There was very little time to be lost. When in the morning they had eaten breakfast and had packed Jenny (who did not seem to object to a change from doing nothing all day) with a robe and a blanket and the picks and spades and cooking stuff and some provisions, and had placed a note for —"Gone to get rich. Will see you later"—and sallied down the , Terry with his shot-gun on his shoulder and George with his wooden-hammer revolver at his belt, and each with a gold-pan on his back, the procession for the new diggin's already had started.  
It looked quite like business, too—a long file composed of men riding horses or , and of men driving pack animals, and of other men afoot and carrying their packs, pressing south, out of the gulch, evidently following the lead of the Tarryall man.
 
"Once we locate our pound of gold a day, these other diggin's can go hang, can't they?" George, as they hurried.
 
"I should say!" Terry. "All we'll do will be to come back and get Harry and sell to that Pine Knot Ike crowd, and then we'll light out again. Glad we didn't say where we're bound for. When we sell we can pretend to Ike that we're disgusted."
 
"Sure. Let's push up in front."
 
They were fast-footed and Jenny was long-legged, and they passed one after another of their rivals, until they were well toward the van. The wagon-man guide could be seen in the advance, guiding up a steep divide between the North Clear and the South Clear Creek. The route appeared to be by an old Indian trail; and the divide itself grew into a mountain. Higher and higher led the trail—a tough climb that made the procession straggle.
 
It was a great relief when the trail conducted down again, on the other side, to South Clear Creek, and crossed, and turned up, through a beautiful country, to a couple of lonely lakes. But presently it began to climb over another mountain!
 
Terry limped, George limped, everyone afoot limped, no stop had been made for lunch. Everybody was afraid that somebody else would get to the pound-a-day first.
 
"Wonder how far we've come now?" panted George.
 
"You're a tenderfoot. You're petered out already!" accused Terry. "We aren't half there."
 
"I don't limp any worse than you do," retorted George.
 
"Keep a-going."
 
"Keep a-going."
 
On top of this mountain they all in the advance ran into a snowstorm, while the people lower down, behind, evidently were warm and comfortable. Then night fell—a real January night—and camp had to be made.
 
However, George was game. He proved to be a good campaigner, for a tenderfoot; and as an old-timer Terry of course needs must pretend that this kind of camping was nothing at all. So they pitched in together and cooked supper like the rest of the crowd, and went early to bed on top of the blanket and the buffalo robe.
 
"Jenny won't thank us any for bringing her from summer right into winter, I reckon," murmured George, as he and Terry spooned against each other, to keep warm.
 
"No," replied Terry. "This 'pound of gold a day' song doesn't mean anything to her yet. But it'll be warm down in Tarryall, they say—just like back at the Gregory diggin's."
 
"We ought to get there tomorrow."
 
"Depends on how many more of these mountains there are," reasoned Terry. "Without that Tarryall man to guide us we'd all be lost, sure."
 
On and on and on, into the south and southwest, continued the march: down and up, across more , across more mountains, into and out again; and when night arrived, no South Park and Tarryall diggin's were yet in sight. Nothing was in sight but thick timber and wild rocky extending to snow-line. Near or distant, before, behind, on either side, the landscape was the same.
 
"A few miles, boys, and we'll be there," promised the Tarryall man. "' tomorrow noon, say. Then for your pound a day."
 
"Seems as though that pound of gold a day was always ten or forty miles ahead of a fellow," complained Terry. "First it was at Cherry Creek, then it was at Gregory Gulch, and now it's somewhere yonder. He said fifty miles, and I bet we've a hundred and still we haven't struck it yet. Guess Harry and I'll have to sell the Golden Prize so as to get us some boots. Look at mine!"
 
"We'll make moccasins or trade for some with the Injuns," consoled George. "When you're getting your pound a day you won't care."
 
The straggling procession was well worn out by two days of long, hard marching afoot and ahorse, and most of the animals were foot-sore. But tonight's camp was more cheerful, because the new diggin's lay close before, over the next divide. Yes, the Tarryall man had promised truly, for about eleven o'clock in the morning the head of the procession shouted and cheered and waved.
 
"South Park, boys—and Tarryall's in sight!"
 
"Hooray!" cheered everybody, as the news spread back from mouth to mouth and ear to ear.
 
"Gwan, Jenny!" bade George, clapping her on the gaunt flank; and driving her, he and Terry limped faster.
 
Because they were boys they had been well treated, on the way over, but now when new diggin's were so close at hand they might expect no favors. Every party must for itself.
 
"Jenny! Gwan! Do you want to be left? Gwan! Hep with you!"
 
"Hep with you!" echoed Terry.
 
Jenny did her best; before and behind, the other were doing their very best—crashing recklessly through the brush and timber and sliding and tumbling over the rocks. The head of the procession had disappeared over another little rise—perhaps was already in and at work locating the best pound-a-day claims!
 
"Jenny! Jenny! Yip! Gwan!" urged George and Terry. And with their rivals treading on their heels they, too, mounted the little rise, gained the top, and now in the clear could gaze anxiously beyond.
 
"I see it! I see the camp!" exclaimed Terry.
 
"So do I. But, whew! this is a big place, isn't it?" puffed George.
 
South Park was indeed large, and also beautiful; being an immense flat, miles wide and miles long, and green and dotted with timber patches and bare round hills—yes, and with buffalo and deer, too!—and well watered by streams and the snows of high encircling mountains. The sight might well make one , but another sight should be attended to first: that of the leading gold-seekers spurring their horses and mules diagonally across in a race for a of tents set amidst and pines against the west edge.
 
And pellmell, hobbling and shouting and straining, all the company strung out after.
 
"If we won't be first, we won't be last, just the same," panted Terry.
 
The Tarryall diggin's resolved into three or four tents and several huts along a creek where it formed a broad gulch as it issued from the mountains. The gulch was being worked with rockers and pans, and claim stakes seemed to be planted clear through, from side to side. In fact, when, breathless, their eyes roving eagerly, Terry and George arrived, business-bent, it looked as though the whole ground had already been occupied by the discoverers!
 
"Tarryall! This isn't Tarryall—it ought to be named Grab-all!" was denouncing one of the leaders who had won the race from the last . "What do you think, boys?" he addressed, as the other Gregory Gulch in-comers paused and jostled uncertainly. "There are twelve of these Tarryall fellows, and they've each of 'em staked off two thousand feet! That means twenty-four thousand feet of claims—nearly five miles! Is that fair? No! By miners' law a claim's one hundred feet."
 
"You're right. One hundred feet."
 
"Tear up those stakes."
 
"No thousand or two thousand foot business goes with us!"
 
"They've invited us in here. They've got to give us a show."
 
"Grab-all! Grab-all! That's the name for this camp: Grab-all!"
 
The of responses was instant. The Gregory Gulch men surged angrily. The Tarryall men—twelve, now that the guide from Gregory Gulch had joined them—stood in a compact little group. They were a sturdy, rough-and-ready , well armed and able to take care of themselves. Their spokesman, a burly, shaggy-bearded individual, stepped out a pace, and tapped the of his revolver significantly.
 
"That's tall talk, gentlemen," he said, "but it's wasted on us. This is our camp. We've discovered this ground. We came in here first, where no white men ever before and where the Injuns are liable to raise our hair any moment; we've our own regulations, and I reckon we're going to hold what we've got. No white men, or Injuns either, can tell us what we're to do. If you want peace ............