followed the 
 happy reunion. 
 
208 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Shall we yell for that other bunch? They'll be 
 still looking, if they didn't hear," suggested Fat. 
 
 "No; I can see 'em. They see me," called back 
 Jinks, who had hastily mounted the ridge again, recon- 
 noitering. He waved and swung his hat. "Here 
 they come. And somebody else, too, off in that other 
 direction. One man." 
 
 "Walking or riding?" queried Chet. 
 
 "Walking. Stick, or gun, over his shoulder. And 
 something he's packing something." 
 
 "That must be old Dan. Jiminy! Didn't he get 
 any hawsses?" exclaimed Chet. And followed by 
 Phil he ran up to the top of the ridge, whence was 
 gazing Jinks. 
 
 Sure enough, Grizzly Dan was returning, plodding 
 along the snow, and bent forward to balance an object 
 slung from his rifle-barrel, across his shoulder. He 
 was making best speed, as if anxious to arrive. From 
 the opposite direction were approaching the remainder 
 of the school-of -mines camp the third squad, with 
 a burro. 
 
 The eyes of Phil and Chet were interested chiefly 
 in old Dan. 
 
 "Is it he ?" asked Cherry from the crowd below. 
 
 "Yes; it's he, all right," replied Phil. 
 
 "Who's he?'" invited the curly-headed Jinks. 
 
 "Grizzly Dan. The other member of our prospect- 
 ing gang," explained Phil. 
 
 "Miner?" 
 
 "No; old trapper." 
 
 "Oh, he's the man who fought a duel with that old 
 
GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 209 
 
 Cheyenne, last summer, when you folks all were cor- 
 ralled by the Indians, is he?" said Jinks, with lively 
 curiosity. 
 
 "He shore is," responded Chet. "He went down 
 to spy on that camp where that smoke is, and to see 
 if he couldn't get oiir hawsses back, maybe. Those 
 three fellows have our hawsses, we think. But he 
 didn't get any, I reckon." 
 
 "No ; but I tell you what that is, on his rifle !" cried 
 Phil. "It's his pot! He's got his pot, anyhow!" 
 And Phil laughed until he doubled over. 
 
 "Aw !" grinned Chet, ready to laugh also. 
 "Wouldn't that kill yuh !" 
 
 "Great stunt," commented Jinks. 
 
 Yes, the brass pot it was. The rays of the risen 
 sun flashed upon its familiar battered round sides. 
 Now old Dan came panting along. The two boys 
 his partners ran down to meet him, as he reached the 
 ridge. They found him quite out of breath. 
 
 "'I tell J ee," he wheezed, "I tell 'ee, this coon air 
 nigh gone under." 
 
 "Here. Let us take it. We'll carry it over," in- 
 sisted Chet and Phil, together. They removed the 
 pot from old Dan's rifle-barrel. He willingly allowed 
 them. "Gee, but it's heavy," proffered Chet. 
 
 "Hot, too!" ejaculated Phil, startled. "Wow!" 
 
 "She air full o' meat, boy; she air full o' meat," 
 wheezed old Dan, proudly. "Couldn't get hos or 
 mule, but I got pot, an' I air powerful glad. The 
 meat air cooked an' we all can fall right to an' eat 
 proper, agin. Wagh!" 
 
210 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Did you see the hawsses? Any of them?" asked 
 Chet 
 
 "Those were the three hostiles, were they, then?" 
 queried Phil. 
 
 "Sartin, sartin," assured old Dan, as now they pro- 
 ceeded on to cross to the other side of the little ridge, 
 the two boys carrying the pot between them. It was 
 half filled with a thick stew of meat, still steaming. 
 
 "Sartin," assured old Dan. "I recognized 'em, 
 long 'fore I war near to 'em. The Black Man, an' 
 the Cross-eyed Man, and the Man with the Scar. 
 They war gettin' breakfast when I arrove but I 
 warn't invited" (and old Dan chuckled) " 'cause I 
 warn't seen. They war gettin' breakfast in front o' 
 the hole whar Jim an' I, an' I reckon the Professor- 
 man an' those thar two gals, had entered in. Hosses, 
 my pony an' yore three hosses, an' two for them, an' 
 my old mule, war picketed out, little way below, whar 
 thar's grass in a holler. They war picketed so strong 
 nobody could break 'em loose without cuttin' rope. 
 But my old mule smelled me, she did, an' wagh! 
 she cut a caper an' made a snortin', she did ; an' down 
 they all come, runnin'. Then only thing I could do 
 war to run other way, 'round up to camp, lift pot from 
 fire, an' move moccasins mighty fast, I tell 'ee ! Yes, 
 sir. Pot 'most set me on fire, too, it was so plaguey 
 hot. S'pose," mused Grizzly Dan, apologetic, "I 
 mought have lain by an' lifted ha'r from the whole 
 bunch. Sally an' I could have wiped 'em out, com- 
 plete; an' we'd had cntters an' pot too. But," he con- 
 tinued, " 'tain't hardly human to do that, nowadays. 
 
GRIZZLY DAN'S BOOTY 211 
 
 Killin' folks air a pore business. So I tuk pot an' left 
 critters. If I'd tuk critters I'd have had to leave pot. 
 It war a problem, either way you put it. I air terrible 
 fond o' this pot, 'specially when it's on the fire, ready 
 to fill meat-bags." 
 
 It seemed to Phil that the horses were rather the 
 more important item, but Grizzly Dan had probably 
 done the very best that he could. They had crossed 
 the little ridge, and were bearing down upon the com- 
 pany gathered at its farther foot. The third detach- 
 ment of the school-of-mines camp had joined the com- 
 pany, and with the arrival of old Dan the count would 
 be complete. Old Dan jubilantly heralded ahead. 
 
 "Hyar's meat in pot, ready for the teeth," he an- 
 nounced gleefully. 
 
 "Hooray!" cheered the little Irishman. "An' ain't 
 we the fortunate wans, though !" 
 
 "Couldn't get critters," proclaimed old Dan, ex- 
 cited by the number of his audience receiving him, 
 "but got pot which air -'most as necessary. You 
 can't ride unless meat-bag air 'tended to ; an' pot eatin'" 
 air the only proper eatin'. Wagh!" 
 
 "We've brought plenty of stuff, in those packs," 
 said Dick to Chet and Phil. "Grub and blankets and 
 everything." 
 
 "This pot has breakfast in it, thanks," answered 
 Phil. "Enough for the Professor and the girls, too, 
 if they want it." 
 
 "Of course we want it," declared Cherry and Molly. 
 "Is it warm?" 
 
 "Right off the fire," grinned Chet, as he and Phil 
 
212 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 carefully set the precious pot down and the crowd 
 pressed to peep into it. "See it steam?" 
 
 "Did Mr. Dan take it that way?" 
 
 "It war bilin'," informed Grizzly Dan, much elated 
 at the attention being bestowed upon him. 
 
 "It certainly smells tempting," remarked the Pro- 
 fessor, sniffing as if suddenly aroused to the situation. 
 
 "Wait. We'll get some plates for you, anyway/' 
 offered Dick. And he directed: "They're in that 
 right-hand pannier, Fat. Spoons and forks, too." 
 
 "Won't yez join us?" politely queried Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "No, thank you. We've had breakfast. How 
 about coffee? Here's some cold coffee we brought 
 along. Shall we heat it up?" 
 
 "No time, thank 'ee," asserted Grizzly Dan. "Soon 
 as we can fill meat-bags we must be movin'." He 
 nimbly climbed the little ridge and peered over. 
 "Yep; jest as I thought. Those thar hostiles air 
 breakin' camp, by reason o' my takin' that pot; an' 
 I 'xpec' they know 'tain't ary use to watch the hole 
 longer. We must beat 'em to the top." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 
 
 "JIMINY!" exclaimed Chet, immediately much 
 alarmed. "Let's not eat breakfast; let's go right up! 
 Come on!" 
 
 "Ah, sure, now," wheedled the one-legged little 
 Irishman, concerned, "aren't the rist of us near fam- 
 ished, clane from ind to ind ? 'Twould be temptin' the 
 good Providence to lave a pot o' meat like this wan; 
 an' the 'asiest way to carry it be to dishtribute the con- 
 tints amongst us." 
 
 "Fust eat, then go," directed Grizzly Dan, returned. 
 "Empty meat-bag can't carry full pot, but full meat- 
 bag can carry empty pot. Wagh !" 
 
 So saying he grabbed a tin dish and spoon and 
 began hurriedly to ladle out the stew. 
 
 "That's right," said Dick. "Fall to, you people. 
 Here are dishes. We'll help serve." 
 
 He passed a plateful to Cherry and Molly; the Pro- 
 fessor likewise was served, by Jinks; the boys and 
 Flapjack Jim served themselves. 
 
 "We won't try to get the animals or our camp 
 stuff?" hazarded Phil, busily munching. 
 
 "No time," mumbled Grizzly Dan. "Later." 
 
 "Good-by to our claim, and those elk horns, then," 
 said Chet. "But I don't care." 
 
 "We can outfit you with grub and bedding and 
 
 213 
 
214 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 stuff; and I guess we can spare you a burro, to pack 
 it," proffered Dick. "Can't we, Professor?" 
 
 "By all means," endorsed the Professor. "What- 
 ever we have is theirs." 
 
 "Open up the packs, fellows, and overhaul 'em," 
 bade Dick. "Make a new pack, for three. You've 
 your own stuff, enough, haven't you?" he asked of 
 Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "I have," nodded Flapjack Jim. "Enough for me 
 an' for anywan else as long as it lasts." 
 
 "A pack for three!" cried Cherry. "But aren't we 
 going?" 
 
 "Oh, are you?" uttered Chet and Phil, surprised. 
 
 "No," answered Grizzly Dan, scraping his plate 
 emptied for the third time. "It air a long trail; no 
 place for young squaws." 
 
 "I have no intention of letting them go," announced 
 the Professor. 
 
 "But we aren't squaws," retorted Cherry. "We 
 told you that last summer, Mr. Dan. And we want 
 to help find the Trapper's Mine ; don't we, Molly ?" 
 
 "It would be such a romantic quest," declared 
 Molly, her pensive oval face flushing at the delightful 
 picture. 
 
 "How about this assortment? It will help you out, 
 won't it?" queried Dick of old Dan and the boys. 
 
 "Wagh!" approved Grizzly Dan, slowly champing 
 as he surveyed. Through his hairy countenance he 
 fairly beamed, but with much dignity he shook Dick's 
 hand. "Help? It'll help powerful, 'specially the 
 beddin'. Reckon we mought kill meat enough 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 215 
 
 (though coffee or tea air tremendous tasty to an old 
 man like me), but one man's beddin' would be power- 
 ful scant for four, up on this hyar mountain." 
 
 "Yes, b' jabers, even if wan of us could shtick 
 a leg outside an' save space," cackled the little man, 
 merrily. "But now we be well fixed, an' thanks to 
 yez." 
 
 "We shore are," said Phil and Chet, heartily. 
 "Much obliged." 
 
 "Don't mention it," replied Dick. "We'll be start- 
 ing back home, to-day or to-morrow, and we've got 
 more stuff than we need." 
 
 One of the burros was packed, Chet and Phil lend- 
 ing a hand whenever practicable. 
 
 "You be a scientific man," they heard Flapjack Jim 
 say to the Professor. "What do ye think o' this bit 
 o' float, may I ask?" It was a piece of the bricky 
 rock, token (according to belief) of the rich outcrop 
 above. 
 
 The Professor turned it about, wet it with his 
 tongue, weighed it in his hand, and examined it with 
 a pocket microscope. The boys suspended operations, 
 to await the opinion. 
 
 "That," pronounced the Professor, at last, "is a 
 red oxide of iron, and, I suspect, very richly laden 
 with gold. As a free-milling ore, in any quantity, 
 it would be a bonanza." 
 
 "Well," sedately informed the little Irishman, 
 "that's our mine, I'm thinkin'. Do yez all wonder 
 we be in sich a hurry?" 
 
 "Hardly!" agreed Bob, the other school-of-mines 
 
2i6 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 senior, as the float passed rapidly from hand to hand. 
 "Ore like that can be taken out in sacks, and washed 
 in sluices, or put right through the mill and separated. 
 Values ought to run well up into the thousands, 
 oughtn't they, Professor?" 
 
 "As high as ten thousand dollars to the ton, per- 
 haps," responded the Professor. 
 
 "Whew!" whistled Dick. "You can afford to let 
 your petrified forest claim wait awhile," he said to 
 Phil. 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars to the ton," repeated the Pro- 
 fessor. "But " and he spoke impressively, "these 
 are surface indications. Don't build your hopes too 
 high." 
 
 "Faith," laughed Flapjack Jim, "if these be the 
 grass-roots indications, when we go deeper mebbe we'll 
 shtrike it richer shtill! Who knows?" 
 
 "Nobody," admitted the Professor, promptly. "The 
 prospector always expects to 'strike it richer still.' 
 That's the trouble." 
 
 "Right you be," laughed Flapjack Jim. "Haven't 
 I been expectin' for fifty years? Now I fale in my 
 bones that we're close on the thrack o' the biggest 
 bonanza iver found. Hooray an' hooroo! Here be 
 the float to prove it; an' a map to go by, sich as it is. 
 But the mine be there!" 
 
 "Ketch up, ketch up!" ordered Grizzly Dan. 
 "Everything ready. Time we war movin'. Adios to 
 'ee all, an' thank 'ee." 
 
 He started the borrowed burro. 
 
 "We're off," bubbled Flapjack Jim. "Come, 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 217 
 
 Brownie, Would ye let that other crather beat ye? 
 Good-by," he called gaily. "When we open up the 
 bonanza we'll be rememberin' yez all. An' soon we'll 
 invite yez to a grand dinner, an' serve flapjacks on 
 goulden plates, b' gorry!" 
 
 "Yes, you'll be in on this," amidst the leave-taking 
 asserted Phil, for Flapjack Jim's enthusiasm was con- 
 tagious. "You've grub-staked us." 
 
 "It'll be Medicine Elk Mine Number Two," added 
 Chet. "We'll reserve Number One till we have time 
 to find it again. Maybe we won't want it." 
 
 "Adios," and "Good luck," and "So long," and 
 "Goodby," responded everybody. 
 
 "1 wish we were going," pouted Cherry. "We 
 don't go anywhere!" Which, to tell the truth, was 
 (as the present location itself would indicate) a very 
 exaggerated statement. 
 
 So they were off again, upon the gold-seeker's trail : 
 Phil and Chet, of the Bar B cow-range and the Circle 
 K sheep range and the white Injun camp in the Old 
 Four-Toes region; Grizzly Dan, the venerable moun- 
 tain man and trapper; Flapjack Jim, the one-legged 
 prospector and merry Irishman; Brownie, his com- 
 panionable burro; the borrowed burro; and the 
 faithful Bonita and her family. 
 
 Grizzly Dan, driving the burrowed burro, led; 
 Flapjack Jim, driving Brownie, followed; behind 
 trudged Chet and Phil, with the five dogs soberly 
 stringing in the rear of all. 
 
 Glancing back to wave, Phil saw that the school-of- 
 mines party were making ready to descend the moun- 
 
218 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 tain, for their camp. Cherry and Molly, gazing after 
 the treasure hunters, wildly flourished their handker- 
 chiefs at him, and he signaled reply. He rather 
 wished that they had come. They were trumps, for 
 girls. 
 
 "Coin* to get in more trouble, if we don't watch 
 sharp/' called Grizzly Dan. "The mountain's medi- 
 cine air strong agin' us, still." 
 
 "Mebbe it's only a thin, shmall layer, an' we'll pass 
 right through it an' see the white cross o' the mine 
 shinin' bright an' beautiful ahead," cheerily claimed 
 the little Irishman. 
 
 The sun was well up, streaming warm across the 
 snowy incline. The snow was not deep, the incline 
 was not steep but steady; behind, stretched wide 
 and far, below snow line, the reddish base, to- 
 ward which the school-of -mines party now were rap- 
 idly descending. Beyond the base outreached the 
 rugged Lost Park, watched over by Warrior Peak in 
 the distance. But before, whither they themselves 
 were making, the way was cut short by a curtain of 
 motionless cloud. 
 
 "Shucks!" grumbled Chet. "Same cloud-cap that 
 was here yesterday. Must be a big one." 
 
 "We can get above it, if we keep going." 
 
 "Can if it doesn't reach clear beyond the tip." 
 
 Now a rifle shot rang thinly, as if from afar. The 
 march briefly paused, listening; and proceeding on, 
 Grizzly Dan chuckled. 
 
 "Wagh! Those thar hostiles air huntin' meat, to 
 take place o' what skedaddled, pot an' all!" 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 219 
 
 Nobody made reply. By the direction and the 
 sound of the shot, it was evident that the three rivals 
 for the Frapp Mine were climbing, too. The march 
 must be urged with vigor, if a party afoot would beat 
 a party ahorse. And how far ahead lay the saddle 
 where the mine was marked on the map, who might 
 tell, with this cloud-cap intervening? 
 
 The sun paled, and the air grew chill. 
 
 "Now we're getting into it," said Chet. 
 
 "Just like a fog," commented Phil. "Don't sup- 
 pose there's much difference, except that clouds are 
 high and fogs are low." 
 
 "No. Say, but it's thick! You can hardly see 
 Dan!" 
 
 "Can't see where we came in, either. The hole has 
 shut tight." 
 
 "Close up," called Grizzly Dan, from the lead. His 
 voice was flat and muffled. "Snow's quittin', an' if 
 you lose the trail in this hyar mix-up you're gone bea- 
 ver." 
 
