Bud announced next morning that if two of the Bradfords would like to ride that day and were willing to help Phil with the pack train, he and Joyce would go down the river by canoe, as he had a mind to examine a likely ledge of rock on the other side of the stream. He had noticed its appearance, he said, from the trail on his journey in, and thought it might contain gold-bearing quartz.

This proposition was very welcome to the trampers, and they immediately drew lots, fortune favoring Mr. Bradford and Roly. Uncle Will and David accordingly set off on foot directly after breakfast, while Bud and Joyce departed toward Klukwan, and the other three went into the woods to find the horses,—a task which proved both long and tedious. Roly, who had taken an easterly direction, came out upon the open gravel, where he found plenty of hoof-prints, but no horses. He looked carefully over the whole broad expanse and listened for the tinkle of the bell, but in vain, so he turned back into the woods toward the trail, encountering swamps and thickets which greatly impeded his progress. Mr. Bradford[340] had no better luck, returning tired and alone. Phil, with a born packer's instinct, finally discovered the animals in a swamp in the densest part of the forest, and soon afterward brought them into camp.

Mr. Bradford and Roly, it must be confessed, were of nearly as little assistance in loading as they had been in rounding up. They knew absolutely nothing of the diamond hitch, which every up-to-date packer uses, and Phil would tolerate no other.

"You just bring up the horses and packs sep'rate," said the latter, good-naturedly, "and I'll put 'em together."

So one by one the horses were led up. The blankets and pack saddle were first placed in position, and the canvas band under the breast tightened until the animal fairly grunted. Then the packs were set in place on each side of the saddle and secured by many windings of the cinch-rope, all being finally made fast by the famous hitch, tightened by the united efforts of Phil and Mr. Bradford.

"There!" exclaimed Phil when the work was done, "now they'll pass muster."

"They may buck, they may roll, they may rub agin a tree,
But their loads will stick like—"

"Like your poet-ree," Roly suggested, after a pause.

"Haw! haw!" laughed the big Missourian. "Yes, that's it. I was going to say, 'like a bad reputation,'[341] but that wouldn't rhyme. No matter how well I get started, I'm always floored by the second line."

The pack train was now put in motion, Phil directing his companions to ride in the rear and keep the animals from lagging. Their way lay through a wild, mountainous region. There were ascents and descents so steep that the riders were forced to dismount and lead their horses with the utmost caution, but wherever the nature of the trail permitted, the animals were urged to a gallop.

Roly and his father found it no easy matter to do rear-guard duty. There was a speckled horse called "Pinto" who made it his especial care to keep them busy. He had started in the van of the train, but, being a confirmed shirk, had gradually fallen back until there remained only a meek little white horse between him and the hindmost riders. Having gained this position, he dropped into a walk at every opportunity and was soon far behind the other horses, all efforts on the part of the amateur drivers to reach him with a switch or strap being futile. No sooner did he see them spurring up than he would jump ahead just out of reach, while the punishment intended for him—the clever rogue—fell upon the poor little white horse, whom he would not allow to pass him on the narrow trail. At the first wide clearing, however, Pinto got what he deserved, and, being thoroughly[342] convinced that his new masters would have no trifling, he was as well behaved for the rest of the day as could be desired.

Now let us follow the fortunes of Uncle Will and David.

While the horses were being rounded up and loaded, the two pedestrians had obtained a good lead, walking as rapidly as the nature of the ground permitted, and pausing only to drink at a sparkling brook or to admire for a moment some scene of unusual beauty. They had covered several miles, and were ascending a wooded slope on the other side of which lay a deep and narrow ravine, when David broke a shoe-string and stopped to tie the ends, his uncle continuing over the crest and into the hollow beyond.

A moment later, hurrying to catch up, David also mounted the slope, and had almost reached the top when a gleam of light caught his eye, coming from the opposite edge of the ravine and a little to the right. Looking there to discover the cause, he halted abruptly. The sun had glinted on the barrel of a rifle in the hands of a man who, at that moment crouched beside a large rock, was facing away from him and motioning to some one in the woods beyond. The stranger wore fringed buckskin breeches and a red flannel shirt, and his broad-brimmed felt hat lay on the ground beside him.

[343]

There was something in the appearance and stealthy movements of this man which at once aroused David's suspicions. Instinctively he threw himself flat on the ground behind a young spruce which grew on the top of the bank, at the same time unslinging his rifle and laying it beside him. As he did so, he watched the gaudy stranger intently through the branches of the tree and tried to recall............