 "Right," panted Flapjack Jim. "Sure, an' seems 
 to me if it ain't wan thing it's another, on this moun- 
 tain. Which way be we goin' up or down, I won- 
 der?" 
 
 At this last query Chet must snigger. But never- 
 theless, no matter how simple might appear the an- 
 swer, here in this dense, clammy atmosphere up and 
 down were much alike, step by step, unless the slope 
 pitched steeply. 
 
 The cloud layer enfolded like a clinging veil of 
 thickly wet white gauze. Phil could dimly see Chet, 
 
220 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 before him; Flapjack Jim was only a ghost, Brownie 
 was a vague monster, and Grizzly Dan could scarce 
 be outlined at all. As Dan had warned, the snow was 
 growing patchy, as if soon to cease; but upon snow 
 and sod and gravel alike footsteps were strangely 
 subdued. To Phil it seemed that they were en- 
 chanted, moving through an enchanted region, as in 
 a dream. 
 
 "Ought to have a compass," he said, as through 
 the confusing murk they stubbornly toiled on. "No 
 sabe direction, any more." 
 
 "This mountain can make more kinds of bad medi- 
 cine than I ever heard of," declared Chet, crossly. 
 "Wagh! Now no sabe direction, no sabe north, 
 south, east, west, up, down; no sabe anything!" 
 
 "Reckon Charley Pow-wow knew what he was 
 talking about, then. He warned us." 
 
 "Oh, lavin' your home an' lavin' your wife 
 Ain't it a tough wan, the prospector's life?" 
 
 sang Flapjack Jim, maintaining his spirits. "Ain't 
 it, Brownie!" 
 
 Grizzly Dan had halted. As they drew in upon 
 him, his tall, spare figure, leaning upon his long flint- 
 lock rifle, became clearer. His hatbrim and his 
 shaggy hair and whiskers and the fringes of his buck- 
 skins were dripping moisture. 
 
 "Wall," he said, "hyar's a chile who's nigh lost, he 
 air. This air wuss'n that cave, 'cept it's on top o' 
 ground 'stead o' under. But thar we had a tunnel to 
 follow ; hyar we've got nothin'. Fust thing we know, 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 221 
 
 we'll be walkin' circles an' we won't know that, 'less 
 we're lucky 'nough to see when we cross our own 
 tracks." 
 
 "Mebbe, then, we'd better wait till the fog lifts," 
 proposed Flapjack Jim. 
 
 Grizzly Dan scratched his head. 
 
 "It's a medicine fog, made by this 'ere mountain," 
 he murmured dubiously. "Dunno as I can do much, 
 but I'll try." 
 
 They were gathered upon a level spot, by the fog 
 rendered exactly like other spots ; for the monotonous 
 atmosphere concealed all landmarks. Now old Dan, 
 fishing into the breast of his buckskin coat, produced 
 his ancient blackened pipe and his beaded sack of to- 
 bacco. He filled his pipe, and with a match lighted 
 it, and squatting solemnly puffed in four directions, 
 and upward, and downward. He began to sway; and 
 
 he crooned: 
 
 "Wah ho, wah ho yah hee ! 
 Tuh cum puck eee-no wah! 
 Wah ho, wah ho yah hee! 
 Tuh cum puck eee-no wah!" 
 
 Standing, as he finished his song, he delivered quite 
 an address, in Indian tongue, speaking to space as if 
 haranguing the mountain. And a striking spectacle 
 he was, the old white-haired, white-bearded man in 
 trapper costume, looming gaunt and picturesque, like 
 a spirit of the former West, while with sundry ges- 
 tures he launched his guttural syllables into the brood- 
 ing mist. 
 
222 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Now all sing," he bade, concluding, "and we'll see 
 what happens. 
 
 "Wah ho, wah ho yah hee! 
 Tuh cum puck eee-no wah!" 
 And 
 
 "Wah ho, wah ho yah hee! 
 Tuh cum puck eee-no wah!" 
 
 sang they all, Flapjack Jim, with his brogue, entering 
 into the performance as solemnly as Phil and Chet. 
 Flatly issued the chant, quickly dying amidst the 
 heavy atmosphere. 
 
 "That'll do," informed old Dan, tucking away his 
 pipe. "We'll wait a bit, an' give our medicine a 
 chance to work. But somehow I don't feel as if it 
 war very strong, I don't." He stiffened, and raised 
 his hand. "Shht!" he cautioned, intent, "Hug 
 ground." 
 
 Down they squatted instantly; Grizzly Dan's com- 
 mand was imperative. They waited, holding breath. 
 A faint noise was heard. Burros and dogs pricked 
 their ears. Louder grew the noise a clattering and 
 a puffing. There it came: a great spectral shape, 
 looming through the murk. So huge and menacing 
 it was, unknown, indistinct, that Phil felt himself 
 cringing, affrighted. 
 
 Just as it was upon them, and rifle-locks clicked 
 sharply, it halted short, with a blowy snort veered, 
 and went plunging off at an angle into the murk 
 again. 
 
 "Whew!" murmured Chet, staring. 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 223 
 
 "May the saints presarve us !" stammered Flapjack 
 Jim. "Is that what we called up with our song?" 
 
 "Wagh!" exclaimed Grizzly Dan. "The medicine 
 elk! That war he." 
 
 Now occurred fresh excitement. The spell was 
 broken. With sudden yappy whines Bonita and her 
 pups dashed forward, the scent of the monster firing 
 their desire. 
 
 "Bonita! Here!" ordered Phil, leaping himself. 
 
 But he was too late. The half-wolf pups had 
 struck the trail. Led by Woof, away they dashed, 
 frenzied, and the murk swallowed them, too. Only 
 Bonita hesitated, stopped, and occasionally glancing 
 over her shoulder came slowly back, to stand whim- 
 pering. 
 
 "Oh, thunder!" gasped Phil in consternation. 
 "They'll be lost." 
 
 Still crouching, Grizzly Dan had run forward; 
 bending low he scrutinized the ground. "That war 
 he the big elk," he confirmed. "Wagh! Wounded. 
 Hyar's blood." 
 
 "Somebody shot him, then," uttered Chet. "Those 
 hostiles! We heard the report. Remember? Come 
 on! Let's get after him!" 
 
 They also ran forward, to join old Dan. Flapjack 
 Jim stumped after. 
 
 "Must get those pups back, anyway," panted Phil. 
 
 Where the great creature had turned, he had dug 
 deeply with his hoofs, leaving signs unmistakable that 
 an elk he was. And other sign had he left; namely, 
 a spatter of bright red the red of fresh blood. 
 
224 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Come on, quick!" urged Chet, his own blood 
 aflame. 
 
 "No," countermanded old Dan. "Let him go. Let 
 pups go. They'll take keer o' themselves. 'Twar 
 time they war off to the wilds. Wolf to wolf air the 
 way with sech critters, an' their breed calls. 'Tain't 
 our trail. Our trail air the top o' the mountain, quick 
 as ever we can get thar." 
 
 "Right you shpake," agreed Flapjack Jim. "Hist, 
 now! Do I hear somethin' else?" 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted old Dan. "Yes. Make below. 
 Critters, too. Cache ourselves. Folks on trail, I 
 reckon." 
 
 He scurried. Scurried all, hastily hauling the bur- 
 ros. Again, in the fog, they crouched, breathless. 
 And again was heard, increasing as it neared, a clatter 
 and a puffing. Shapes, unformed, wraithlike, loomed 
 amidst the enshrouding mist. Voices spoke. 
 
 "Where'd the beast go?" 
 
 "Are you on the trail, Jack?" 
 
 "Think so. Yep." 
 
 Chet clutched Phil significantly. As to these appari- 
 tions there was no mistake, either. 
 
 "Gosh, but he's a big one." 
 
 "If it wasn't for this bloomin' fog, now." 
 
 "Well, you hit him, anyway. We'll follow along, 
 an* if he lays down he's ourn, sure." 
 
 One after another, in single file, three mounted men 
 and four led animals, they passed by, obscure in the 
 white dimness. They overrode the turn in the trail, 
 for they continued straight on, until they vanished. 
 
ASTRAY IN CLOUD-LAND 225 
 
 Creak of saddle and scrape of hoof died away, and 
 silence once more ensued. 
 
 "Thar!" grunted Grizzly Dan. "I saw my old 
 mule, all right." 
 
 "They were leading our horses, too, and riding 
 your pony," announced Phil. 
 
 "The dirty villains !" berated Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Well, we can trail them, anyway," declared Chet, 
 furiously; "and get the hawsses back, and Sally, and 
 our camp stuff." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 
 
 "No," again decided old Dan. "This chile wants 
 his mule an' pony as bad as anybody, but he air still 
 o' the one mind, an' his moccasins are p'intin' for the 
 top." 
 
 "Sure, boys. Now's our chance, whilst those 
 shpalpeens be off on their wild-goose chase," sup- 
 ported Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "W-well," yielded Chet, grudgingly; for he was 
 stubborn, was Chet. "But after we locate that mine 
 I'm going to get those hawsses. The pups are gone, 
 I reckon, but those are good hawsses." 
 
 "They shore are," chimed in Phil. "And maybe 
 we can find the pups, too." 
 
 "O' course," soothed Jim. "Only, we can't follow 
 all trails at wance, yez know. An' the mine be the 
 grand thing, fust." 
 
 "Only question air, which way be top an' which be 
 bottom," mused Grizzly Dan. "Frightened critter 
 runs uphill, usu'ly. Wall, thar the tracks bend. Let's 
 take that direction, an' hope our medicine air strong 
 to read the sign." 
 
 So, driving Brownie and the borrowed burro, with 
 Bonita following, they resumed their march. Anon 
 
 226 
 
AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 227 
 
 Bonita whimpered, peering aside into the fog, search- 
 ing for her family. 
 
 The elk tracks had entered at a tangent ; and guided 
 by the mighty leap which changed the direction to a 
 greater tangent, old Dan led forth, treading long and 
 stoically over the undulating gravelly surface. Thick 
 and confusing teemed about them the vast stratum of 
 cloud; their clothing hung limp with the moisture; 
 underfoot gravel and rock and sod lay dully wet; the 
 snow patches were un frequent; beyond a radius of ten 
 or fifteen feet was only that blank white wall, ever the 
 same. 
 
 As they plodded it seemed to Phil that indeed they 
 were ascending, that the climbs they made were of 
 more extent than the descents. Chet pointed aside; 
 he saw the fresh red spatter and a hoof -print of the 
 fleeing elk. The party were paralleling his trail, after 
 all; but whether by accident or intent, nobody asked 
 or said. However, Grizzly Dan might be depended 
 upon to do the wisest thing. 
 
 On and on they marched, without speaking a word. 
 The silence around about seemed to enjoin silence 
 upon them also; the constant fog weighed upon their 
 spirits, and even the merry little Irishman was sober. 
 This damp, clammy whiteness encompassing like the 
 hollow of a ghostly hand was more depressing than 
 had been the depths of the tunnels. Surely, it was 
 a mountain with a variety of medicine spells at its 
 command. 
 
 Hours may have passed, for there was no method 
 of measuring time, when again Grizzly Dan came 
 
228 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 to a full stop; and closing in on him, stopped 
 all. 
 
 "Stand still, now/' he bade, low and curt. "Wait. 
 Somebody's followin'. This chile feels" 
 
 So they stood, waiting, a forlorn little company. 
 The burros wheezed. 
 
 Listening hard, Phil could hear nothing except 
 their own breathing. Then, on a sudden, he thought 
 that he did hear something, besides a muffled thud, 
 a soft clink; and as the heads of his companions like- 
 wise turned, catching the sounds, with them he stared 
 behind. 
 
 In their wake he made out another wraith, vague 
 and tenuous and gigantic, as if evolving from fog and 
 earth. It loomed alone, lurking on their trail. 
 Warned of their presence, it too had halted. 
 
 "Look at it !" whispered Chet, shakily. 
 
 The suspense became strained. 
 
 "Who's thar?" demanded old Dan. Sally, his long 
 rifle, rose to his shoulder. Phil raised his carbine, 
 Chet his rifle. "Speak, now, or we'll shoot." 
 
 "If ye be really a ghost, say so, an' we'll save 
 powhder an' lead," quavered Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Friend," answered a human voice; and the form 
 approached. 
 
 Ready, still they waited. The form took more de- 
 finite shape; the mist parted before it; and gradually 
 they made out a man on horseback. 
 
 "Wagh!" grunted old Dan, relieved, lowering 
 Sally. 
 
 It was Charley Pow-wow, the educated Ute. 
 
AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 229 
 
 "Faith," addressed Flapjack Jim, "why didn't ye 
 say so before we saw ye? We thought ye was a 
 spook." 
 
 "Why, hello, Charley," greeted the two boys, as 
 relieved as old Dan. 
 
 "How do you do?" responded Charley. Dank and 
 somber he rested on his dank pony, and surveyed 
 them. "Are you following that elk?" 
 
 "No," said old Dan. "We're tryin to get out o' 
 this hyar pesky cloud." 
 
 "Bueno," uttered Charley. 
 
 "No bueno," denied old Dan, crossly. "Muy malo 
 (very bad)." 
 
 "I mean, it is good that you are not chasing that 
 elk," explained Charley. "He is the big medicine elk. 
 Some mean whites have wounded him. They shall 
 suffer for it." 
 
 "Where are Tony and Francisco, Charley?" asked 
 Phil. 
 
 "They are trailing those mean whites three of 
 them. Since the trail forked I have been trailing you. 
 I did not know who you were. Where are your 
 horses?" 
 
 "Those same whites stole 'em," informed Grizzly 
 Dan. 
 
 "Yes. We saw many horse tracks," affirmed 
 Charley. "Too many. Where do you want to 
 
 go?' 
 
 "To the top o' the mountain." 
 
 "Then you do not want your horses?" 
 
 "Yes, of course we do," corrected Chet. "But we 
 
2 3 o TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 want to beat those mean whites up. They're after 
 our mine." 
 
 "It is not your mine. It is nobody's mine. And 
 this is a medicine mountain. I told you you would 
 have much trouble." 
 
 "Well, we have," blurted Chet. "Anyway, we 
 didn't shoot that elk. Phil and I had a good chance 
 to, but we let him go. And we all got lost in some 
 tunnels for it." 
 
 "He showed us that wonder forest, though," re- 
 minded Phil. "And afterward we rescued the Pro- 
 fessor and the girls." 
 
 "That is well," nodded Charley. "He is a good 
 elk. Those mean whites made a big mistake when 
 they shot him. His medicine must have been weak. 
 At least, that is what my people would say. I do not 
 know." 
 
 "I tell 'ee, drat yon elk," interrupted old Dan, im- 
 patient. "All we want air to get to 'top o' mountain 
 'fore those hostiles do. Can't stand hyar talkin'. Do 
 'ee s'pose we air packin' moccasins for fun, whilst 
 other folks ride our bosses?" 
 
 "The top of the mountain is not far," mused 
 Charley. "It will be better that you have this mine 
 than that those mean whites have it." 
 
 "Which way is the top, then, Charley?" invited 
 Phil. "We're plumb lost in this fog. They're ahorse 
 and we're afoot, and they'll beat us sure." 
 
 "I will tell you," proffered Charley, abruptly. "I 
 know all this mountain. And I will get your horses 
 for you. You must head more to the right, and 
 
AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 231 
 
 keep straight on. Pretty soon you will come to a 
 draw, and if you follow up this draw you will come 
 out above the clouds, and you will see the top of the 
 mountain and the cross, right above you. I will meet 
 you with the horses." 
 
 "An' my old mule," added Grizzly Dan. 
 
 "Yes. I know," nodded Charley, wisely. "I know 
 them all." 
 
 "Oh, will you, Charley?" exclaimed Chet and Phil, 
 grateful. 
 
 "And if you find any of the pups, bring them too, 
 please," enjoined Phil. "The four of them broke 
 away on the elk trail. We couldn't stop 'em. They're 
 half wolf. Guess they're lost." 
 
 "They will join the black wolf pack," asserted 
 Charley. "They will never come back." 
 
 "Oh, shucks !" bemoaned Phil. 
 
 "Adios. We'll be lookin' for 'ee," spoke old Dan, 
 moving forward. 
 
 "Adios." 
 
 "Adios, adios." 
 
 Turning his pony aside, away at a trot fearlessly 
 rode Charley the Ute, unhesitating as if he could see 
 in the fog as a cat sees in the dark. 
 
 "Off to the right more, he said, did he?" mumbled 
 old Dan. "Wall, he ought to know." 
 
 "Hope he does get the horses and mule," voiced 
 Phil. 
 
 "He will," assured Chet. "In this fog? Of course 
 he will. Those hostiles won't stand any show at all, 
 with three Injuns scouting on their trail." 
 
232 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Hooray!" cheered Flapjack Jim. "Did ye hear 
 him, Brownie? B' gorry, an' we'll bate 'em to the 
 top, after all. An' ye'll ate ye's flapjacks off'n a 
 goulden platter!" 
 
 "Hee-haw!" brayed Brownie, halting long enough 
 to do so. 
 
 "Gwan with ye/' reproved her master. "Save your 
 swate song till we be out o' the damp. 'Tis bad for 
 the throat o' ye." 
 
 They had turned off from the elk trail marked by 
 occasional spatter of blood. At a sharp angle with it 
 they traveled for half an hour or more in the new 
 direction. Then 
 
 "We're in the draw, I reckon," asserted Chet. 
 "Good!" 
 
 As far as could be distinguished amidst the closely 
 pressing mist they had entered a shallow dip that with 
 gradual ascent led away, as if straight up the moun- 
 tain. Grizzly Dan spoke no word, but he persistently 
 stuck to the guidance of the draw, which was indica- 
 tion that he also believed in it. 
 
 So they plodded on, upon another long, long 
 stretch; ghosts they seemed, in a lifeless, ghostly 
 country. 
 
 "Isn't it gettin' lighter ahead there?" on a sudden 
 exclaimed Flapjack Jim. 
 
 So unexpectedly came the change, that scarcely had 
 he spoken when they burst, as it were, from the 
 obscurity, and emerged into the full brightness of 
 day! 
 
 "Wagh!" cried old Dan. 
 
AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 233 
 
 Cheered Jim, and next Chet; and looking back as 
 he stepped forth Phil saw the black head and body 
 of the dejected Bonita issuing as from a white ocean. 
 
 Hurrah! Here they were, at last. The yellow of 
 the sunshine, the red of the rocks, and the blue of the 
 sky were dazzling, for a moment; just below, at their 
 very feet, lay the vast stratum of cloud, completely 
 shutting them off; old Dan again exclaimed, and 
 pointed and there, apparently close above, a little 
 to one side, gleamed the white cross limned against 
 the middle peak of the triple-crowned Red Chief. 
 
 The way was clear. 
 
 "Now if we could only see those 'ere Injuns with 
 the critters," said Grizzly Dan, peering across the 
 slope. 
 
 "Isn't that they? Look!" directed Phil, his eyes 
 riveted upon figures, small and black, five hundred 
 yards to the right, rising above the cloud-layer sur- 
 face. 
 
 It was. In number they might have been the 
 hostiles, for they were three, mounted, leading several 
 animals. But as they cleared the fog, by their poise 
 it could be told that Charley and his two boy com- 
 panions they must be. 
 
 "Praise to the saints!" fervently ejaculated Flap- 
 jack Jim. "Sure our luck has changed. Hadn't we 
 better be matin' 'em?" 
 
 Grizzly Dan had already started. The others fol- 
 lowed, and the two parties steadily approached one 
 another. 
 
 "They got the four horses and the mule, all right," 
 
234 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 jubilated Chet. "I knew they would. Golly, but I'll 
 be mighty glad to have that old Medicine Eye again. 
 This chile's feet don't savvy walking." 
 
 Phil's eyes eagerly sought out Pepper; and Pepper 
 it was. He and Medicine Eye were saddled and ap- 
 parently as good as ever. So was the spotted pony. 
 The dun mule bore a pack. So did Cotton-tail, with 
 the elk horns atop. 
 
 Jutting forward her rabbity ears, Brownie the 
 burro, burying all animosities, "hee-hawed" genuine 
 greeting. 
 
 As the two parties came together, Charley's broad, 
 swart face flashed a gratified grin. 
 
 "Thank 'ee, thank 'ee," mumbled Grizzly Dan, as 
 he took the bridle lines of his pony. "The varmints ! 
 Thought to make us wear holes in our moccasins, did 
 they? Wagh! How, kola (how are you, friend)?" 
 he addressed, with almost childish glee slapping the 
 shoulder of the spotted pony. And "Wall, old gal ?" 
 he chuckled, rubbing the nose of his grizzled dun 
 mule. He walked around her, inspecting the pack. 
 
 The two Indian boys, Tony and Francisco, sat 
 proud and stoical (stoical save for a flash in the eyes 
 which matched the flash of Charley's grin). 
 
 "Much obliged," said Phil and Chet, taking the 
 lines of Pepper and Medicine Eye. "Hello, old fel- 
 lows? Glad to see you. What'd you stampede for?" 
 and they petted their partners as Dan had his. "Hello, 
 Cotton-tail? Are you all here?" 
 
 "How'd you get 'em, Charley?" they asked. 
 
 "Very easy. The mean whites were lost, and I 
 
AT LAST ABOVE THE CLOUDS 235 
 
 think they were frightened. Then when we came 
 upon them we got off our horses and sneaked up, and 
 from behind rocks, in the fog, we told them to leave 
 your animals and to move on, pronto. It did not 
 matter that we had bows and arrows. Anyway, bows 
 and arrows are good weapons, in the fog or in the 
 dark. And maybe they thought we were you. I do 
 not know. But they did as we said, and they left 
 your horses and the mule, and went off, two men rid- 
 ing and one walking." 
 
 "Huh!" grunted Chet. "Now we've got 'em beat. 
 That's the top of the mountain, isn't it?" 
 
 Charley gloomily nodded. "Yes. But you had 
 better not go, any of you. I've been telling you that 
 the mountain doesn't want you, and it doesn't." 
 
 "Faith, an' 'tain't a very hospitable mountain, that's 
 the fact," agreed Flapjack Jim. "But sure, we're not 
 wans to be discouraged. When we're after a thing, 
 we be willin' to earn it, an' like as not the mountain 
 be only tistin' our mettle." 
 
 "The top's near, now," asserted Phil. And indeed 
 it looked within a rifle-shot, so clearly gleamed the 
 white cross. "We've left the snow and the cloud be- 
 hind." 
 
 "Lots may happen, still," opposed Charley. "It is 
 a medicine mountain. You may not find the top near. 
 You may not find it at all. And if you do find it, 
 you may wish you hadn't." He was gloomier than 
 ever, as he surveyed it. 
 
 "Have you ever been there, Charley?" asked Phil. 
 
 "It is forbidden. Nobody can go up there. When 
 
236 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 they go up, they do not come down again," said 
 Charley. 
 
 "Why, I wonder?" pursued Phil. 
 
 Charley did not answer. He had changed from 
 white man to red man; and when in this mood it was 
 useless to question him upon Indian topics. 
 
 "Ketch up, ketch up !" bade Grizzly Dan, which was 
 trapper command for moving on. "This chile air 
 goin' to yon top, he air. Leastwise, he air goin' as 
 fur as empty meat-bag '11 let him. Hyar," and he 
 addressed Jim; "swap packs to my old mule, if you 
 want to, an' ride that 'ere extra burro." 
 
 "No," laughed Flapjack Jim; "I'm better at walkin'. 
 An' we be even parties, I'm thinkin'. They be two 
 men ahorse an' wan afoot, an' we be three men ahorse 
 an' wan half afoot." 
 
 "Wall," said Dan. With satisfied grunt he swung 
 aboard his spotted pony. "Adios to 'ee," he bade to 
 Charley and the two Indian boys. "Come along, if 
 ye want to." 
 
 "No," replied Charley, and the two boys, his com- 
 panions, hastily shook their heads. 
 
 "Adios," bade Phil and Chet, swinging aboard 
 Pepper and Medicine Eye. 
 
 Led by Grizzly Dan, the little company was im- 
 mediately in motion. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN 
 
 THE sun was past noon; and by this and by old 
 Dan's reference to "empty meat-bag," Phil realized 
 that the hour was past dinner-time, also. But with 
 the goal so plainly in sight and seemingly so near, and 
 with fortune favoring at last, now mounted upon 
 Pepper he did not at all object to a forced march. 
 
 Looking back, he witnessed Charley and the two 
 lads just descending below cloud line. First one, 
 then another, was swallowed, as if they had sunk into 
 a white sea. 
 
 Up here, more than two miles high, the air, filtered 
 by the cloud bank, and far removed from all smoke 
 and dust of civilization, was marvelously pure and 
 clear and crisp. Every object stood forth with a 
 peculiar brilliance. The traces of snow had dis- 
 appeared entirely; the sun shone warm; the red rocks 
 and soil were dry ; the pale blue sky was flawless ; and 
 the present was so promising of success that as he 
 trudged Flapjack Jim crooned a new song: 
 
 "There was wance a little man an' he had a wooden 
 
 leg, 
 
 An* over all the mountains did he peg, peg, peg; 
 With his burro an' his pick an' his shpade an* his 
 
 pan, 
 A-sakin' a bonanza sich a foolish little man!" 
 
 "Yez see, I'm a poet," he announced gaily. 
 
 237 
 
238 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Driving the two burros, he brought up the rear. 
 Grizzly Dan, followed by Betty, the wise old dun 
 pack-mule, held the advance, with old Cotton-tail 
 sticking at her heels. Riding side by side, Chet and 
 Phil, Bonita on the flank, occupied the middle. As 
 they all proceeded Grizzly Dan glanced keenly right 
 and left, seeking glimpse of the three hostiles who, 
 of course, also would be pushing for the coveted top. 
 Chet and Phil likewise constantly swept the slope with 
 their eyes and Phil was expectant of seeing, maybe, 
 some sign of the strayed pups. He hated to give 
 them up. 
 
 Not a moving figure showed upon the ruddy sur- 
 face above the cloud line. All the high expanse, rising 
 like an island, seemed lonely, and they the first 
 visitors. 
 
 For a time the travel was easy. The ground rose 
 steadily but evenly, its soil interspersed with various 
 boulders and outcrops amidst which the animals, and 
 the trudging Jim, deftly threaded. 
 
 Now from the rear Flapjack Jim called gladly, and 
 held up his hand, with something in it. They paused 
 until he overtook them. 
 
 "The float, an' plinty of it!" he informed, showing 
 to them a large piece of the brick-like rock that had 
 been their lure below. "The ground be 'most kivvered 
 with it, in shpots. Which is to say," he corrected, 
 "not all in wan shpot, I mane. But sure I see it, ivery 
 now an' then. 'Tis an advantage to prospect afoot. 
 Ahorse yez miss a lot." 
 
 "Good !" uttered Phil. "Reckon we're on the right 
 trail." 
 
THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN 239 
 
 "Pieces must be getting bigger. That's heap sign," 
 agreed Chet. 
 
 "Lookee thar," directed Grizzly Dan, pointing be- 
 fore, as sitting in his saddle he gazed earnestly. "Dif- 
 ferent kind o' sign; what? Mought be signal smoke; 
 mought not. Wagh!" 
 
 In ascending they had taken the customary diagonal 
 course for to force horse or foot straight up, on a 
 long climb, is poor policy. A gap had opened. Framed 
 in it, so to speak, was a hazy, distant plume effect 
 which, as old Dan had said, might be smoke. 
 
 Phil and Chet simultaneously exclaimed: "It's red, 
 though ! It looks red !" 
 
 "Sartin it does," confirmed old Dan, in puzzled 
 manner. 
 
 "Who iver heard o' rid shmoke?" piped Flapjack 
 Jim. "If shmoke it be, then 'tis a rid reflection. Ain't 
 all the mountain rid ? O' course. But who be makin' 
 it? Those three men wouldn't be up there alriddy, 
 unliss they had a flyin' machine!" 
 
 "It's beyond the cross, anyway," quoth Chet. 
 "Maybe it isn't smoke. It's a cloud sticking up, 
 against the rocks." 
 
 "No cloud," denied Grizzly Dan, shaking his shaggy 
 head. "More medicine, o' some kind. If it'll let us 
 alone, we'll let it alone. We're aimin' for the cross, 
 we air; that's enough." 
 
 He resumed the march. As again they proceeded, 
 one and all they scrutinized that filmy plume so mys- 
 teriously hanging suspended in the clear air, over that 
 distant spot. It appeared to be a thin, constant smoke 
 
2 4 o TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 column but red was its tinge : a red brighter and more 
 vivid than that of the rocks, and verging upon crim- 
 son. Such might be smoke shone through by setting 
 or rising sun, or by fire; but here the sun was not 
 giving the hue, and the column somehow did not seem 
 to upwell amidst fire so intense as to color it. 
 
 Another turn in the course occurred, and the gap 
 closed; the crimson smoke-plume disappeared, leaving 
 them wondering. 
 
 The climb was becoming rougher. Jagged rocks 
 were thickly scattered. Among them the little com- 
 pany had to pick their way. At this altitude, in the 
 fall, the sod was the sod of spring, with fresh green 
 grasses and white and pink flowers growing. 
 
 Presently the company entered a long, wide alley 
 almost a street, of some ruined city, enclosed on 
 either hand by broken, tumbled walls eight and ten 
 feet high. The street seemed lifeless and deserted; 
 and as they slowly rode Phil imagined that they were 
 traversing a street of an ancient city like Pompeii or 
 Herculaneum, or in the African desert. 
 
 Now and then the white cross of the peak looked 
 in upon them, from before. It seemed a little nearer, 
 but not much so ; and Phil noted with misgivings that 
 the sun was all too swiftly sinking toward it. The 
 sun was beating them. Grizzly Dan also must have 
 noted the fact, for a grumble of impatience issued 
 from him, as he must halt and swing from his spotted 
 pony. 
 
 "Drat 'ee!" he scolded, examining his pony's hoofs. 
 "Take this time to pick up a stun, will 'ee?" 
 
THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN 241 
 
 The way was narrowing; and as if to explore on 
 his own hook Chet forged gallantly ahead. The others 
 waited for old Dan to relieve his lame pony of the 
 stone. All the animals puffed, and Flapjack Jim 
 stood panting, braced on his wooden leg. 
 
 "B'gorry," he remarked, "if both my legs were 
 wooden, then the feet o' me'd not be tired at all, at 
 all. But I can rist the wan by shtandin' on the other." 
 
 As Grizzly Dan was mounting again, Chet came 
 trotting back, wild with excitement. 
 
 "The elk!" he panted. "The big medicine elk! 
 He's lying down, just ahead, right in the trail. Come 
 on, quick!" 
 
 "Dead?" asked Phil. 
 
 "No. I should say not. But he's weak; he can't 
 get up." 
 
 "Wagh !" uttered old Dan, interested. "I want to 
 know. Can't stop long to look at elks, though. Got 
 to reach top 'fore dark." 
 
 Now led by the eager Chet they hastened, with the 
 sturdy little Irishman lustily stumping at the rear. 
 The tumbled walls closed in rapidly upon the rocky, 
 gravel way. Chet pointed. 
 
 "There he is! See him? Lying down." 
 
 Slackening as they approached and scanned, they 
 saw that the big elk it was. Chet had made no mis- 
 take. Here he was crouched, upon his four legs 
 doubled under him, his nose touching the ground; 
 and with head half turned he was watching them. 
 His prodigious horns up-spread ; his eyes were bulging 
 defiant and frightened; he snorted loudly. Upon 
 
242 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 his dark, tawny shoulder was a matted smear of 
 red. 
 
 At respectful distance from him they stopped. The 
 horses, staring, sniffed with open nostrils; even Betty 
 and the two burros seemed alarmed, and Bonita 
 skulked under Pepper. For prone as he was, a huge, 
 menacing figure appeared this giant elk, closing the 
 trail. 
 
 "How'd he get in here? We didn't see sign of 
 him," said Phil. 
 
 "Came down those side rocks, some'eres," pro- 
 nounced Grizzly Dan. 
 
 "An' what be we goin' to do with him, then?" in- 
 vited Flapjack Jim. "Can we get past, I want to 
 know?" 
 
 "Climb over him," answered Phil, for fun. 
 
 "Faith, an' with wan toss of his horns he'd lift us 
 clear to the top yonder," retorted Jim. 
 
 "Have to shoot him, won't we?" proposed Chet. 
 "Say, I'd like to have those horns! They're bigger 
 than our pair he cast. When we get 'em we'll meas- 
 ure and see." 
 
 The elk snorted forbiddingly, and shook his heavy 
 head. The horses trembled. 
 
 "Get up!" shouted Chet, spurring Medicine Eye 
 forward a few reluctant paces. "Hey, you ! Get up ! 
 Shoo!" He waved his hat, while holding ready his 
 rifle. Fearless was Chet; but Grizzly Dan sternly 
 called him back. 
 
 "Quit that!" he ordered. "If that thar critter 
 comes a-chargin' down hyar, he'll make a heap o' 
 
THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN 243 
 
 trouble, boy. Don't 'ee know chargin' elk air wuss'n 
 chargin' b'ar, an' these air narrer quarters for a 
 fracas? Quit it, I tell 'ee." 
 
 "Aw, he can't get up, anyway," asserted Chet, 
 abashed, and reining back. "We'll have to shoot him 
 where he lies, then." 
 
 "No, don't let's kill him," pleaded Phil, with sud- 
 den compassion. The elk's head had drooped again, 
 as if his defiance had exhausted him. There in his 
 weakness, an appealing sight he made. Yet he was 
 blocking the trail. 
 
 "Mebbe we can shlip round him," suggested Flap- 
 jack Jim. "Or can't we climb out? 'Twould be 
 better to lave him in peace than to deshtroy him, the 
 pore baste." 
 
 "Mustn't go to killin' medicine elk," enjoined old 
 Dan. "Wagh ! An' hyar's a chile as hates to kill any- 
 thing, 'cept for meat, or to put sufferin' critter out o' 
 his misery. Now, if we leave him, I reckon he'll get 
 well. He's plumb tuckered, that's what he air. Let's 
 try makin' circuit 'round his hind end." And he 
 addressed the fallen monarch. "Now, brother, we 
 won't harm ye. We air bound on to top o' mountain. 
 'Twarn't our rifles that give you that hurt. No. I 
 am Vip-po-nah, the Lean Chief, and these are my 
 friends. We would pass, harming nothing." 
 
 Having thus spoken with dignity, Grizzly Dan 
 started his spotted pony for the one point practicable : 
 where the extended flank of the elk almost touched the 
 right-hand rock-wall. Here was passage but a very 
 slim passage. 
 
244 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 However, fiercely the big elk raised his antlered 
 head. His eyes bulged bloodshot, he tossed his 
 mighty horns, his lips curled back in a snarl exposing 
 his tusks, froth gathered upon them, and snorting 
 loudly he struggled to gain his feet. 
 
 "Wagh!" exclaimed Grizzly Dan, much perturbed, 
 as his pony recoiled. 
 
 The elk sank back. The spotted pony shrank and 
 braced, declining to go on. The other animals were 
 sharing in the fear. Plainly, to effect that narrow 
 passage was impossible, as long as the elk was alive 
 to defend it. 
 
 Grizzly Dan must scratch his head, in dismay. 
 
 "Wait. I'll thry a climb for yez," proffered Flap- 
 jack Jim, stumping briskly along the walls. He 
 peeped into two or three crevices; and he, too, must 
 scratch his head. "Faith," he said, "we might climb 
 out ourselves, but what would we do with the ani- 
 miles? 'Twould be a cruel thing to lave 'em here 
 forninst that ravin' baste though when Brownie an' 
 he met, sure I'd like to be on hand to see the fight. 
 Brownie would ate him up, horns an 5 all." 
 
 "Turn back, turn back," uttered Grizzly Dan. "No 
 use wastin' time. Time air precious." 
 
 He turned. They all turned; and glad were the 
 horses, and Betty and the burros, to do so. 
 
 "He got in," complained Chet, referring to the 
 elk. 
 
 "Well, it's a lot easier to jump down than to jump 
 up," reminded Phil, much relieved that they were re- 
 tiring instead of forcing passage. 
 
THE MEDICINE ELK AGMN 245 
 
 "Beyant him there's a beautiful shpot to climb 
 out by," announced Flapjack Jim. "Did yez see 
 it?" 
 
 "After we got past him we wouldn't need to climb 
 out," retorted Chet. 
 
 "Right ye are," agreed Flapjack Jim. "I hadn't 
 thought o' that, entirely." 
 
 So they rode back, the way they had come, and 
 they left the big elk lying as they had first seen him, 
 and gazing after. At safe distance Brownie paused, 
 in order to twist head and deliver a most strenuous, 
 ridiculous "Hee-haw !" 
 
 "Lave be, lave be, Brownie," counseled her master. 
 "Would ye attack a poor disabled crather?" 
 
 The elk was out of sight, around a bend, and they 
 had retraced their steps much farther than convenient, 
 before there was found in the ruinous walls a break 
 through which might clamber horse, mule, and burro. 
 The delay, and the detour, seemed to have fairly de- 
 voured time; for when at last the little company 
 emerged from the confines of the ancient street into 
 the open slope, old Dan, about to lead on, muttered 
 impatiently. 
 
 The sun was in the second of the two .saddles con- 
 necting the three peaks of Red Chief. His yellow 
 shine had waned to pale lemon ; in a minute he would 
 be gone for the night. Already the cross had dulled, 
 and shadows were lengthening fast. 
 
 Chet cried out in dismay. "We're never going to 
 get there, are we?" 
 
 "Don't believe so," confessed Phil, sobered by the 
 
246 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 disappointment. "We'd have got there, if that elk 
 hadn't held us back. Now pshaw !" 
 
 "The lane we were in was a beautiful short-cut, but 
 here we be adrift agin, all outdoors, with the top both 
 far an' near," complained Flapjack Jim. "An' what 
 says the boss?" 
 
 The sun had sunk. Grizzly Dan halted, dubiously 
 surveying the fast dimming landscape. 
 
 "Empty meat-bag, no water, an' night," he de- 
 livered musingly. "An' medicine all 'round us. 
 We'd better camp, soon as we find a good place." ' 
 
 "Now I call this pretty mean!" accused Chet. 
 "That elk did it on purpose. He wasn't hurt at all. 
 It was just some more medicine work, to keep us back. 
 We ought not to have let him bluff us." 
 
 "No use talkin' what mought have been," declared 
 old Dan. "If he war medicine elk, we couldn't have 
 got past him; an' if he warn't medicine elk, we 
 couldn't have got past him without killin' him which 
 ain't a human thing to think of. Anyway, hyar we 
 air, an' it's goin' to be a lean, dry camp, I reckon, till 
 mornin'. Wouldn't risk climbin' about on a medicine 
 mountain, at night 'specially a region whar we've 
 never been." 
 
 "Right," agreed Flapjack Jim. And he sighed. "I 
 guiss we'll have to wait. But with mornin' light 'tis 
 only a short shtroll, an' like as not those three 
 shpalpeens be shtill down in the fog." 
 
 Such a cheerful little man was Flapjack Jim. 
 
 Grizzly Dan was slowly scouting along, his eyes, 
 under the bushy brows, sweeping the surface on either 
 
THE MEDICINE ELK AGAIN 247 
 
 hand and before. Flanking him, Phil and Chet pro- 
 ceeded to do the same; for the question now was to 
 find a camping-spot before darkness settled down. 
 
 This high mountain-side was bare of aught save 
 rock and gravel and sparse sod; and it seemed that 
 about the best to be accomplished was a camp shel- 
 tered from the breeze. Old Dan appeared to have 
 determined thus, for again pausing, he repeated: 
 
 "Nary wood, nary water. 'Twill be a lean camp, 
 without pot. Wagh! But we can make the best of 
 it. Fust likely place we come to, we'll squat." 
 
 "How's this?" called Phil across. "Here's a place 
 between rocks." 
 
 "Any grass about, for critters?" queried old Dan. 
 
 "Some." 
 
 He rode over, and inspected. 
 
 "Off saddle," he approved, swinging stiffly from his 
 spotted pony. 
 
 Chet came. Flapjack Jim stumped in. They all 
 fell to work stripping the animals. These, released, 
 greedily cropped the scanty supply of short grass. 
 Even Brownie forbore from taking time to play hog. 
 
 "Jiminy, I'm dry!" announced Chet. "Wish we'd 
 brought a canteen." 
 
 "There'll be wather somewheres above," promised 
 the little Irishman. "An' sure it'll taste all the better 
 for the wait. Wance in a while 'tis a foine plan to go 
 thirsty a bit, an' then we appreciate what a blessed 
 thing wather is." 
 
 The packs of Betty and Cotton-tail had practically 
 been undisturbed by the three hostiles; and with that, 
 
248 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 and the packs on the two burros, the camp, if sup- 
 plied with wood and water, might have been a camp 
 of luxury. Anyway, there was plenty of bedding, 
 and some of Grizzly Dan's inevitable jerked meat 
 which was good for the jaws if not particularly easy 
 for the stomach. 
 
 By the time the beds had been made down, and the 
 pangs of hunger soothed with the stoutly chewed 
 "jerky," dusk was upon earth and stars in the blue- 
 black sky. Here in the angle formed by a ledge and 
 several boulders the camp bade fair, except for thirst, 
 to pass a comfortable night. 
 
 Grizzly Dan, sitting wrapped Indian-wise in a 
 blanket, was meditatively puffing at his short, dingy 
 pipe. Flapjack Jim, also puffing, as he lay swathed 
 had uttered his first plaint. "Faith," he murmured; 
 "even my ould wooden leg aches." 
 
 Phil was condoling with Bonita upon the loss of 
 the pups. Chet had scaled the boulders, to mark how 
 strayed the animals. And now he excitedly called in : 
 
 "I see a camp-fire, up on top. The cross is oc- 
 cupied!" 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 
 
 CHET'S words spelled consternation. To its feet 
 sprang the camp, and ran out to various vantage 
 points, bent upon seeing for itself. Phil joined Chet 
 on the rock. 
 
 "Look!" directed Chet, pointing. 
 
 Where the cross had been, before darkness veiled 
 it, now down through the black space twinkled, like 
 a low red star, a small fire. By that, somebody was 
 encamped at the goal ; and who, unless the three hos- 
 tiles? 
 
 For the campers below there was nothing to do but 
 to murmur disgustedly and to resign themselves until 
 morning. 
 
 "If it hadn't been for that elk keeping us back we 
 might have been the first up," asserted Chet, wrath- 
 ful. "That was a mean trick, I call it!" 
 
 "Well," said Flapjack Jim, as they turned in for 
 bed, "mebbe there's a r'ason in it. We'll see." 
 
 "We'll see a heap o' things 'fore 'nother day air 
 done," promised old Dan. "This coon hasn't played 
 beaver an' gone meat hungry an' swallered fog an' 
 been skeered by elk an' made dry camp without fire 
 for pot, all for no thin'. He air bound for top o' 
 mountain, an' he air goin' to get thar. Wagh !" , 
 
 249 
 
250 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Bueno!" applauded Phil. 
 
 Chet muttered appreciation. 
 
 In old Dan's speech was something reassuring 
 something that invited success, after all, and that 
 boded ill for the opposition. 
 
 Grizzly Dan and Flapjack Jim snored right through 
 the night; but Phil was restless and it seemed to him 
 that Chet, beside him under the buffalo robe (good 
 was it to have that prized robe again), tossed and 
 gurgled more than customary. As for Phil, he 
 thought much upon the fire at the cross, and the dis- 
 appointment of having been beaten in the race. If 
 that had been really a medicine elk, why had he op- 
 posed them and favored their rivals who had wounded 
 him? That did not seem just. However, life did 
 not always work out according to human ideas of the 
 just and the unjust; but, as Flapjack Jim had sug- 
 gested, "there's a r'ason in it." 
 
 Now through the still, dense night overhung by a 
 black canopy thickly set with glint and sparkle more 
 wonderful than that of the magic forest, floated a 
 long, quavering howl and another, and another, and 
 others, uniting in a weird, not unmusical medley, fitted 
 to these high, lonely places. 
 
 Bonita stirred and whined. Chet raised his head. 
 
 "Wagh! Black wolves. Trapper's hounds," he 
 uttered drowsily, and dropped back to sleep. 
 
 Phil listened hard. He thought that amidst the 
 notes he could distinguish the yappy voices of Nig, 
 and Woof, and Limpy, and Rags. He rather hoped 
 so. It would be better for them to travel with those 
 
UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 251 
 
 experienced hunters, their kinsfolk, than to essay the 
 trail and the chase by themselves. They were still so 
 young and so inexperienced. 
 
 No elk whistled a challenge in reply. Supposing 
 that the pack were trailing him the wounded big 
 fellow ! That would be bad. He was down and help- 
 less. Maybe that was why he did not whistle. But 
 perhaps he knew how to take care of himself. Ani- 
 mals in the great open were wise, and brave; and 
 many battles and escapes must be constantly occurring. 
 
 Then Phil went to sleep, until morning. And the 
 wolves howled not again, and the stars brightly 
 twinkled, and the planets steadily blazed, and the vast 
 darkness enfolding the little camp was disturbed by 
 only an occasional blowy snort from horse and mule. 
 Far were cities and watchmen; but no sleepers ever 
 were safer than these among the rocks here on the 
 mountain slope, under the guardian stars. 
 
 When Phil awakened, his eyes opened to see old 
 Dan standing, just outside the camp, his buckskin 
 figure limned against a lightening east as he peered 
 upward at the cross. 
 
 "No sign o' fire thar now," he mumbled, wagging 
 his head. "Wall," he added, "later they sleep, better 
 for us." He turned. "Hos-guard out," he prompted, 
 seeing Phil's movement. "No pot on fire, so I'll help 
 ye. Must make 'arly start, an' be scoutin' 'long for 
 water, too." 
 
 One after another, arising, the remainder of the 
 camp took a look at the cross. Struck by the beams 
 of a sun yet unseen, it gleamed white and beckoning 
 
252 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 and apparently untenanted, for never a trace of camp- 
 fire smoke up-wafted against it or beside it. For all 
 that showed by dawn, the alarm of the night might 
 have been only a dream. 
 
 "Faith," commented Flapjack Jim, "I don't blame 
 'em for shlapin' late ; with that much more of a climb 
 I'd be shlapin' shtill, my own self. But up we go." 
 
 "Up we go," affirmed old Dan, nodding decisively. 
 "We're nearer top than bottom. We'll play game to 
 end, 'fore we're licked." 
 
 That sounded good. Breakfast (dry and hasty) 
 was soon put away, the animals were packed, and the 
 last stage of the upward march was begun. On this, 
 the high country above the clouds, the sun burst early 
 while yet the lower country was in dusk. The rays 
 revealed all details plainly; but not yet did the ex- 
 pected camp-smoke at the cross materialize. Perhaps, 
 reflected Phil, this was for the best; since if they them- 
 selves could read any stir at the top, the watchers there 
 could read any stir at the other end of the line. So 
 let them sleep. 
 
 The march was slow; all the animals seemed tired. 
 The night's forage had been scant, after a day's hard 
 work, and the lack of water also told. Phil could 
 appreciate this, because his mouth was cottony, and 
 he longed constantly for a big draught of wetness. It 
 seemed to him that he could drink any water, even if 
 it were swampy and lukewarm. 
 
 However, nobody grumbled. All plodded on, 
 Bonita with her tongue out. 
 
 Below stretched the cloud-bank, gently heaving and 
 
UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 253 
 
 swirling, and opening with occasional rifts through 
 which was given brief glimpse of the earth. That 
 is, of what appeared to be another earth, detached, 
 underneath. Above, gleamed clear the white cross. 
 Midway between cloud-bank and cross toiled the little 
 company, business-bent, ever ascending, determined to 
 "play game to end." 
 
 Grizzly Dan, leading, bore off to the left, where 
 a shallow dip would afford some slight cover. They 
 might depend upon old Dan to pick the best trail. 
 He was a mountain man and trapper-scout, a white 
 Injun! So they all followed obediently, Flapjack Jim 
 pegging busily at the rear. 
 
 "An' when we reach the top," volunteered the 
 cheery Jim, panting but undaunted, "then we'll see 
 what's to be done. Mebbe there'll be room for all; 
 an' let's hope we'll get our share without trouble. 
 Sure I don't mind har-rd work, but I hate trouble with 
 the other fellow." 
 
 "Well, if the top's big enough for all, we'll get our 
 share," declared the spunky Chet. 
 
 "Expect, though, if they've located the mine, we 
 can't help ourselves," hazarded Phil. "First come, 
 first served." , 
 
 "They stole our outfit, though horse and mule and 
 pack !" retorted Chet, indignantly. "And they thought 
 they'd shut Dan and Jim in that tunnel! You heard 
 'em. They're a set of rustlers. Ought to be run out 
 of the country." 
 
 "Wall, we can't be jedge an' jury. In old times 
 I'd have raised ha'r for this; but can't now," spoke 
 
254 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 back Grizzly Dan. "The Law air boss. When we 
 get to top, we'll do what's proper accordin' to con- 
 science an' Law o' God, an' we'll leave rest to Law o' 
 man. Even 'way up hyar, we airn't beyond Law 
 an'," he added significantly, "neither air they." 
 
 Steadily as they upward wound, over the series of 
 inclines and levels forming this the final ascent, no 
 sign of occupancy appeared, at the cross. Whoever 
 might be watching them and waiting for them was 
 in covert; and this made the approach all the more 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 Now the shallow draw ended, and from it the little 
 company must file out into the wide open. Before, 
 at the terminus of a short, rocky basin, flat and bare, 
 uprose a ledge-like rim-rock, set with the white cross. 
 Irregular of outline was the cross, viewed near; and 
 larger than could have been estimated from below. 
 
 Straight out into the gravelly open rode old Dan. 
 After him rode Chet and Phil. Phil's heart beat 
 rapidly : due in part to altitude, in part to excitement. 
 For what would greet them, all exposed ? Gruff com- 
 mand, volley of shots, what? But Dan rode out, 
 long rifle ready in hollow of left arm; Chet, sitting 
 squarely, his rifle plucked from scabbard and likewise 
 poised, boldly followed; and Phil could do no less 
 than imitate. 
 
 The whole cavalcade, with Flapjack Jim trudging 
 at the tail, emerged ; and from the vicinity of the great 
 waiting cross issued no sound, nor could be descried 
 there any movement. 
 
 "I see them," spoke Chet cautiously to Phil at his 
 
UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 255 
 
 elbow. Advancing more hesitantly, the little com- 
 pany was beginning to bunch. 
 
 Grizzly Dan, too, was seeing, for his head craned 
 forward, and he held high the nose of his spotted 
 pony, preparing for instant action. And staring, Phil 
 also saw : he saw, or thought he saw, a camp wrapped 
 in sleep. Beside opened packs were stretched the 
 figures of men, and beyond was a horse, lying down. 
 
 The red gravel crunched underfoot; the sun was 
 bright overhead; and at any moment the camp would 
 wake to arms. His heart in his mouth, and thumping 
 so that it roared in his ears, as they rode forward 
 Phil kept his eyes glued upon the camp, thumb glued 
 upon carbine hammer, forefinger touching trigger- 
 guard. He hoped that there would be no trouble; 
 but men, especially desperate men, wakening suddenly 
 were apt to do almost anything. 
 
 They had half crossed the desolate basin, and had 
 been unchallenged. Now the great cross, with the 
 camp near its foot, was only one hundred yards away. 
 Grizzly Dan stood in his stirrups, the better to sur- 
 vey. The puffing of the little Irishman, pegging 
 pluckily, mingled in Phil's ears with those excited 
 heart-thumps so intense was the critical moment. 
 Grizzly Dan clapped heels to his fagged pony and rode 
 faster, as if to cover the brief distance at one spurt; 
 they all followed, the burros at a trot and Flapjack 
 Jim pegging more briskly. 
 
 Grizzly Dan was first. He pulled short. Pepper 
 and Medicine Eye, upon either side of Cotton-tail, 
 had their ears pricked, like his, as if interested in the 
 
256 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 motionless camp; and suddenly, with a greedy bray 
 and with long nose thrust forward, Betty broke into 
 a lope, forging ahead. 
 
 Grizzly Dan hammered his pony with his heels, and 
 whirled to intercept. His voice rang high and reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 "She smells water! Don't let the critters drink! 
 Don't drink yoreselves ! Don't, I tell 'ee !" 
 
 There was no space for questions. Grizzly Dan 
 knew something: what, would be found out later. 
 Betty was dodging stubbornly, but the spotted pony 
 out footed her, and reaching, old Dan grabbed her by 
 the lead-rope looped about her neck. Now Cotton- 
 tail had broken from the group. Chet's rifle clapped 
 into his scabbard, his coiled rope was taken down in 
 a twinkling from the saddle thong, and hastily run- 
 ning the noose he galloped after. 
 
 Phil did not wait to see results. He had work of 
 his own, with the burros. The borrowed burro, mak- 
 ing aside at a quick little lope, was bolting, and 
 Brownie, deaf to Flapjack Jim's entreaties and com- 
 mands, followed. Into the scabbard slipped Phil's 
 scarred carbine, with a jerk at the thong bowknot he 
 had freed his own rope coil; and shaking open the 
 loop he galloped to head the burros. 
 
 Pepper enjoyed this, weary as he was. It was his 
 opportunity to show his superiority to burro, just as 
 to cow. Riding free, brought to the right distance 
 Phil cast; his noose fell true, and the burro, wise to 
 rope language, stopped short. Brownie stopped; and 
 laboring up Flapjack Jim caught her, and scolded. 
 
UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 257 
 
 Glancing anxiously, Phil saw that Chet had roped 
 Cotton-tail. All the animals were secure except 
 Bonita. 
 
 "Bonita! Bonita! Here! Here!" cried Phil, in 
 sudden agony of dismay. "Oh, here!" 
 
 He was just in time. Bonita, halted midway in her 
 quest also, turned aside and came back, tail drooped, 
 ears low, eyes querying. 
 
 "You stay, now," bade Phil, sternly. 
 
 All these proceedings had consumed but a minute. 
 However, they had rent the mysterious atmosphere 
 with sound and motion; and each pair of human eyes 
 leaped to witness the effect on the sleeping camp. 
 
 There apparently had been no effect. The camp 
 was unchanged in a single posture. A cold fear 
 smote Phil, steadying his heart but making his hand 
 tremble. 
 
 "What's the matter there, I wonder," stammered 
 Chet, staring from rigid attitude. 
 
 The little Irishman was muttering to himself. 
 Grizzly Dan, leading forward Betty, spoke. 
 
 "Needn't mind that thar camp," he said quietly. 
 "But keep the critters back. Better tie that dawg, 
 too. The water's pizen. Leastwise, that's how things 
 look to me. Hyar's a hull camp wiped out, man an' 
 beast." 
 
 "Saints presarve us !" exclaimed the little Irishman, 
 piously. "I'll hould Brownie." 
 
 Phil was unable to say a word. 
 
 "Who were they?" asked Chet, his nerves under 
 better control. 
 
258 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "The three hostiles, I reckon," answered old Dan. 
 "When we get the critters tied fast, we can see/' 
 
 "Here, Bonita," again bade Phil. And dismount- 
 ing he dizzily passed his rope-end under her collar. 
 
 They succeeded in wedging the ropes of the pack- 
 animals tightly beneath two boulders; here was left 
 Bonita also, tethered securely. Upon their horses, 
 with Flapjack Jim pegging, they might advance the 
 forty or fifty yards intervening. Even in the last 
 stretch to this gruesome goal Flapjack Jim paused and 
 picked up a fragment of rock. 
 
 "Quartz," he announced. "The cross be quartz." 
 
 They were the three men the Black Man, the 
 Cross-eyed Man, and the Man with the Scar. This 
 was to be noted at once from their clothing, remem- 
 bered plainly. They were each in a different posture : 
 the Cross-eyed Man with his face in his arms, the 
 Man with the Scar upon his side, the Black Man half 
 sitting against the wall, feet to the cold ashes of the 
 fire. 
 
 They had not been long in camp, when stricken. 
 The meager packs had been opened, a coffee-pot had 
 been filled with water, and a few waif twigs and 
 splinters had been gleaned, with which to build a 
 fire. But things were left scattered and prepara- 
 tions -uncompleted, as if the blight had fallen 
 suddenly. 
 
 So here they were, the three hostiles, now seen at 
 near view for only the second time. Yet they had 
 been so constantly in mind, that to Phil they seemed 
 like frequent acquaintances; and so still and harmless 
 
UNDER THE GREAT CROSS 259 
 
 were they, that he felt ashamed of having resented 
 them and feared them. 
 
 Their camp had been made at the foot of the wall, 
 beside the great irregular cross, whence welled a 
 limpid spring. The trickling water was very attrac- 
 tive; it called to every atom of Phil's parched palate; 
 and in spite of the ghastly company on guard almost 
 would he have hastily plunged his fevered lips into 
 the tempting liquid, but Grizzly Dan spoke again, 
 sharply. 
 
 "Don't drink! Don't tech it, I say! See that 'ere 
 hos, too? It's a pizen spring; sure pizen." 
 
 Along a little channel marked by a deposit of red- 
 dish yellow (indicating that it was indeed a mineral 
 spring) the water flowed away, at a tangent with the 
 face of the wall; and yonder, off toward the farther 
 edge of the basin, where it collected in a small pool, 
 was stretched rigid a horse. Dismounted, leading 
 their own horses, they went over, to inspect. From 
 here they could see the other horse's body, around a 
 projection of the wall. 
 
 The deceptive spring had done its work thoroughly. 
 
 "Oh, whew!" uttered Chet, softly. "If it hadn't 
 been for that elk, we might have got here first; and 
 instead of them, it would be us!" 
 
 "I told yez there was r'ason in it all," reminded 
 Flapjack Jim. "Things work out for the best 
 though, faith, I wish that other party had not got here 
 first, either. 'Tis not pleasant, to think of 'em. It 
 be an arsenic spring, I'm thinkin', with sulphur an* 
 iron. I'd rather give 'em the whole mountain, an' 
 
26o TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 lave 'em alive on it, than have 'em be ended like that." 
 
 "So would I," soberly agreed Phil. 
 
 "Wall, we can't stay 'round hyar," declared Griz- 
 zly Dan. "Thar's no wood. Sech as might have been 
 they used up, every scrap. An' thar's no water." 
 
 As to water, all knew. And as to wood, he spoke 
 truly, for throughout the gravelly, rocky basin over- 
 looked by the great silent cross not a vestige of fuel 
 sufficient to keep a fire five minutes could be descried. 
 Here nothing except a few withered grasses grew. 
 There was not even forage for the animals. 
 
 "How about the mine, I wonder?" hazarded Phil. 
 
 "That's right," said Chet. "Don't we hunt for the 
 mine? Here we are." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE RED SMOKE 
 
 "CAN'T eat an' drink gold," replied old Dan. "Got 
 to have water for man an' beast an' pot, an' fire to 
 put under pot." 
 
 "But the map says the mine is around here," per- 
 sisted Chet. "Shucks!" 
 
 "Wait, now, whilst I prospect a little for yez," bade 
 Flapjack Jim. "Sure, I don't see any o' the rid stuff 
 about; an' the cross be quartz. Where's the float, if 
 here be the mine? Bedad, we didn't pick up any o' 
 the float for the last mile, since we entered the draw 
 ladin' us here ! Wait now." 
 
 Pick upon shoulder he pegged briskly back, across 
 the gravelly basin, as briskly as though he did not 
 know fatigue and hunger and thirst. Zigzagging and 
 apparently searching, clear to the cross he went; and 
 fearless of the quiet squad there (they could harm 
 him not) he examined the face of the wall. He pecked 
 into the cross, and he pecked along right and left. 
 Pegging still briskly, he returned. 
 
 "Niver a color, an' niver a trace o' mine ould or 
 new," he reported. "The quartz be barren quartz, 
 an' the rock around be barren rock; an' the float has 
 quit. Does the map say that the mine be surely at 
 the cross?" 
 
 261 
 
262 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Hyar's the map," and Grizzly Dan produced it. 
 "Hyar's the cross, marked, an' hyar's a hand p'intin' 
 down, an' hyar's the chief's feather, as sign o' the 
 mountain." 
 
 Again they all scrutinized the square of parchment- 
 like hide. 
 
 "But what's that sheep head got to do with it, 
 then?" queried Chet, alert. "Don't see any sheep 
 head; do you?" 
 
 "Not I," asserted Flapjack Jim. 
 
 They all surveyed blankly around. 
 
 "Maybe it's carved on the rock," proposed Phil. 
 
 Flapjack Jim shook his head. 
 
 " 'Tis not," claimed Flapjack Jim. "But yez can 
 look, to see." 
 
 "Come on and let's look," invited Chet. "Come on, 
 Phil." 
 
 He started; Phil followed; and leading Pepper and 
 Medicine Eye they did gingerly but closely search on 
 either side of the stricken camp, for sheep head picto- 
 graph as a token carved into the rock face. They did 
 not find it. 
 
 "No good," pronounced old Dan, when they plodded 
 back, disappointed. "No bueno." He was impatient 
 to be off. "Bad medicine all about us. Hull moun- 
 tain air medicine. We war lucky to get through this 
 fur, an' we air lucky to leave hyar. Better go pronto, 
 while we can. Wagh! Water! Water air what we 
 got to have, now, an' mighty quick. Lead pack- 
 critters, say I, an' skedaddle." 
 
 Without giving pause for any discussion he vaulted 
 
THE RED SMOKE 263 
 
 upon his spotted pony, and rode toward the tethered 
 pack-animals. So Phil and Chet likewise mounted. 
 
 "I belave," quoth Flapjack Jim, "that I'll take wan 
 more look around, whilst you be tindin' to the ani- 
 miles. I'll join yez presintly. Mebbe I can climb atop 
 an' view the country, an' see what's on other side." 
 
 "That's right," exclaimed Chet, inspired. "So will 
 we. Come on, Phil. 'Twon't take long." 
 
 "W-well," accepted Flapjack Jim, slowly. "Go 
 first, if yez like. I'll follow." 
 
 They proceeded, in a slight circuit to avoid the 
 water and to make for what appeared to be a break 
 in the rock wall. Almost there, abruptly it occurred 
 to Phil that they all seemed to be doing a heartless, 
 heathenish act, in abandoning those poor stricken 
 forms without bestowing upon them a single kindly 
 touch or saying over them a single prayer. They were 
 acting like unthinking animals. 
 
 He involuntarily halted Pepper. And looking 
 aside, he saw that Flapjack Jim must have had this 
 very thing in mind, for there he was, bare-headed, 
 in the camp, performing the friendly offices. 
 
 "Pshaw!" murmured Phil, ashamed. "We ought 
 to help, Chet." 
 
 Chet looked. "I should say. Hold the hawsses." 
 
 "I'll go," announced Phil. "You stay; or ride up 
 to the top, if you want to." And slipping from the 
 saddle he went across to Flapjack Jim. 
 
 The little Irishman glanced at him approaching, and 
 smiled sheepishly. " 'Tis only dacent," he explained. 
 "They be men, with souls in 'em; an' mebbe not sich 
 
264 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 bad men, after all. But bad or good, God rest 'em. 
 We'll do what we can, before we lave 'em." 
 
 "I wasn't sayin' anythin' about it, to yez," he con- 
 tinued, as now aided by Phil he adjusted the forms 
 into more attractive postures, and around them folded 
 their blankets, covering them. The gravel was only 
 a few inches deep, so that no grave could be dug. "I 
 jist thought I'd tidy the place up a bit. Well," he 
 added, now standing hat in hand, "peace be with 'em. 
 Somebody'll miss 'em, but we don't know who. Any- 
 way, sure they have a grand place an' a grand monu- 
 ment here on top o' the mountain, under a great an' 
 iverlastin' cross. 'Twas greed that brought 'em to 
 sich endin' an' I suppose we might have been here, 
 ourselves. 'Tis a lesson." 
 
 Yes, reflected Phil, soberly, in the mad race they 
 might have been here themselves: arriving too tired 
 and eager and covetous to see in the cross anything 
 but sordid gain. 
 
 "The water be arsenic," remarked Flapjack Jim, as 
 if reading his mind. "A few minutes taken for a 
 shmall tist o' the crystals it be depositin' would have 
 shown. But they were in too much of a hurry to 
 pause for tistin'." 
 
 Having done the best that they could, they were re- 
 tiring when the voice of Chet, above, leaped to their 
 ears. With the horses he had climbed to the crest 
 of the rocky rampart. There he stood, he and Pepper 
 and Medicine Eye, outlined against the sky. 
 
 "Come on !" he cried. "Get Dan and come on, this 
 way." He pointed off, beyond him. "That red smoke's 
 
THE RED SMOKE 265 
 
 right over here. It's an awful big country. And I 
 believe the fog's rising." 
 
 "We will," called back Phil; and he and Jim has- 
 tened across to inform old Dan. 
 
 Grizzly Dan received them with scant ceremony. 
 He had gathered the lead-ropes of the pack-animals, 
 and ready upon his spotted pony was waiting. 
 
 "What's the matter? Got to get out o' hyar," he 
 rebuked. "No time for funerals an' sight-seein', 
 wagh! Do 'ee want to have to drink mule blood?" 
 
 Ugh! 
 
 "Chet sees something. He says to come that way. 
 Fog's rising," announced Phil. He released the rope 
 of Bonita (who was very glad to have him near 
 again), and took from Dan the rope of Cotton-tail. 
 Flapjack Jim assumed charge of the two burros. 
 
 "We'll go up thar, then," assented old Dan, 
 promptly. "Yep, fog air risin'; better keep to high 
 ground; mebbe find water. Drat it, feels like snow, 
 too." 
 
 Directed by Chet, they struck his trail, and through 
 a crumbling place in the rock wall they climbed to 
 the top. A chill wind smote their faces. But what 
 a view was this! The long summit of the mountain 
 ran away on right and left, bare and rocky and broken ; 
 overhead was naught but the pale sky and a pale sun 
 dimmed by a stealthy haze; below, the cloud bank 
 stretched like a whitish sea and nearer it seemed, as 
 if indeed it was rolling up. Warrior Peak was hidden 
 by it; no trace of Lost Park could be sighted; there 
 was not a familiar landmark; here in sky-land they 
 
266 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 moved alone, with not another living thing to bear 
 them company. 
 
 But Phil was too hungry and thirsty and worn to 
 enjoy the novelty of the situation. Moreover, the 
 atmosphere seemed threatening. The only matter that 
 made him temporarily forget their straits was Chet's 
 eager pointing, again, and his word: 
 
 "Look!" 
 
 They looked. The crimson vapor, like smoke, was 
 near and plain, along the mountain summit. It hung 
 motionless a beautiful, flame-like plume. 
 
 "But I see green, too! And blue and white and 
 yellow; every old color!" exclaimed Chet, wildly ex- 
 cited. "Watch close, now!" 
 
 They watched. As Chet had said, it did appear 
 as though there were occasional flashes of those other 
 hues, all dominated by that steady, vaporous plume 
 of brightest crimson, top-heavy and mysterious. 
 
 ( 'Tis a Garden o' Eden," murmured Flapjack Jim. 
 "I've thraveled the mountains over, for fifty year, an' 
 niver have I seen the like. Neither has Brownie. 
 The rid plume be the flamin' sword, mebbe." 
 
 "Shall we go?" queried Chet. "Might as well. 
 Wagh, but it's getting cold !" 
 
 "More medicine," quoth Grizzly Dan, shaking his 
 head. "But hyar we air, with fog nearin', from below, 
 an' sky gettin' ready to snow. High ground air our 
 best play. We'll go." 
 
 He led off. They followed, forming a cavalcade 
 winding on over the rock summit, the great elk 
 horns up-branching from Cotton-tail's pack showing 
 finely. 
 
THE RED SMOKE 267 
 
 The saddle of the mountain dipped, until the source 
 of the wondrous plume was above them, but still be- 
 fore. A gradual pass like a draw guided them by 
 easy way on the upward march again. It forked, 
 where they entered it and crossing the broad hollow 
 which was formed by these long, gravelly, rock- 
 foamed waves, from the rear of the procession Flap- 
 jack Jim's hail sounded cracked but exultant. 
 
 "The rid float! Yez rode right by a foine shmat- 
 terin' o' rid float. See?" 
 
 He held up his hand, clutching something. Strange 
 to say, the word sent through Phil no electric sensa- 
 tion, and it seemed not to affect old Dan and Chet, 
 either. They all rode stolidly on. Water was the 
 thought ; water, and escape from the snares into which 
 they had fallen. 
 
 Phil did glance casually at the ground, as they began 
 the slight ascent of the fork chosen by Dan; but no 
 float met his dulled gaze. Flapjack Jim did not an- 
 nounce more of it. It must have ceased, after they 
 left the hollow. Now the air was thick with driving 
 snow. 
 
 Breasting the biting wind and snow squall, they 
 reached the top. Suddenly, near and odd, a spectacle 
 burst upon their astonished sight. They had emerged 
 upon an irregular bench, containing their new goal : 
 and there below they beheld it all, the crimson sig- 
 nal, the green, the blue, the white, the yellow; all, 
 close before them. And Grizzly Dan threw high his 
 sinewy hand, clutching flintlock, and shouted : 
 
 "Hot springs ! That's what they air ! Hot springs ! 
 The smoke air steam." 
 
268 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "B'gorry!" exclaimed Flapjack Jim, toiling up. 
 "Geysers or 'most so." 
 
 Chet stared. Phil gasped. The marvel was be- 
 yond expression. Vaporous springs they were, 
 grouped in a round basin set amidst the rocks. On 
 all sides the rocks clustered, forming a cup; the cup 
 was rimmed with bright green ; and against the bright 
 green floated and eddied, rose and fell, the colored 
 steam, with the red plume larger and more steady 
 than the rest. The green was vegetation; the other 
 colors were the springs. 
 
 "Water, an' plenty," yelled old Dan. *Water an' 
 bilin'hot!" 
 
 With the animals pricking their ears, they rode on, 
 plastered by the snow. 
 
 "Keep hold to yore critters," warned Grizzly Dan. 
 "It may be more pizen." 
 
 "Faith," muttered Jim, "I hope not." 
 
 At the edge of the springs area they halted, and 
 curiously surveyed. Save for a smothered bubbling, 
 the springs made no noise. There must have been 
 twenty-five or thirty of them. Coarse grass, of vivid 
 green, grew luxuriantly around the area. Up amidst 
 it the springs sent spurts and wafts of many-colored 
 vapor, and patches of the grass were dyed by the 
 similarly colored stains. The green and the stains 
 made a veritable crazy-quilt, fantastically patterned. 
 From the center welled that mighty crimson plume, 
 sluggishly floating upward. Here the wind did not 
 strike. It swept over. 
 
 At sight of the grass, and at token of the waters, 
 
THE RED SMOKE 269 
 
 the horses and Betty the mule and the two burros 
 pricked forward their ears. Brownie vented an im- 
 patient "Hee-haw!" Cotton-tail whinnied; and whin- 
 nied Pepper and Medicine Eye, pawing the gravel. 
 
 Grizzly Dan dismounted. He passed his lines and 
 Betty's rope to Chet. 
 
 "Hyar's doin's," he uttered. "Let this coon 'xperi- 
 ment a leetle. Wagh!" he said, treading the marge. 
 "Tastes good to moccasins. Makes 'em feel like 
 dancin' medicine, it do." And "Wagh!" he ex- 
 claimed, drawing quickly back as he would tread 
 farther in. "Bilin' hot; bilin' hot" He murmured 
 plaintively. "Now, what air folks goin' to drink, I 
 want to know?" 
 
 "Dig a hole and let it seep in and cool," proposed 
 Chet. 
 
 "Might be poisoned, though," reminded Phil. 
 "Might make us sick, anyway." 
 
 The spotted pony grabbed a mouthful of the grass, 
 and quickly spat it out. 
 
 "Sure, it runs off somewhere," spoke Flapjack Jim. 
 "Let's follow 'round a bit an' see." 
 
 So they did, on rather forlorn hope. Occasionally 
 they came upon a small spread of seepage that prom- 
 ised well, in temperature; they found it warm but 
 it was so scummed and colored that they could not 
 risk drinking it, and the animals drew back with snorts 
 of disgust, in the same manner as they spat out the 
 grass. 
 
 Thus the little company made almost the circuit of 
 the bubbling, boiling pot, until suddenly they dis- 
 
270 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 covered the outlet. At the farther side the cup opened 
 slightly; through the opening flowed away the drain- 
 age. It formed a shallow stream, of richest amber, 
 the color of strong coffee; smooth and even, it flowed 
 without a sound, bordered by the rank green grass, 
 and emptying somewhere beyond. 
 
 Skirting the green bank, over the divide rode 
 Grizzly Dan, reconnoitering. The others waited, 
 their animals patient and interested, but dejected. 
 Old Dan raised his hand, and without turning beck- 
 oned. So they, too, proceeded. Incautiously stepping 
 in the silent stream Pepper jumped aside and snorted. 
 Evidently the stream was hot. 
 
 As they issued from the little pass filled with its 
 reddish yellow stream and its deceptive grass, another 
 wondrous spectacle unfolded before them. The 
 stream widened to a large pool, again green bordered, 
 enclosed by the red ramparts. The bowl was oblong, 
 or pointed like an egg. The pool lay at the large end ; 
 the farther end was fair and marshy; and standing 
 knee deep, facing them, watching their advance, was 
 a familiar personage. 
 
 'Thar he air/' quoth Grizzly Dan, nodding sagely. 
 "Thar he air, an' thar's his medicine. Wagh!" 
 
 "Huh!" ejaculated Chet, jerking forward his rifle, 
 and lowering it again. All gazed. 
 
 'Twas the big elk. There was no mistaking his 
 mighty antlers and his proud pose. He stood, un- 
 afraid, lord of the domain, by his stanch attitude 
 questioning the rights of these persistent invaders. As 
 if in bravado he cropped a few mouthfuls; and again 
 he stared, giving not an inch. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 
 
 "WELL, now, it seems like the place be occupied," 
 commented Flapjack Jim. "Is there room for all of 
 us, I wonder ?" 
 
 "Have to make room," declared old Dan. "Hyar's 
 grass for the eatin'. There must be water for the 
 drinkin'. The critter air a good sign. Mebbe other 
 critters come in, an' we'll get pot meat. I tell 'ee, 
 it air long past pot time. Empty meat-bag says so." 
 
 He rode forward. They followed, as usual. The 
 big elk had been observing. As they started on cir- 
 cuit of the pool, he changed position by a few paces, 
 nosing about and snorting, and comfortably lay down, 
 his legs under him. Thus he continued to watch. 
 
 "He hardly limps!" asserted Phil, astonished. 
 
 "This air his medicine; this air whar he gets his 
 medicine, an' is made strong agin," vouchsafed old 
 Dan. "An' I never saw the like. It must be heap 
 more medicine than our pool down at cabin, but 
 whether humans can stand it, I dunno. O' course, 
 he air medicine elk." 
 
 They passed around the pool, and arrived opposite 
 the marshy end. The big elk, lying out in the middle 
 of it, kept tab upon their movements, but made no 
 effort to resent or to escape. Rather, he appeared to 
 
 271 
 
272 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 be reserving his decision, as if fully confident of his 
 own ability. 
 
 Where the rock ramparts formed an elbow, and the 
 sun should be reflected warmly, old Dan halted, 
 dubiously surveying. The green marsh was before. 
 Its grasses grew clear to the red gravel, where they 
 stopped short. The red gravel continued on, firm and 
 level, to the face of the rampart walls. The spot 
 was inviting. 
 
 "Wall," uttered old Dan, dismounting, "mought as 
 well camp hyar for a spell an' see if critters'll eat or 
 drink, an' what's the chance for humans. This chile 
 air 'bout gone under, for food an' water; he air. An' 
 he can't chaw fust, for lack o' second. Let's off 
 saddles an' packs, anyhow, an' wait what happens, 
 whilst we scout a bit. Water can't be pizen, I reckon, 
 or elk wouldn't choose this for winterin' place." 
 
 "There isn't any fuel, though," objected Chet. 
 
 "No," admitted Grizzly Dan. "Mebbe we can find 
 enough for pot. Won't need much, 'cause water 
 comes already bilin' or 'most so." 
 
 If they all felt as exhausted as Phil, glad were they 
 of a short respite. He and Chet stiffly swung from 
 saddle, and joined in the work of stripping the 
 drooping, anxious animals. Dragging the rope by 
 which she had again been led, Bonita trotted greedily 
 to the marsh and sought about for a drink. 
 
 "Bonita! Here!" ordered Phil, mechanically; but 
 he was too late. Bonita was lapping. 
 
 Only a few laps did she take; then with curling 
 lips and disappointed mien she retreated, to take 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 273 
 
 stand upon the gravel and glare at the offending 
 brink. 
 
 That was a bad token. Leaving Cotton-tail, upon 
 whom he and Chet were at work, Phil ran down to 
 the edge. The water gleamed clear and amber, among 
 the grass tufts. He did not one bit mind the color; all 
 his being cried out for wetness. He dipped in his 
 finger. The water was warm, verging upon hot. He 
 put his finger to his mouth, and hastily scooping with 
 his hand quaffed of his palm. With an involuntary 
 "Ugh!" he spat out the mouthful. He could not 
 swallow it. The peculiar flavor was nauseous. 
 
 "What is it?" called Chet. He and Dan and Jim 
 and even the animals had been eagerly watching. 
 
 "Sulphur and quinine," announced Phil, as the 
 nearest combination that occurred to him. "Can't 
 swallow it." 
 
 "Hot?" 
 
 "Some." He trudged back, unsatisfied. In fact, 
 his mouth tasted worse than before. 
 
 "What are we going to do, then?" queried Chet, 
 generally, in dismay. 
 
 "My idee war, thar must be drinkable water 'round 
 hyar some'eres, on account o' elk bein' hyar," de- 
 livered old Dan. "With a leetle rest, an' a chance at 
 drink an' forage for the critters, 'arly in mornin' we 
 could make forced march down an' get through that 
 'ere cloud bank, an' reach white man country, all in 
 one day, 'fore we get snowed in." 
 
 "But look yez !" directed Flapjack Jim. "The elk 
 be drinkin' now, where he shtands!" 
 
274 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "And it's raining!" cried Chet. "Aw, the dickens! 
 It's rain instead of snow!" 
 
 Thus suddenly their attention was called from the 
 elk to the weather again. Yes, of a surety this was a 
 medicine mountain, with many spells by which it 
 rebuffed intruders. All about, like a white curtain of 
 a million strings let down, the snow was falling thick 
 and fast; but over the pool and over the springs it 
 changed to rain a cold, soaking rain. Phil shivered ; 
 shivered the animals. 
 
 " 'Tis wather, anyhow," said Flapjack Jim. "If 
 we only had a tub to catch it in !" 
 
 However, even as he spoke the rain, where they 
 stood, began to come mingled with snow, and instantly 
 the snow outbid the drops, until more quickly than is 
 told the little company were all enveloped in the storm 
 that had been closing around them. Above the sur- 
 face of the pool the flakes still turned to rain; the big 
 elk seemed to mind it not, as standing he sucked a 
 few draughts and browsed upon the grass about his 
 knees; but at the edges of the pool the flakes shot 
 down with soft, menacing hiss, making cold the gravel 
 and the wanderers who were huddled upon it. 
 Through the white veil the crimson steam from the 
 hot springs showed tantalizing. 
 
 "If we don't get under cover somehow we're liable 
 to be wiped out, some of us," asserted old Dan, as 
 with chattering teeth the four of them gazed vaguely 
 about. "This chile can't stand what he used to, he 
 can't. He air thirsty an' hungry an' wet an' froze, 
 all to onct. His medicine air powerful weak." 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 275 
 
 "Faith, we can sit in the pool, I'm thinkin', to kape 
 warm," proposed Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "I'd as soon be froze as biled," grunted old Dan, 
 shortly. "An' not bein' medicine elk we can't waller 
 in the grass. No ; we got to have food an' drink an' 
 fire an' cover, mighty quick." 
 
 "Stretch a tarp over some rocks. Let's find the 
 rocks, or sticks," said Chet. 
 
 "That's talk, proper," approved Grizzly Dan. 
 "Spread out an' hunt about lively." 
 
 Careless of the animals, leaving them they did so. 
 The snow was blinding, and striking out for himself 
 Phil speedily lost all sight of the others. In variety 
 of cover, the area around the pool and springs did not 
 seem to offer much choice; but he turned down along 
 the marshy end of the pool, on the qui vive for a rock 
 angle so constituted that a tarpaulin might be stretched 
 over for rude shelter from the wetness. Bonita paced 
 heavily at his heels. Through the white reek welled 
 the doleful "Hee-haw!" of Brownie, distressed at 
 being abandoned. 
 
 Amidst the near distance ahead showed faintly in a 
 high outcrop or rock rampart a cavelike crack that 
 gave Phil hope. Closer, it appeared to be an opening 
 among boulders. But when he arrived, to inspect, the 
 opening was a longish, narrow passage, with the walls 
 on either hand so high that a tarp laid over would 
 have little effect. It was a miniature canon, the rim 
 a narrow crack. 
 
 Through the passage trudged Phil, now in his disap- 
 pointment wetter and colder and hungrier and thirstier 
 
276 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 than ever. The canon turned to the right; and sud- 
 denly he emerged in front of a genuine cave, also on 
 his right, with a long pit extending down the slope 
 before it. 
 
 His heart beat violently. These looked like more 
 workings like another ancient mine! Then caught 
 his eye, to thrill him afresh, an enormous skull, of 
 twain cornucopia horns, somehow posted over the cave 
 portal. The Sheep-horn Mine ! It must be it must 
 be the Sheep-horn Mine, for the prodigious sheep- 
 horns had been the sign on the map. 
 
 At any event, the cave promised shelter. Snow was 
 covering all exposed objects, blending them together; 
 but the cave was there. Scrambling along the edge of 
 the long pit, followed by the faithful Bonita he gained 
 the entrance, and peered in. 
 
 All was silence, save for the soft swish of the fast 
 falling flakes. The interior of the cave rapidly nar- 
 rowed, and soon closed. The floor was hard rock; 
 the ceiling, six feet above, seemed of hard rock; and 
 the walls looked to be hard rock. It was not a large 
 cave; it was more a short tunnel. But over the 
 entrance was that gigantic sheep' skull. 
 
 Phil did not much delay. He felt that he ought to 
 tell his comrades, at once, for here was a haven from 
 the storm. Back he hastened, filled with his news. 
 He retraversed the miniature canon, and panted forth 
 to the marsh and the pool. The green, with the yel- 
 low water beyond it, fairly shone amidst the whiteness 
 now coating even the red gravel shore. On the shore 
 the animals were still standing about, licking the snow, 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 277 
 
 or hunched miserable and dismayed. Flapjack Jim 
 was there, too, as if he had just come in, and Phil 
 hailed him with glad report of the cave. 
 
 "It has a pair of big sheep-horns, skull and all, stuck 
 up over the entrance," added Phil. "Maybe it's the 
 map mine." 
 
 "I hope the roof doesn't lake, anyway," said Jim. 
 "The weather's mortal wet." He shivered. "Now, 
 where be the others?" 
 
 "I'll signal them in," and upon the snowy air Phil's 
 little carbine spoke flatly: "Crack!" And, presently, 
 again "Crack!" 
 
 He was just about to fire once more, when Chet 
 came hurrying along, with old Dan barely visible be- 
 hind him. Wet and wan they were, but Phil's tidings 
 chirked them up a little. 
 
 "We'll have to tote this hyar stuff, as much of it as 
 we can, right over thar," spoke old Dan, decisively. 
 "What we don't take time to pack now we can cover 
 an' leave. Main thing air to get settled somehow 'fore 
 dark. Yes, an' get pot to bilin', an' somethin' warm 
 inside o' us." 
 
 "We can't get a pack-hawss through that rock pass," 
 informed Phil, suddenly bethinking. "We can hardly 
 get a saddle through." 
 
 "All right. We'll carry, by ourselves," promptly 
 declared the cheerful little Irishman. 
 
 Rapidly they gathered necessary articles. 
 
 "Did you see ary wood over thar?" demanded old 
 Dan of Phil. 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
278 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Wall, I'll take pot, jest the same," mumbled old 
 Dan. 
 
 Heavily laden, they set out, piloted by Phil. It was 
 weary work, trudging thus through the storm, while 
 tired and hungry and thirsty; but they reached the 
 cave, and with a grunt one after another they dropped 
 their loads. 
 
 "Yis, 'tis ould workin's, agin," affirmed Flapjack 
 Jim, gazing around. "I can see the marks o' the 
 tools." 
 
 "That's shore a big sheep head," commented Chet, 
 craning back to look. "Wonder if it's the sign that 
 we're in the Frapp Mine ? I don't call this much of a 
 mine." 
 
 "We'd better get more camp stuff. Dan and Jim 
 can stay here and be fixing things up," proposed Phil. 
 
 "Fetch the pack-saddles in when you come," bade 
 old Dan, as they left. 
 
 On their return from the second trip they found 
 that the two men had been sorting out the medley of 
 stuff, and that the old trapper was surveying, in 
 mournful manner, his battered brass pot. 
 
 "Did ye bring the pack-saddles?" he queried. 
 "Wagh! We got to have fire, an' they'll burn." 
 
 "Aw, going to burn our pack-saddles?" asked Chet, 
 astounded. 
 
 "Yis; pack-saddles first, my boy, an' nixt the ould 
 wooden leg o' me," informed Flapjack Jim, gaily. 
 "An' nixt the pick handles." 
 
 "Must have fire," repeated Grizzly Dan. "Hyar's 
 a coon who needs water, an' he needs coffee, an' he 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 279 
 
 needs pot meat, an' he needs to dry his moccasins. So 
 do rest o' ye. It air a long trail down mountain. 
 This snow air partly a blessin' in disguise. Critters 
 can lick it, for water/' 
 
 "Of course. That's the way the cows and horses 
 live, all winter, out on the range," agreed Chet. 
 
 "An* it'll wash off the grass so mebbe they'll graze 
 a little, after while. But we got to melt snow, an' we 
 can't eat grass, an' jerked meat air nigh gone. What's 
 left'll do better in pot. This chile's teeth seem to be 
 failin' him, when it comes to stiddy diet o' leather." 
 
 "An' if the flour be n't too wet, I'll make yez some 
 flapjacks, if yez'll furnish the wather," proffered Jim. 
 
 So it promised to be a better camp than might have 
 been expected. 
 
 Dan and Jim went to work on the pack-saddles, 
 choosing the oldest and cutting it apart. The saw- 
 buck construction would supply wood enough for the 
 fire. 
 
 "We can gather the snow with the gould-pan an' 
 fill the kittle, b'jabers," suggested Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Come on," said Chet to Phil. 
 
 Phil bearing the kettle and Chet the pan they 
 sallied forth, after snow. The snow was thick in 
 the air, and already the layer upon the earth was two 
 inches deep, concealing all objects. Before the mouth 
 of the cave was the long, shallow pit, and beyond, the 
 country sloped away, wild and broken and bare, until 
 veiled by the storm and distance. 
 
 "I'd like to get up there and take down that sheep 
 head, wouldn't you?" asked Chet, as they busily 
 
280 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 scraped with hands and pans, to fill the kettle. "It's 
 yours. You saw it first." 
 
 "Maybe I will, then," admitted Phil. "Listen! 
 Jim's using his pick. Perhaps he's struck something 
 in there." 
 
 "Here's your skull. No there it goes!" cried 
 Chet. "Didn't take much to knock it down. He 
 must have jarred it loose." 
 
 The thud of Jim's pick, inside the cave, had been 
 followed at once by the fall of the sheep-skull. 
 Bounding and sliding on its great horns, it had rolled 
 clear to the bottom of the shallow pit. With an excla- 
 mation, now after it plowed Phil, to rescue it. His 
 kettle, insecurely left for Chet, followed him. 
 
 He made a broad trail, and landed with a scattering 
 of snow and dirt. 
 
 "Never hurt it," he called up, examining the skull. 
 "It's a whopper. I can hardly lift it." The skull, 
 like Chet's elk-horns, spanned from tip to tip as wide 
 as Phil could reach, or would stand almost as high as 
 he was tall. 
 
 "After we get snow enough, I'll help you haul it 
 out," proffered Chet. 
 
 But Phil, letting it fall, had stooped and from the 
 little area where he had been tramping about and twist- 
 ing the skull he picked a small object, which he 
 scrutinized in his fingers. 
 
 "Float!" he shouted. "Here's a chunk of that red 
 float. Oh, jiminy!" and he stooped again. "Here's 
 a big chunk! Biggest we've seen. This place is full 
 of float, I reckon." 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 281 
 
 "Sure, if that's the Frapp Mine," responded Chet; 
 and he too came plunging, plowing down, excited. 
 
 As they scraped amidst the snow, laying bare spot 
 after spot, they constantly uncovered fragments of the 
 bricky red rock. It was so abundant and so large in 
 pieces, that it must have collected from a near-by 
 source. The cave, just above, seemed likely to have 
 been the mother of it all. 
 
 The blows of Jim's pick had ceased, and the voice 
 of Grizzly Dan issued querulous, along with the blue 
 tinge of smoke. 
 
 "Hyar's fire, but whar's water, an' my pot?" 
 
 "We'd better be getting back," warned Chet. 
 
 Stuffing float into their pockets and lugging the sheep 
 skull, the boys climbed out; and hurriedly filling the 
 kettle and the pan, they bore their burden and their 
 news into the cave. 
 
 Carefully bunched, a small fire was beginning to 
 blaze freely. Grizzly Dan was squatting beside it, 
 smoking his short black pipe and warming his hands 
 and feet and knees. The coffee-pot was ready for 
 service. Bonita was sitting, dozy. Flapjack Jim, 
 also squatting, was putting some rock fragments to test 
 of microscope and tongue and knife-blade and other 
 means. His erstwhile merry, withered-apple counte- 
 nance seemed rather doleful. 
 
 "Wagh! It air time for that 'ere water," grunted 
 Grizzly Dan, seizing kettle and pan, and holding the 
 pan over the flames. "Fire war goin' to waste. What 
 'ee got thar? That old sheep skull? Never sech 
 sheep run the mountains these days." 
 
282 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "He fell down from over the entrance, when some- 
 body was using a pick in here," vouchsafed Phil. 
 "So we brought him up. I want him." 
 
 "Fell down, did he?" mused old Dan, turning the 
 pan about as the snow melted. "It air medicine sign. 
 He's been sittin' up thar for fifty year, I reckon, 
 waitin' for visitors; an' now we've broke the spell." 
 
 "Do you think this is the Frapp Mine, then?" 
 queried Phil, alert. 
 
 Grizzly Dan soberly nodded and took a long drink 
 out of the pan. 
 
 "Wagh!" he gasped, more satisfied. "Yep, o' 
 course this is Frapp Mine, or as much as it amounts 
 to. Don't 'ee see, boy? The cross on the map war 
 the cross o' the mountain, at other end o' saddle; an' 
 that red plume that we took to be chief sign war the 
 red steam at those thar hot springs. Now, hyar's an 
 old hole, right close to hot springs, whar the hand sort 
 o' p'inted, an' hyar's the big sheep-head, with the 
 horns. An' hyar air we chawin' leather an' drinkin' 
 snow-water, with an old sheep-head for our pains." 
 
 Grumbling, Grizzly Dan proceeded to melt the snow 
 and prepare to make a stew for dinner or supper, 
 whichever the meal might be. Meanwhile, as he had 
 said, he "chawed leather," in shape of a strip of the 
 jerked meat, which hung down upon his whiskers ere 
 it was slowly engulfed. 
 
 "But didn't you find anything?" inquired Phil, 
 anxiously, of Flapjack Jim. "We heard you picking. 
 Isn't this mineral?" 
 
 "Mineral!" answered Flapjack Jim. "Yis; of its 
 
THE SHEEP-HORN MINE 283 
 
 kind. Want to look at some? Here, then," and he 
 handed up a piece from his collection. Scrambling to 
 his foot and peg he stumped to the end of the cave 
 and struck the wall a blow with his pick. The pick 
 rang smartly. "An' here be more of it. Do yez 
 know the sound?" 
 
 "Sounds like iron," hazarded Phil. He and Chet 
 were examining the piece given them for the purpose. 
 "This is iron, too, isn't it? Mighty hard and heavy." 
 
 "Iron, with the gould in," confirmed Flapjack Jim, 
 stumping back. He tossed aside his pick, as if finished 
 with it. " 'Tis the mother o' the float we've been fol- 
 lowin', but 'tis what they call a r-re-fr-ractory ore; 
 a refractory ore, my lads, an' the gould it has the 
 gould it kapes, for all man can do to get it out. I've 
 niver seen the same but wance before, but I sort o' 
 suspected, after what the professor man said, below. 
 It be an ore workable only on the surface, where rain 
 an' snow an' sun an' air an' heat an' cold have treated 
 it for long, long years. Then it became the shtuff 
 that we've picked up as float. But beyant, out o' the 
 weather, it shtays hard arrah, har-rder than Pha- 
 raoh's heart; an' no furnace or chimical pro-cess o' 
 man has yit dragged the gould out of it." 
 
 "Oh, shucks !" bemoaned Chet. But he brightened. 
 "We've found a lot more float, though. It's knee- 
 deep, down in the bottom of that hollow in front. 
 See? We've got our pockets full." 
 
 "That's right," supported Phil. 
 
 "Well, now," crooned Flapjack Jim, also brighten- 
 ing. "We'll do the best we can with the float, then. 
 Like as not there may be quite a bit there." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 BACK WITH THE SPOILS 
 
 THE storm was furiously beleaguering, and above 
 the white expanse of earth and air the darkling sky 
 indicated another early evening. Here in the bare 
 cave, on the very top of a high, wild Western moun- 
 tain where man apparently had not visited before 
 through half a century, with little fire and little food 
 and many miles to go, the party of two men, two boys, 
 and a dog might still have been less fortunate. They 
 might have had no cave, and no fire, and no warm 
 food. 
 
 By fastening a tarpaulin across the entrance the 
 boys managed to shut out most of the draught and the 
 snowflakes that would waft in. The fire, carefully 
 bunched, shed constant warmth, and some smoke ; and 
 around it, amidst the smoke, like Indians they 
 squatted, blanket or robe enfolded, while the jerked 
 meat stew simmered in the gold-pan and coffee 
 steamed in the coffee-pot, and snow melted in the 
 brass kettle. 
 
 It was a good supper, for to eke out the stew 
 Flapjack Jim, as he had promised, made up a batch 
 of cakes, using the scraped-clean pan and the last of 
 his flour. 
 
 Comfortable, Phil thought upon the animals, out 
 
 284 
 
BACK WITH THE SPOILS 285 
 
 in the storm, by the pool. But he reflected that the 
 pool was warm, and that the snow quenched the 
 thirst, and that the grass might become more palatable 
 or that the animals would grow used to it. And 
 they had the big elk for example and company. 
 
 " 'Tis my idee," vouchsafed Flapjack Jim, speak- 
 ing of the "mine," which now sheltered them, "that 
 the pit before an' this hole above be the pockets o' 
 day-com-posed shtuff, where by action o' weather the 
 har-rd iron ore had been made soft. The ould-time 
 miners claned 'em out as yez see. Whether they 
 finished the lode, or whether it lades on back indefi- 
 nitely under the ground, I can't tell; an' the snow be 
 kivverin' up other outcrops, if there be any. But all we 
 could hope for would be more spots o' shtuff softened 
 by weather; after we got down in earnest, we'd come 
 to the har-rd, untrateable ore agin. So now I guiss 
 we know about the Frapp Mine, b'gorry." 
 
 "Cap'n Frapp never would have stayed to make 
 sech a hole, 'cept to cache pelts an' possibles in," 
 declared Grizzly Dan, wagging his shaggy head, while 
 he puffed at his pipe. "Hole an' all must have been 
 hyar, 'fore he traveled through. He war a trapper, 
 he war ; he war a beaver hunter, an' he had no time or 
 eye for mineral. When he war hyar he may have 
 tuk the scrapin's an' packed 'em down ; but he war not 
 a miner. Wagh !" 
 
 "The inside surely be scraped clane," agreed Flap- 
 jack Jim. "But belike we can gather up a bit of float, 
 in the hollow forninst, to take along with us as good 
 day's wages." 
 
286 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "A ton would be ten thousand dollars," murmured 
 Chet, sleepily. 
 
 Likewise sleepy, Phil pondered over the fact. 
 However, he decided that it was scarcely possible for 
 them to find and dig out and pack a ton of the right 
 kind of rock, before their wood and provisions failed. 
 And Grizzly Dan seemed to be aware of the difficulties, 
 for he grunted, rolling in his robe : 
 
 "Not much time for diggin', I tell 'ee all. If we 
 stay 'round hyar we'll be snowed in so deep that after 
 'nother fifty years somebody'll dig us out. We'll 
 have to travel for lower country." 
 
 In the morning they peered out upon a world of 
 dazzling white. The sky had cleared and the sun was 
 shining, but all Red Chief lay covered with six inches 
 of snow. Before the cave was naught but the blue 
 sky, and the vast, broken slope of the mountain fall- 
 ing away to the reddish foot-hills and the dark-green 
 timber below the snow-line. In the one direction was 
 to be traced the distant crest, itself also white, of War- 
 rior Peak. Surely, winter had come to the high 
 country. In the other direction, nearer, floated 
 between white and blue the crimson plume of the hot 
 springs. 
 
 Reminded, Phil trudged away to the pool, to inspect 
 the horse, mule, and burro herd. He found them 
 doing very well. Their thirst had evidently been 
 quenched, and they were even cropping about, select- 
 ing the sweeter of the coarse grass. Brownie greeted 
 him with a vehement "Hee-haw!" (which probably 
 drifted as music to the ears of Flapjack Jim). In the 
 
BACK WITH THE SPOILS 287 
 
 marsh the big elk was grazing, unperturbed by com- 
 pany. Returning to the cave, and to breakfast, Phil 
 reported. 
 
 Grizzly Dan had wakened not feeling, as he termed 
 it, "extra pert." He was stiff, and achy, and barely 
 able to hobble about. In fact, he was getting old! 
 At eighty-odd years he could not stand as much as 
 once he could. Flapjack Jim, who was only about 
 seventy, seemed little the worse for wear, despite the 
 long climb that he had made afoot. 
 
 So, since the animals were doing well, and the storm 
 was past, they decided that they might safely put in 
 part of the day, at least, here around the old diggings. 
 This would give Dan time to limber up and themselves 
 a chance to probe for float. 
 
 The bottom of the hollow or shallow pit was ten 
 inches deep with the snow that had drifted down. 
 The boys set to work early, shoveling with spade 
 and scraping with pick, to clear the ground. Flapjack 
 Jim came sliding down, to help and to pass judgment. 
 The first spadeful of the loose deposit upturned satis- 
 fied him. 
 
 "Sure," he said, "if there be plinty o' this we'll 
 make a little shtake yit, although 'twill be no bonanzy. 
 But bonanzies don't grow on ivery bush. Did yez 
 iver see a rich prospector ? No. An' did yez iver see 
 a poor wan? No, for we're always 'xpectin' to be 
 rich, an' nade only the big shtrike that's waitin' over 
 the hill." 
 
 "Which doesn't pan out, when you get to it, lots of 
 times," quoth Phil, wisely. 
 
288 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Well/' mused the little Irishman, "there be so 
 many hills. " 
 
 The float did indeed prove plentiful. It had 
 weathered off, from the lead above, and had here col- 
 lected through the years, while other fragments were 
 traveling down the surface of the mountain. But the 
 work was a back-breaking, leg-tiring business, clear- 
 ing the snow, shoveling the pieces large and small into 
 ore-sacks, and lugging the sacks to the rim. Every- 
 thing that would hold soft rock was pressed into ser- 
 vice; and the three laborers were just despairing* 
 because they were running short of carrying capacity 
 (even though Phil and Chet were now stuffing their 
 pockets), when the deposit ended. 
 
 They had scraped and shoveled down to solid rock, 
 when suddenly Flapjack Jim called a halt. 
 
 "Wait," he bade. "We be into sterile ground, I'm 
 thinkin'. See? Now you're diggin' at the mountain 
 itself. Let it shtay, lads. It's been here a long 
 time." 
 
 That was true. The character of the debris lining 
 the bottom of the hollow had changed; and from the 
 soft bricky deposit they had entered upon the same 
 red formation of which the mountain was made. 
 They paused regretfully. 
 
 "If we could but make a placer o' this," said Flap- 
 jack Jim, "an' wash out the gravel, faith, mebbe we'd 
 turn it into a bonanzy after all. But we haven't the 
 time an' the wather, jist at prisent." He sighed. 
 "Or if it wasn't for the snow, then we might trace 
 some outcrops shtill, an' shtrike another bonanzy. 
 
BACK WITH THE SPOILS 289 
 
 But I guiss we've got enough for the day. At laste, 
 'tis all we can carry down." 
 
 The voice of old Dan interrupted. He was sitting, 
 like some gray eagle, in the sunshine at the mouth of 
 the cave above, smoking his pipe while he surveyed 
 the operations below and the snowy country on- 
 stretching, in broken descent, before. 
 
 "Strangers comin'," he announced. "Get yore 
 weepons." 
 
 Following the trail they had made, they scrambled 
 out. Over the white mountain-side were advanc- 
 ing black specks, two horsemen and two pack- 
 animals. 
 
 " 'Tisn't Charley, anyway," decided Chet, quickly, 
 as they all gazed. 
 
 "No. White men," grunted Grizzly Dan. "Wagh ! 
 They're f etchin' meat, too. See it ?" 
 
 Old Dan's eyes were marvelous, for distance; but 
 Chet's were only a little less in keenness. 
 
 "I see it," he said in a minute. "A deer, slung on 
 that first pack-hawss." 
 
 "More prospectors, I wonder?" queried Flapjack 
 Jim. "Late they be, then. 'Tis our claim, an' we've 
 earned it, entirely." 
 
 "No, they aren't prospectors, I think," denied Chet, 
 slowly. And he waxed excited. "I know them!" 
 he cried. "You wait, now. I know them ! Anyway, 
 I reckon I do." 
 
 To Phil also the twain approaching figures upon 
 the horses looked familiar; recognition struggled 
 within him. 
 
2QQ TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "That sure looks like Old Jess," he stammered, sur- 
 prised and scarce believing. "That sure does!" 
 
 "It is, too," confirmed Chet. "The first one's Dad, 
 on Monte. The other's Old Jess, on Lady. Wouldn't 
 that kill yuh! Hurray!" 
 
 "Hurray '."cheered Phil. 
 
 He and Chet stood and wildly waved their hats, 
 while they vented a shrill cowboy yell. 
 
 The two horsemen waved gauntleted hands in 
 answer. 
 
 "They must be friends o' yourn, I take it," remarked 
 Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "I should say so!" assured Phil. "One is Chet's 
 father and the other is the old Bar B foreman. He's 
 ridden after cows as long as you've hunted gold. He's 
 a Texas Trail man." 
 
 "Bueno," chuckled Grizzly Dan. "I'll make pot 
 ready for some o' that thar meat." And he bustled 
 within. 
 
 The riders with their two pack-horses drew near. 
 The boys rushed to meet them. The foremost, Mr. 
 Simms, Chet's father, was a hawk-visaged, tall, lean- 
 flanked plainsman and mountain-rancher, with crisp 
 gray mustache and short goatee. Straight of back 
 and long of limb, he sat his horse securely, even 
 sternly. His companion, a small, rather stooped, and 
 much wrinkled and weather-beaten man, was known 
 as Old Jess. He had been a cow-puncher in the early 
 cattle days of the Southwest and West, and for many 
 years had been Mr. Simms' comrade and helper on the 
 Bar B cattle-range and lastly on the Circle K sheep 
 
BACK WITH THE SPOILS 291 
 
 range. Phil knew both of the men well, for he had 
 served with them. 
 
 Now he was "mighty" glad to see them; so was 
 Chet. 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 "Hello, there." 
 
 There was shaking of hands. Bonita yapped 
 madly, as excited as anybody. 
 
 "Where're you going, Dad?" 
 
 "Oh, just riding through, on a little vacation. 
 Aren't you about as high as you can get?" 
 
 "It's the jumping-off place," answered Phil, all 
 agrin. 
 
 "Reckon we'll jump, then," smiled Mr. Simms, suit- 
 ing the action to the word, and dismounting as along 
 the rim of the shallow pit they arrived at the cave. 
 
 'Wagh!" greeted Grizzly Dan. "Welcome. Wel- 
 come to friends who fetch in meat to camp. Pot's 
 bilin'." 
 
 Mr. Simms and Old Jess shook hands with him, and 
 also with Flapjack Jim. 
 
 "Turned prospectors, have ye?" asked Old Jess, of 
 Phil. "Cow-puncher, sheep-herder, trapper, an' now 
 prospector. You certainly are 1'arnin' the West, aren't 
 you, boy! Well, what've you found? Looks as if 
 you'd been gopherin' quite a bit, jedgin' from that 
 hole in the hollow." 
 
 "Gold," informed Phil, importantly. "Ten 
 thousand dollars to the ton." 
 
 "How many tons have you got?" asked Mr. Simms, 
 quizzically. 
 
292 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 "Five or six hundred pounds, anyhow," declared the 
 sturdy Chet. "All we can pack." 
 
 "An' pretty near snowed in, to boot," accused his 
 father. "We'll help you pack it down and mighty 
 quick, too, before another storm sets in." 
 
 "Bueno," approved Grizzly Dan. "That's what I 
 war thinkin'. This air pore place to winter at, with- 
 out meat or wood or any water 'cept snow-water 
 which air bad for the stomick. Shall I help self to 
 that 'ere venison?" 
 
 "Sure," encouraged Mr. Simms. "That's what it's 
 for. And in the pack on that bald- face hawss you'll 
 find a chunk o' cedar, in case you're short o' fuel. 
 We brought it along on purpose." 
 
 "You see," he continued, as they all busied them- 
 selves to make a gala meal of it, "Jess and I concluded 
 to take a little hunt, for the fun of it; first vacation 
 we've either of us had in twenty years. Rather sus- 
 pected you folks were up this way, and down below 
 we met up with Charley Pow-wow and a couple of 
 other Injuns, who said they'd seen you. From their 
 talk we reckoned you were liable to be hard put, 
 'specially after the storm. They said this country 
 was 'bad' with no wood or good water or any cover, 
 or forage for the animals and snow piling up twenty 
 feet deep. 'Heap bad medicine,' too, they said. 
 Guess we got here in plenty of time, though. But 
 aren't you ready to go down?" 
 
 "B'gorry, I'm ready," asserted Flapjack Jim. 
 "There be nothin' more to do here till the snow be off. 
 We've made our clane-up, sich as it is." 
 
BACK WITH THE SPOILS 293 
 
 "How much do you suppose you'll clear, out of that 
 mess o' rock stuff ?" 
 
 "Mebbe eighteen hundred or two thousand dollars," 
 responded Flapjack Jim. "If we can get it down." 
 
 "We'll get it down, all right," assured Mr. Simms, 
 grimly. "And if Chet has any share, that will come 
 in handy on improvements on some land I've picked 
 out for him to work at." 
 
 "Are we going to ranch it, Dad?" queried Chet, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, sir. We're going to be farmers, if all goes 
 well and we'll make it go well. I've located a half- 
 section that'll need all the time and money we can 
 give it. Not an inch of it is cultivated yet; but it's 
 good land." 
 
 "Isn't Phil in on it with us?" demanded Chet, at 
 once. 
 
 "You and he are together, if he says so." 
 
 "I shore say so, then," declared Phil. "I'll throw 
 in my share of the clean-up with yours, Chet. We'll 
 make things hum." 
 
 "Bueno," grunted Grizzly Dan. "That's right. I 
 air a trapper, an' Jim he air a gold-hunter, an' we 
 both air pore 'cause we never settled down. Land air 
 the thing. That's where the livin' lies an* a good 
 healthy livin', too." 
 
 "Right you are," assented Flapjack Jim; and Old 
 Jess nodded. 
 
 After a big dinner they worked fast, for the down- 
 ward trail. Mr. Simms and Old Jess briefly inspected 
 the hot springs and the pool of the elk. The animals 
 
294 TREASURE MOUNTAIN 
 
 were piloted through the narrow passage, and packed 
 again. And well it was that there were now plenty 
 of them, for the rock was bulky and a dead weight. 
 The sun had crossed the line of noon before ar- 
 rangements were complete. Then, leaving the medi- 
 cine springs dominated by the crimson plume, leaving 
 the big elk in his high wintering quarters, and the bare 
 cave staring out over the lonely white expanse, with 
 the elk-horns and the sheep-skull riding high and the 
 Soft ore hanging heavy, down for the low country filed 
 the laden cavalcade. 
 
Stirring ^Books for Boys 
 
 BY EDWIN L. SABIN 
 
 A Story-teller of the Great West of Yesterday 
 Thomas Y. Crowell Company - New York 
 
and Trail Series 
 
 BAR B BOYS ; or, the Young Cow Punchers 
 
 Phil, an Eastern boy, goes West to regain his 
 health. He misses a train, is picked up by Indians, 
 joins a ranch of cowboys, and after a variety of 
 adventures learns to throw a rope with the best 
 of them. 
 
 RANGE AND TRAIL ; or, The Bar B's Great Drive 
 
 Phil and his chum, Chet, after a hard winter on 
 the ranch, go with other cowboys to drive up a 
 fresh herd of cattle from New Mexico. Scenes of 
 the long trail are replete with color and excite- 
 ment. 
 
 CIRCLE K; or, Fighting for the Flock 
 
 The Bar B outfit go in for raising sheep, and 
 through the medium of their new adventures the 
 reader learns many interesting facts regarding this 
 great industry. There are thrills a-plenty, leading 
 up to the introduction of Grizzly Dan, the old 
 trapper. 
 
 OLD FOUK-TOES; or, Hunters of the Peaks 
 
 Phil and Chet go with Grizzly Dan on a hunting 
 trip among the passes, peaks, and precipices of the 
 Lost Park country. They have brushes with hostile 
 Indians, and get on the trail of a famous grizzly 
 bear, "Old Four-Toes." With them we see another 
 graphic phase of Western life. 
 
 TREASUKE MOUNTAIN; or the Young Prospectors 
 
 Here the boys turn their attention in still an- 
 other important channel that of gold mining. 
 They set out to locate a lost mine on a Rocky 
 Mountain peak, and find but the reader must fol- 
 low their varied adventures for himself. It is a 
 story of surprises. 
 
 SCARF ACE RANCH ; or, the Young Homesteaders 
 
 Here we bid farewell to Phil and Chet and their 
 friends. The boys have taken up another great 
 branch of Western life, that of the homesteader. 
 who stakes his claim, clears his ground, and tills 
 his soil. Like all the preceding stories, this has a 
 wholesome, inspiriting flavor. 
 
 Each Book Strikingly Illustrated 
 
The Great West Series 
 
 THE BOY SETTLER; or, Terry in the New West 
 
 In the frontier days of the West, when Terry 
 Richard drove his ox team across the plains, he 
 opened to himself and his boy reader friends a wide 
 sweep of adventures all narrated so naturally and 
 realistically, that you feel they must have been true. 
 
 THE GREAT PIKE'S PEAK RUSH ; or, Terry in the 
 New Gold Fields 
 
 Terry and his dog, Shep, accompany Harry Re- 
 vere on a six hundred mile trek across to Colorado, 
 spurred on by the lure of gold. It is the great 
 "Pike's Peak or Bust" rush of 1859, when boys were 
 called upon to play the part of men. 
 
 ON THE OVERLAND STAGE ; or, Terry as a King 
 Whip Cub 
 
 Here we have the next phase of Western devel- 
 opment in the rise of the overland stage route 
 leading from St. Joe clear across to Sacramento. 
 With Terry, who helps drive stage, we meet Buffalo 
 Bill, Sam Clemens, and other worth while people 
 also some not so much worth while, but no less to 
 be reckoned with. 
 
 OPENING THE IRON TRAIL; or, Terry in the Great 
 Railroad Race 
 
 As a logical sequel to the stage coach came the 
 building of the Union Pacific Railroad an under- 
 taking so fraught with danger and romance, that 
 no single book could hope to compass the entire 
 picture. This book is a fine achievement a really 
 big story. 
 
 A Boy Scout Story 
 
 PLUCK ON THE LONG TRAIL; or, Boy Scouts in the 
 Kockies 
 
 How a patrol of Boy Scouts took an important 
 message one hundred miles across the Colorado 
 mountains, and the perils they successfully with- 
 stood, is the subject of this lively story. 
 
 Each Book Strikingly Illustrated 
 
An Author Who Brings a Personal 
 Message From The Great West 
 
 Edwin L. Sabin, the author of the Western stories 
 here listed, is not only a "big" writer, but also a 
 big man as you can guess from his accompanying 
 picture. Better still, he is a man who has lived 
 in much of the atmosphere of his stories. He is 
 a keen outdoorsman, who loves to throw his rifle 
 across the hollow of his arm,, or whip the stream 
 for trout. 
 
 Mr. Sabin has always lived in "the big West," 
 and knows personally the trail extending straight 
 across plain and mountain to the Pacific Coast, 
 which he so graphically describes. He tried being 
 a cowboy on a Colorado ranch sixty miles from the 
 nearest railroad. He also tried sheep ranching, 
 just like Phil and Chet, his heroes. He has travelled 
 across country by wagon, on horseback, and on 
 "shank's mares." He has hobnobbed with Indian 
 tribes, and talked with the last of the old plains- 
 men, who knew Fremont, Kit Carson, General Cus- 
 ter, Sam Houston, Buffalo Bill, and General Dodge 
 he who laid the real U. P. Trail. 
 
 Because of this intimate knowledge and personal 
 acquaintance, he makes us see again the picturesque 
 West of yesterday. We witness the Pike's Peak 
 rush; we lumber crazily along on the overland 
 stage; we stake out a homestead claim; we brand 
 steers and herd sheep; we track the grizzly to its 
 lair. Indeed, there is no important phase of this 
 wonderful life of the West that is not touched upon, 
 entertainingly and illuminatingly, by the pen of Ed- 
 win L. Sabin. The breath of the great outdoors 
 sweeps across his pages. 
 
 To Read His Vivid Stories is Like Paying an 
 Actual Visit to Mountain and Plain 
 
THE BAR B SERIES 
 
 By EDWIN L. SABIN 
 BAR B BOYS; 
 
 OR, THE YOUNG COW-PUNCHERS 
 
 A picturesque story of Western ranch life. Illustrated 
 by Charles Copeland. 
 
 RANGE AND TRAIL 
 
 The Bar B Boys in winter and on the long trail from 
 New Mexico to the home ranch. Illustrated by Clarence 
 Rowe. 
 
 CIRCLE K; 
 
 OR, FIGHTING FOR THE FLOCK 
 
 The ranchmen are here engaged in the sheep industry, 
 and the story has the same real Western flavor. Illus- 
 trated by Clarence Howe. 
 
 OLD FOUR-TOES; 
 
 OR, HUNTERS OF THE PEAKS 
 
 The two boys, Phil and Chet, Grizzly Dan and others, 
 figure in this fascinating account of hunting, trapping, 
 and Indian encounters. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 
 
 TREASURE MOUNTAIN; 
 
 OR, THE YOUNG PROSPECTORS 
 
 Tells of the locating of an old gold mine near the top 
 of a mountain peak. One of the liveliest books in the 
 series. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 
 
 SCARFACE RANCH; 
 
 OR, THE YOUNG HOMESTEADERS 
 
 Two young heroes here take up some government land 
 and engage most successfully in cattle raising on their 
 own account. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 
 
 Each Volume 8vo, cloth, 
 
 Also by MR. SABIN 
 PLUCK ON THE LONG TRAIL; 
 
 OR, BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES 
 
 A stirring narrative of packing, trailing, and camping 
 in the West. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 12mo^ cloth. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
CROWELL'S SCOUT BOOKS 
 
 By JAMES OTIS 
 BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS 
 
 Realistic adventures in guarding a great tract of tim- 
 ber during one summer. Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 
 
 BOY SCOUTS IN A LUMBER CAMP 
 
 How two patrols carried through to success a big lum- 
 bering contract Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 
 
 By PERCY K. FITZHUGH 
 ALONG THE MOHAWK TRAIL; 
 
 OR, BOY SCOUTS ON LAKE CHAMPI^LIN 
 
 The lively doings of real Boy Scouts among historic 
 scenes. Illustrated by Remington Schuyler. 
 
 FOR UNCLE SAM, BOSS; 
 
 OR, BOY SCOUTS AT PANAMA 
 
 A rousing story, telling how the boys of "Along the 
 Mohawk Trail" render important services to the United 
 States in connection with the great Canal. 4 illustrations. 
 
 IN THE PATH OF LA SALLE; 
 
 OR, BOY SCOUTS ON THE MISSISSIPPI 
 
 The interesting experiences of the main characters in 
 "For Uncle Sam, Boss," while boating down the Father of 
 Waters. Their varied adventures finally carry them as 
 far as Mexico. Illustrated by Fisk. 
 
 By EDWIN L. SABIN 
 PLUCK ON THE LONG TRAIL; 
 
 OR, BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES 
 
 A stirring narrative of packing, trailing, and camping 
 in the West. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 
 
 Each Volume, 12mo, cloth, 
 
 A fine series of wholesome, realistic, and entertaining 
 stories for boys by juvenile writers of recognized stand- 
 ing, who have a thorough knowledge of Boy Scouts and 
 of real scouting in the sections of the country in which 
 the scenes of their books are laid. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 
 
CIVIL WAR STORIES BY WARREN LEE GOSS 
 
 IN THE NAVY, (7th Thousand) Illustrated, 399 Pages, A Story 
 of naval adventures during the Civil war. 
 
 "The Marine Journal " says of it: "The author, takes as usual 
 for his fiction, a foundation of reality, and therefore the story reads 
 like a transcript of real life. There are many dramatic scenes, 
 such as the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimac, and the 
 reader follows the adventures of the two heroes with a keen interest 
 that must make the story popular especially at the present time.'* 
 
 TOM CLIFTON, A story of adventures in Grant and Sher- 
 man's armies. (13th Thousand) Illustrated. 480 pages. 12mo. 
 cloth, 
 
 "The Detroit Free Press" says of it, "The book is the very epitome 
 of what the young soldiers, who helped to save the Union, felt, 
 endured and enjoyed. It is wholesome, stimulating to patriotism 
 and manhood, noble in tone, unstained by any hint of sectionalism, 
 full of good feeling; the work of a hero who himself did what he 
 saw and relates." 
 
 JACK ALDEN: Adventures in the Virginia Campaigns. 
 1861-65. (12th Thousand) Illustrated, 404 pages. 
 11 The New York Nation* * says of it: "It is an unusually interesting 
 story. Its pictures of scenes and incidents of army life, from the 
 march of the 6th Massachusetts regiment through Baltimore to the 
 surrender at Appomattox, are among the best that we can re- 
 member to have read." 
 
 JED. A boys adventures in the army.( 28th Thousand) Illu- 
 strated, 402 pages. 12mo. Cloth, 
 
 "The Boston Beacon" among other complimentary remarks about 
 this book says: "Of all the many stories of the Civil War that 
 have been published and their name is legion it is not possible 
 to mention one which for sturdy realism, intensity of interest, and 
 range of narrative, can compare with Jed." 
 
 A LIFE OF GRANT FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. Illustrated. 
 12mo. Cloth, 
 
 "The Christian Advocate"" (Cincinnati) says of it: "One of the 
 best lives of U. S. Grant that we have seen clear, circumstantial, 
 but without undue and fulsome praise. The chapters telling of 
 the clouds of misfortune and suffering over the close of his life are 
 pathetic in the extreme." 
 
 THE BOYS LIFE OF GENERAL SHERIDAN. Illustrated 
 12mo. cloth, 
 
 The "Living Churh (Milwaukee) says of it: "The story of the 
 dashing officer in his war career and also afterwards in his 
 campaigns among the Indians, form a thrilling story of American 
 leadership. The book contains a thorough review in thrilling language 
 of the various campaigns in which Sheridan made his mark.*' 
 
 Order from your bookseller. Send for Catalogue 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY, NEW YORK 
 
THE "SILVER FOX FARM" SERIES 
 
 BY JAMES OTIS 
 
 THE WIRELESS STATION AT SILVER FOX FARM. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. 
 
 A bright, vividly written narrative of the adventures of 
 Paul Simpson and Ned Bartlett in helping the former's father 
 start a farm for raising silver foxes on Barren Island, twelve 
 miles off the Maine coast. 
 
 THE AEROPLANE AT SILVER FOX FARM. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. 
 
 An absorbing story of the building and working of an aero- 
 plane on Barren Island. 
 
 BUILDING AN AIRSHIP AT SILVER FOX FARM. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. 
 
 Encouraged by their success in aeroplane-building, the boys 
 of Silver Fox Farm go in for a full-fledged airship. 
 
 AIRSHIP CRUISING FROM SILVER FOX FARM. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. 
 
 A further account of the marvels performed by the Silver 
 Fox Farmers, including the story of the thrilling rescue of a 
 shipwrecked yachting party by means of their great air-cruiser. 
 
 BOY SCOUT BOOKS 
 
 BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS. 
 BOY SCOUTS IN A LUMBER CAMP. 
 
 12mo z illustrated. 
 
 Other Books by JAMES OTIS 
 
 DOROTHY'S SPY. 
 
 JOEY AT THE FAIR. TWO STOWAWAYS. 
 
 i2ino, illustrated. 
 
 SHORT CRUISE. 
 
 HOW TOMMY SAVED THE BARN. 
 
 OUR UNCLE THE MAJOR. 
 
 8vo, illustrated. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 
 
VC 53275 
 
 M61I80 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY