Another day and crossing a ridge so sharp that they were barely able to pull the horses over it, they came to a valley set close around by high mountains, a valley about three miles long and a mile wide, one-third of its surface covered by a lake, usually silver in color, but varying with the sky above it. Another third of the valley was open and heavy in grass, the remainder being in forest with little undergrowth.

"Here," said Boyd, "we'll find the four things we need, wood, water, grass and shelter, and since it's practically impossible for the original band of Sioux to trail us into this cleft, here we will stay until such time as we wish to resume our great hunt. What say you?"

"Seems to me, Jim, that we're coming home. This valley has been waiting for us a great many years, but the true tenants have arrived at last."

"That's the right spirit. Hark to Selim, now! He, too, approves."

The great horse, probably moved by the sight of grass and water, raised his head and neighed.

"If we had felt any doubts the horses would have settled it for us," said Will. "I understand their language and they say in the most correct English that here we are to bide and rest, as long as we wish. The presence of the lake indicates a running stream, an entrance and exit, so to speak. I think, Jim, it's about the most beautiful valley I ever saw."

They descended the last slope, and came to the creek that drained the lake, a fine, clear, cold current, flowing swiftly over a rocky bottom. After letting the horses drink they forded it, and rode on into the valley. Will noticed something white on the opposite slope, and examining it through his glasses saw that it was a foaming cascade.

"It's the stream that feeds the lake," he said. "It rushes down from the higher mountains, and here we have a beautiful waterfall. Nature has neglected nothing in preparing our happy valley, providing not only comfort and security but scenic beauty as well."

The hunter looked a moment or two at the waterfall, and the tremendous mountains about them with a careful eye.

"What is it, Jim?" asked Will.

"I'm looking for tracks."

"What tracks? You said we wouldn't find any Sioux in here."

"Not the footprints of the Sioux."

"It's not in the range of the Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines. Surely you don't expect them."

"I don't expect Crows, Blackfeet or Assiniboines."

"Then what do you expect?"

"Wild animals."

"Why bother about wild animals? Armed as we are we've nothing to fear from them."

"Nothing to fear, but a lot to hope. I think we're likely to stay here quite a spell, and we'll need 'em in our business. Remember that for the present, Will, we're wild men, and we'll have to live as wild men have lived since the world began. We want their meat and their skins."

"The meat I understand, because I'd like to bite into a juicy piece of it now, but we're not fur hunters."

"No, but we need the skins of big animals, and we need 'em right away. This weather can't last forever. We're bound to have a storm sometime soon. We must first make a wickiup. It's quite simple. The Sioux always do it. A Sioux warrior never sleeps in the open if he can help it, and as they've lived this sort of life for more hundreds of years than anybody knows they ought to know something about it."

"But I don't see that cloud you told me several days ago to watch for."

"It will come. It's bound to come. Now here's the lake ahead of us. Isn't it a beauty? I told you we'd find a lot of these fine little lakes all along the slopes of the ridges, but this seems to be the gem of them all. See how the water breaks into waves and looks like melted silver! And the banks sloping and firm, covered with thick green turf, run right down to the water's edge, like a gentleman's park."

"It's all that you claim for it," said Will, making a wide, sweeping gesture, "and, bright new lake, I christen thee Lake Boyd!"

"The lake accepts the name," said the hunter with a pleased smile, and then he added, also making a wide, sweeping gesture:

"Green and sheltered valley, I christen thee Clarke Valley."

"I, too, accept the compliment," said Will.

"The far side of the valley is much the steeper," said the hunter, "and I think it would be a good idea for us to build the wickiup over there. It would be sheltered thoroughly on one side at least by the lofty cliffs."

"Going back a moment to the search you were making a little while ago, have you noticed the footprints of any wild animals?"

"Aye, Will, my lad, so I have. I've seen tracks of elk, buffalo and bear, and of many smaller beasts."

"Then, that burden off your mind, we might as well locate the site of our house."

"Correct. I think I see it now in an open space under the shelter of the cliff."

They had ridden across the valley, and both marked a slight elevation under the shadow of the cliff, a glen forty or fifty yards across, protected by thick forest both to east and west, and by thin forest on the south, from which point they were approaching.

"It's the building site that's been reserved for us five hundred years, maybe," said the hunter. "The mountain and the trees will shelter us from most of the big winds, and if any of the trees should blow down their falling bodies would not reach us here in the center of the open space. There is grass everywhere for the horses, and water, both lake and running, for all of us."

They unsaddled the riding horses, took the packs off the others and turned them loose. All four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the grass.

"They've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried heavy burdens," said Boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again. Now, Will, you'll make a great hunter some day, but suppose, for the present, you guard the packs while I look for an elk and maybe a bear. Two of them would furnish more meat than we could use in a long time, but we need their skins."

"I'm content to wait," said Will, who was saddle-tired.

He sat down on the thick, soft grass by the side of the packs, and his physical system, keyed up so long, suffered a collapse, complete but not unpleasant. Every nerve relaxed and he sank back against his pack, content to be idle as long as Boyd was away. But while his body was weak then, his mind was content. Clarke Valley, which had been named after him, was surely wonderful. It was green and fresh everywhere and Boyd Lake was molten silver. Not far away the cataract showed white against the mountainside, and its roar came in a pleasant murmur to his ears.

He heard a distant shot, but it did not disturb him. He knew it was Boyd, shooting something, probably the elk he wished. After a while he heard another report, and he put that down as the bear. His surmise was correct in both instances.

Boyd, with his help, skinned both the bear and the elk, and they hung great quantities of the flesh of both in the trees to dry. Boyd carefully scraped the skins with his hunting knife, and they, too, were hung out to dry. While they were hanging there Will also shot a bear, and his hairy covering was added to the others.

A few days later Boyd built the wickiup, called by the Sioux tipiowinja. Taking one of the sharp axes he quickly cut a number of slender, green poles, the larger ends of which he sharpened well and thrust deep into the ground, until he had made with them a complete circle. The smaller ends were bent toward a common center and fastened tightly with withes of skin. The space between was thatched with brush, and the whole was covered with the skins of elk and bear, which Boyd stitched together closely and firmly. Then they cut out a small doorway, which they could enter by stooping. The floor was of poles, made smooth and soft with a covering of dead leaves.

It was rude and primitive, but Will saw at once that in need it would protect both their stores and themselves.

"I learned that from the Sioux long ago," said Boyd, not without some admiration of his handiwork. "It's close and hot, and after we've put the stores in we'll have to tuck ourselves away in the last space left. But it will feel mighty good in a storm."

The second night after the wickiup was finished his words came true. A great storm gathered in the southwest, the first that Will had seen in the high mountains, and it was a tremendous and terrifying manifestation of nature.

The mountains fairly shook with the explosions of thunder, and the play of lightning was dazzling on the ridges. When thunder and lightning subsided somewhat, the hunter and the lad crept into the wickiup and listened to the roaring of the rain as it came. Will, curled against the side upon his pack, heard the fierce wind moaning as if the gods themselves were in pain, and the rain beating in gust after gust. The stout poles bent a little before both wind and rain, but their elasticity merely added to their power of resistance, as the wickiup, so simple in its structure and yet so serviceable, stood fast, and Boyd had put on its skin covering so well that not a single drop of water entered.

In civilization he might have found the wickiup too close to be supportable, but in that raging wilderness, raging then at least, it was snug beyond compare. He had a thought or two for the horses, but he knew they would find shelter in the forest. Boyd, who was curled on the other side of the wickiup, was already asleep, but the lad's sense of safety and shelter was so great that he lay awake, and listened to the shrieking of the elements, separated from him only by poles and a bearskin. The power of contrast was so great that he had never felt more comfortable in his life, and after listening awhile he, too, fell asleep, sleeping soundly until day, when the storm had passed, leaving the air crisper and fresher, and the earth washed afresh and clean.

They found the horses already grazing, and their bear and elk steaks, which they had fastened securely, safe on the boughs. The valley itself, so keen and penetrating was the odor of balsam and pine, seemed redolent with perfume, and the lake itself had taken on a new and brighter tint of silver.

"Boyd Lake and Clarke Valley are putting on their best in our honor," said Will.

Then they ate a huge breakfast, mostly of elk and bear meat, and afterward considered the situation. Will had the natural impatience of youth, but Boyd was all for staying on a couple of weeks at least. They might not find another such secure place, one that furnished its own food, and nothing would be lost while much could be gained by waiting. It was easy enough to persuade the lad, who was, on the whole, rather glad to be convinced, and then they turned their thoughts toward the improvement of a camp which had some of the elements of permanency.

"We could, of course, build a good, strong cabin," said Boyd, "and with our stout axes it would not take long to do it, but I don't think we'll need the protection of logs. The wickiup ought to serve. We may not have another storm while we're here, but showers are pretty sure to come."

To provide against contingencies they strengthened the wickiup with another layer of poles, and Boyd spread over the leaves on the floor the skin of a huge grizzly bear that he killed on one of the slopes. They felt now that it was secure against any blizzard that might sweep through the mountains, and that within its shelter they could keep warm and dry in the very worst of times. But they did not sleep in it again for a full week, no rain falling at night during that period. Instead they spread their blankets under the trees.

"It's odd, and I don't pretend to account for it," said Boyd, "but it's only progressive white men who understand the value of fresh air. As I told you, the Sioux never sleep outside, when they can help it. Neither do the other Indians. In the day they live outdoors, but at night they like to seal themselves up in a box, so to speak."

"Rushing from extreme to extreme."

"Maybe, but as for me, I want no better bed than the soft boughs of balsam, with blankets and the unlimited blue sky, provided, of course, that it isn't raining or hailing or sleeting or snowing. It's powerful healthy. Since we've come into Clarke Valley I can see, Will, that you've grown about two inches in height and that you're at least six inches bigger around the chest."

"You're a pretty big exaggerator!" laughed Will, "but I certainly do feel bigger and stronger than I was when I arrived here. If the Sioux will only let us bide in peace awhile I think I may keep on growing. Tell me more about the Sioux, Jim. They're a tremendous league, and I suppose you know as much about 'em as any white man in this part of the world."

"I've been in their country long enough to learn a lot, and there's a lot to learn. The Sioux are to the West what the Iroquois were to the East, that is, so far as their power is concerned, though their range of territory is far larger than that of the Iroquois ever was. They roam over an extent of mountain and plain, hundreds and hundreds of miles either way. I've heard that they can put thirty thousand warriors in the field, though I don't know whether it's true or not, but I do know that they are more numerous and warlike than any other Indian nation in the West, and that they have leaders who are really big men, men who think as well as fight. There's Mahpeyalute, whom you saw and whom we call Red Cloud, and Tatanka Yotanka, whom we call Sitting Bull, and Gray Wolf and War Eagle and lots of others.

"Besides, the Sioux, or, in their own language, the Dakotas, are a great nation made up of smaller nations, all of the same warlike stock. There is the tribe of the Mendewakaton, which means Spirit Lake Village, then you have the Wahpekute or Leaf Shooters; the Wahpeton, the Leaf Village; the Sisseton, the Swamp Village; the Yankton, the End Village, the Yanktonnais, the Upper End Village, and the Teton, the Prairie Village. The Teton tribe, which is very formidable, is subdivided into the Ogalala, the Brule, and the Hunkpapa. Red Cloud, as I've told you before, is an Ogalala. And that's a long enough lesson for you for one day. Now, like a good boy, go catch some fish."

Will had discovered very early that Lake Boyd, which was quite deep, contained fine lake trout and also other fish almost as good to the taste. As their packs included strong fishing tackle it was not difficult to obtain all the fish they wanted, and the task generally fell to the lad. Now, at Boyd's suggestion, he fulfilled it once more with the usual success.

Game of all kinds, large and small, was abundant, the valley being fairly overrun with it. Boyd said that it had come in through the narrow passes, and its numbers indicated that no hunters had been there in a long time. Will even found a small herd of about a dozen buffaloes grazing at the south end of the valley, but the next day they disappeared, evidently alarmed by the invasion of human beings. But the deer continued numerous and there were both bears and mountain lions along the slopes.

Will, who had a certain turn for solitude, being of a thoughtful, serious nature, ceased to find the waiting in the valley irksome. He began to think less of the treasure for which he had come so far and through such dangers. They had found a happy valley, and he did not care how long they stayed in it, all nature being so propitious. He had never before breathed an air so fine, and always it was redolent with the odor of pine and balsam. He began to feel that Boyd had not exaggerated much when he talked about his increase in height and chest expansion.

Both he and the hunter bathed every morning in Lake Boyd. At first Will could not endure its cold water more than five minutes, but at the end of ten days he was able to splash and swim in it as long as he liked.

Their days were not all passed in idleness, as they replenished their stores by jerking the meat of both bear and deer. At the end of two weeks the hunter began to talk of departure, and he and Will walked toward the western end of the valley, where the creek issued in a narrow pass, the only road by which they could leave.

"It's likely to be a mighty rough path," said Boyd, "but our horses are still mountain climbers and we'll be sure to make it."

They went a little nearer and listened to the music of the singing waters, as the creek rushed through the cleft. It was a fine, soothing note, but presently another rose above it, clear and melodious.

It was a whistle, and it had such a penetrating quality that Will, at first, thought it was a bird. Then he knew it sprang from the throat of a man, hidden by the bushes and coming up the pass. Nearer and nearer it came and mellower and mellower it grew. He had never before heard anyone whistle so beautifully. It was like a song, but it was evident that someone was entering their happy valley, and in that wilderness who could come but an enemy? Nearer and nearer the whistler drew and the musical note of the whistling and its echoes filled all the pass.

"Wouldn't it be better for us to draw back a little where we can remain hidden among the brakes?" said Will.

"Yes, do it," replied the hunter, "just for precaution against any possible mistake, but I don't think we really need to do so. In all the world there's not another such whistler! It's bound to be Giant Tom, Giant Tom his very self, and none other!"

"Giant Tom! Giant Tom! Whom do you mean?" exclaimed Will.

"Just wait a minute and you'll see."

The whistler was now very near, though hidden from sight by the bushes, and he was trilling forth old airs of home that made the pulses in the lad's throat beat hard.

"It's Giant Tom. There's no other such in the world," repeated Boyd more to himself than to Will. "In another minute you'll see him. You can hear him now brushing past the bushes. Ah, there he is! God bless him!"

The figure of an extraordinary man now came into view. He was not more than five feet tall, nor was he particularly broad for his height. He was just the opposite of a giant in size, but there was something about him that suggested the power of a giant. He had a wonderfully quick and light step, and it was Will's first impression that he was made of steel, instead of flesh and blood. His face, shaven smoothly, told little of his age. He was dressed in weather-beaten brown, rifle on shoulder, and two mules, loaded with the usual packs and miner's tools, followed him in single file and with sure step.

Will's heart warmed at once to the little man who continued to whistle forth a volume of clear song, and whose face was perhaps the happiest he had ever seen. Boyd stepped suddenly from the shielding brushwood and extended his hand.

"Tom Bent," he said, "put 'er there!"

"Thar she is," said Giant Tom, placing his palm squarely in Boyd's.

"My young friend, Mr. William Clarke," said the hunter, nodding at the lad, "and this is Mr. Thomas Bent, better known to me and others as Giant Tom."

"Glad to meet you, William," said the little man, and ever afterward he called the boy William. "Anybody that I find with Jim, here, has got on 'im the stamp an' seal o' high approval. I don't ask your name, whar you come from or why you're here, or whar you're goin', but I take you fur a frien' o' Jim's, an' so just 'bout all right. Now put 'er thar."

He grinned a wide grin and extended a wide palm, into which Will put his to have it enclosed at once in a grasp so mighty that he was convinced his first impression about the man being made of steel was correct. He uttered an exclamation and Giant Tom dropped his hand at once.

"I never do that to a feller more than once," he said, "an' it's always the first time I meet him. Even then I don't do it 'less I'm sure he's all right, an' I'm goin' to like 'im. It's jest my way o' puttin' a stamp on 'im to show that he's passed Tom Bent's ordeal, an' is good fur the best the world has to offer. Now, William, you're one o' us."

He smiled so engagingly that Will was compelled to laugh, and he felt, too, that he had a new and powerful friend.

"That's right, laugh," said Giant Tom. "You take it the way a feller orter, an' you an' me are goin' to be mighty good pards. An' that bein' settled I want to know from you, Jim Boyd, what are you doin' in my valley."

"Your valley, Giant! Why, you never saw it before," said the hunter.

"What's that got to do with it? I wuz comin' here an' any place that I'm goin' to come to out here in the wilderness is mine, o' course."

"Coming here, I suppose, to hunt for gold! And you've been hunting for it for fifteen years, you've trod along thousands and thousands of miles and never found a speck of it yet."

The little man laughed joyously.

"That's true," he said. "I've worked years an' years an' I never yet had a particle o' luck. But a dry spell, no matter how long, is always broke some time or other by a rain, an' when my luck does come, it's goin' to bust all over my face. Gold will just rain on me. I'll stand in it knee-deep an' then shoulder deep, an' then right up to my mouth."

"You haven't changed a bit," said Boyd, grinning also. "You're the same Giant Tom, a real giant in strength and courage, that I've met off and on through the years. It's been a long time since I first saw you."

"It was in Californy in '49. I was only fourteen then, but I went out with my uncle in the first rush. Seventeen years I've hunted the yellow stuff, in the streams, in the mountains, all up an' down the coast, in the British territories, an' way back in the Rockies, but I've yet to see its color. Uncle Pete found some, and when he died he left what money he had to me. 'Jest you take it an' keep on huntin', Tom, my boy,' he said. 'Now an' then I think I've seen traces o' impatience in you. When you'd been lookin' only six or seven years, an' found nothin', I heard you speak in a tone of disapp'intment, once. Don't you do it ag'in. That ain't the way things are won. It takes sperrit an' patience to be victor'us. Hang on to the job you've set fur yourse'f, an' thirty or forty years from now you'll be shore to reap a full reward, though it might come sooner.' An' here I am, fresh, strong, only a little past thirty, and I kin afford to hunt an' wait for my pay 'bout thirty years more. I've never forgot what Uncle Pete told me just afore he died. A mighty smart man was Uncle Pete, an' he had my future in mind. Don't you think so, young William?"

"Of course," replied Will, looking at him in wonder and admiration. "I don't think a man of your cheerful and patient temperament could possibly fail."

"And maybe his reward will come much sooner than he thinks," said the hunter, glancing at the lad.

Will understood what Boyd meant, and he was much taken with the idea. The Little Giant seemed to be sent by Providence, but he said nothing, waiting until such time as the hunter thought fit to broach the subject.

"How long have you been here?" asked the Little Giant, looking at the valley with approving eyes.

"Quite a little while," replied Boyd. "It belonged to us two until a few minutes ago, but now it belongs to us three. We've been needing a third man badly, and while I didn't know it, you must have been in my mind all the time."

"An' what do you happen to need me fur, Jim Boyd?"

"We'll let that wait awhile, at least, until we introduce you to our home."

"All right. Patience is my strong suit. Do you mean to say you've got a home here?"

"Certainly."

"Then I'll be your guest until you take me into the pardnership you're talkin' 'bout. Do you know that you two are the first faces o' human bein's that I've seen in two months, an' it gives me a kind o' pleasure to look at you, Jim Boyd, an' young William."

"Come on then to our camp."

He whistled to his two mules, strong, patient animals, and then he whistled on his own account the gayest and most extraordinary variation that Will had ever heard, a medley of airs, clear, pure and birdlike, that would have made the feet of any young man dance to the music. It expressed cheerfulness, hope and the sheer joy of living.

"You could go on the stage and earn fine pay with that whistling of yours," said Will, when he finished.

"Others have told me so, too," said the Little Giant, "but I'll never do it. Do you think I'd forget what Uncle Pete said to me on his dyin' bed, an' get out o' patience? What's a matter o' twenty or thirty years? I'll keep on lookin' an' in the end I'll find plenty o' gold as a matter o' course. Then I won't have to whistle fur a livin'. I'll hire others to whistle fur me."

"He's got another accomplishment, Will, one that he never brags about," said the hunter.

"What is it?"

"I told you once that I was as good a rifle shot as there was in the West, over a range of a million and a half square miles of mountain and plain, but I forgot, for a moment, about one exception. That exception is Giant Tom, here. He has one of the fine repeating rifles like ours, and whether with that or a muzzle loader he's quicker and surer than any other."

The face of Giant Tom turned red through his tan.

"See here, Jim Boyd, I'm a modest man, I'm no boaster, don't be telling wild tales about me to young William. I don't know him yet so well as I do you, an' I vally his good opinion."

"What I say is true every word of it. If his bullet would only carry that far he'd pick off a deer at five miles every time, and you needn't deny it, Giant Tom."

"Well, mebbe thar is some truth in what you say. When the Lord sawed me off a foot, so I'd hev to look up in the faces o' men whenever I talked to 'em, He looked at me an' He felt sorry fur the little feller He'd created. I'll have to make it up to him somehow, He said to Hisself, an' to he'p me along He give me muscles o' steel, not your cast steel, but your wrought steel that never breaks, then He put a mockin' bird in my throat, an' give me eyes like an eagle's an' nerves o' the steadiest. Last, He give me patience, the knowin' how to wait years an' years fur what I want, an' lookin' back to it now I think He more than made up fur the foot He sawed off. Leastways I ain't seen yet the man I want to change with, not even with you, Jim Boyd, tall as you think you are, nor with you, young William, for all your red cheeks an' your youth an' your heart full o' hope, though it ain't any fuller than mine."

"Long but mighty interesting," said Boyd. "Now, you can see our wickiup, over there in the open. We use it only when it rains. We'll help you take the packs off your mules and they can go grazing for themselves with our horses. You are not saying much about it, but I imagine that you and the mules, too, are pretty nearly worn out."

"Them's good mules, mighty good mules, but them an' me, I don't mind tellin' it to you, Jim Boyd, won't fight ag'inst restin' an' eatin' awhile."

"I'll light the fire and warm food for you," said Will. "It's a pleasure for me to do it. Sit down on the log and before you know it I'll have ready for you the finest lake trout into which you ever put your teeth."

"Young William, I accept your invite."

Will quickly had his fire going, and he served not only trout, but bear steaks and hot coffee to the Little Giant, who ate with a tremendous appetite.

"I've got provisions of my own in my packs," he said, "but sometimes the other feller's feed tastes a heap better than your own, an' this that you're offerin' me is, I take it, the cream o' the mountains, young William. A couple more o' them trout, if you don't mind, four or five more pounds o' that bear meat, an' a gallon o' coffee, if you've got it to spare. With them I think I kin make out. How are my mules gettin' on, Jim?"

"First rate. They've already introduced themselves to the horses, which have given their names, pedigrees and the stories of their lives. The mules also have furnished their histories, and, everybody being satisfied with everybody else's social station and past, they're now grazing together in perfect friendship, all six of 'em, just beyond that belt of woodland. And that being the case, I'll now give you the history of Will and myself, and I'll tell you about the biggest thing that we expect from the future."

"Go ahead," said the Little Giant, settling himself into a comfortable position.



CHAPTER IV

THE FLIGHT

Boyd had no mean powers as a narrator. He did not speak at first of their own immediate search, but alluded to the great belief that gold was scattered all through the West, although it seldom had a trace or trail leading to it. Then he spoke of Clarke's father, and what he had discovered, returning soon afterward to the civil war, in which he had fallen.

The Little Giant's eyes brightened with the flame of pursuit as the hunter talked. He who had sought gold for so many years without finding a particle of it was seeing it now, in pockets, and in almost solid ledges, beyond anything he had ever dreamed. But when Boyd told of the officer's death on the battlefield he sighed deeply and his face clouded.

"That's always the way," he said. "Jest when you've got it, it slips through your fingers, though I will say to you, young William, that it's not the lost gold only I'm mournin' 'bout. I'm sorry, too, for the death of your brave father."

"But, knowing the uncertainties of war, he took thought for the future," said Boyd. "He drew a map showing where his great mine is, and it's now in the possession of his son, Will, who sits before you."

The shadow left the face of the Little Giant, and his eyes glistened as Will produced the precious map, spreading it before him. After examining it carefully, he said:

"Ef you fight off many thousand Sioux, run through fifty or a hundred mountain blizzards, starve a dozen times, freeze twenty times an' stick to it three or four years you'll git that thar gold."

Then the Little Giant sighed, and his face clouded again—it had perhaps been years since his face had clouded twice in one day.

"You fellers are in great luck. I wish you well."

"We wish ourselves well," said Boyd, watching him closely.

A sudden thought seemed to occur to the Little Giant and his face brightened greatly.

"Do you two fellers want a hired man?" he asked.

"What kind of a hired man?" said Boyd.

"A likely feller, not very tall, but strong an' with a willin' heart, handy with spade an' shovel, understandin' hosses an' mules, an' able to whistle fur you gay an' lively tunes in the evenin', when you're all tired out from the day's work in the richest mine in the world."

"No, we don't want any hired man."

"Not even the kind I'm tellin' you 'bout?"

"Not even that, nor any other."

"An' both o' you hev got your minds plum' made up 'bout it?"

"Plumb made up."

The Little Giant's face fell for the third time in one day, an absolute record for him.

"I reckon thar ain't no more to say," he said.

Boyd was still watching him closely, but now his look was one of sympathy.

"We don't want any hired man," he said. "We've no use for hired men, but we do want something."

"What's that, Jim Boyd?"

"We want a partner."

"Why, each of you has got one. You hev young William and young William hez you."

"Well, young William and me have talked about this some, not much, but we came straight to the point. For such a big hunt as ours, through dangers piled on dangers, we need a third man, one that's got a strong heart and a cheerful soul, one that can shoot straighter than anybody else in the world, one whose picture, if I could take it, would be the exact picture of you, Tom Bent."

"But I ain't done nothin' to come in as a pardner."

"Neither did I, but Will took me in as a guide, hunter and fighting man. Don't you understand, Giant, that to get the Clarke gold we'll have to pay the price? We'll have to fight and fight, and we'll have to risk our lives a thousand times apiece. Why, in a case like this, you're worth a cool hundred thousand dollars."

"Then I come in fur a tenth—ef we git it."

"You come in for the same share as the rest, share and share alike, but I will say this to you, Little Giant, that we expect you to do the most tremendous fighting the world has ever seen, we expect you to wipe out whole bands of Sioux and Blackfeet by yourself while Will and me stand by and rest, and, after it's all over, we expect you to sit down and whistle an hour or two, until you soothe us to sleep."

"Then, on them conditions I come in as a full pardner," said Giant Tom, and he grinned with pleasure, the most amazing grin that Will had ever seen. It spread slowly across his face, until the great crack seemed to reach almost to each ear, revealing a splendid set of powerful white teeth, without a flaw. Above the chasm two large blue eyes glistened and glowed with delight. It was all so infectious, so contagious that both Will and Boyd grinned in return. They were not only securing for a perilous quest a man who was beyond compare, but they were also giving the most exquisite mental pleasure to a likable human being.

"It shorely does look," said the Little Giant, "ez ef my luck wuz goin' to hev a turn. At any rate, I'll be with you boys, in the best company I've had fur years."

"You and the mules rest a day," said Boyd, "and then we'll be off. We'll keep to the mountains for a while, and then we'll curve back to the plains, where we'll take up the line laid down on the map, and where the going is easier. Maybe we can dodge the Sioux."

The Little Giant made his bed under one of the trees, and he slept very soundly that night, eating prodigiously in the morning. The three were discussing the advisability of leaving at once or of waiting until the dusk for departure, when Will, happening to look toward the east, saw what he took at first to be a tiny cloud in the clear blue sky. He carried his glasses over his shoulders, and he raised them at once. The hunter and the Little Giant had noticed his act.

"What is it, Will?" asked Boyd anxiously.

"Smoke! A big puff of it!"

"And it came from the top of that mountain to the east of the valley."

"It rose straight and fast, as if it had been sent up by some human agency."

"And so it was. It's a signal!"

"Indians!"

"Yes, Will."

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'Attention, watch!' They've got a code almost as complete as that of our armies when they use the signal flags. Look at that other crest off to the north. Maybe an answer will come from it."

"There is an answer. I can see it rising now from the very place you indicate, Jim. What does the answer signify?"

"I can see it now with the naked eye. It merely says to the first, 'I've seen you, I'm waiting. Go ahead.' Look back to the other crest."

"Two smokes are now going up there."

"They say 'Come.' It's two bands wanting to meet. Now, the other place."

"Three smokes there."

"Three means, 'We come.'"

"Now back to the other."

"Four smokes."

"Which says in good, plain English, 'We are following the enemy.' That settles it. They've found out, some way or other, that we're here, and the two bands mean to meet and capture or destroy us. They never suspected that we could read their writing against the sky. We don't wait until tonight. We leave as soon as we can get our packs on our horses and mules."

"I'd like to make a suggestion first," said the Little Giant with some diffidence.

"What is it?" asked Boyd.

"Suppose we stay an' have a crack at 'em before we go, jest kinder to temper their zeal a little. I'd like to show young William that I kin really shoot, an' sorter live up to the braggin' you've been doin'."

"No, you ferocious little man-killer. We can't think of it. We'd have a hundred Sioux warriors on our heels in no time. Now hustle, you two! Pack faster than you ever packed before, and we'll start inside of two hours. Do you see any more smokes, Will?"

"No, the sky is now without a blemish."

"Which means they've talked enough and now they're traveling straight toward our valley. It's lucky they've got such rough country to cross before they reach us."

Inside the two hours they were headed for the western end of the valley, the Little Giant riding one of his mules, the other following. The wickiup was abandoned, but they brought much of the jerked meat with them, thinking wisely of their commissariat.

It was with genuine regret that Will looked back from his saddle upon Clarke Valley and Boyd Lake, shimmering and beautiful now in the opalescent sunshine. They had found peace and plenty there. It was a good place in which to live, if wild men would let one alone, and, loving solitude at times, he could have stayed there several weeks longer in perfect content. He caught the last gleam of the lake as they entered the pass. It had the deep sheen of melted silver, as the waters moved before the slow wind, and he sighed a little when a curve of the cliff cut it wholly from view.

"Never mind, young William," said the Little Giant, "you'll see other lakes and other valleys as fine, an' this wouldn't look so beautiful, after all, tomorrow, filled with ragin' Sioux huntin' our ha'r right whar it grows, squar' on top o' our heads."

Young Clarke laughed and threw off his melancholy.

"You're right," he said briskly. "The lake wouldn't look very beautiful if a half dozen Sioux were shooting at me. You came through this pass, now tell us what kind of a place it is."

"We ride along by the creek, an' sometimes the ledge is jest wide enough fur the horses an' mules. We go on that way four or five miles, provided we don't fall down the cliff into the creek an' bust ourselves apart. Then, ag'in, purvided we're still livin', we come out into a valley, narrow but steep, the water rushin' down it in rapids like somethin' mad. Then we keep on down the valley with our hosses lookin' ez ef they wuz walkin' on their heads, an' in four or five miles more, purvided, o' course, once more that we ain't been busted apart by falls, we come out into some woods. These woods are cut by gulleys an' ravines an' they have stony outcrops, but they'll look good by the side o' what you hev passed through."

"Encouraging, Giant!" laughed Will. "But hard as all this will be for us to pass over, it will be just as hard for the Sioux, our pursuers."

"Young William," said the Little Giant approvingly, "I like to hear you talk that way. It shows that you hev all the makin's o' them opty-mists, the bunch o' people to which I belong. I never heard that word till three or four years ago, when I wuz listenin' to a preacher in a minin' camp, an' it kinder appealed to me. So I reckoned I would try to live up to it an' make o' myself a real opty-mist. I been workin' hard at it ever sence, an' I think I'm qualifyin'."

"You're right at the head of the class, that's where you are, Giant," said Boyd heartily. "You've already earned a thousand dollars out of the mine that we're going to find, you with your whistling and cheerfulness bracing us up so that we're ready to meet anything."

"What's the use o' bein' an opty-mist ef you don't optymize?" asked the Little Giant, coining a word for himself. "Now, ain't this a nice, narrow pass? You kin see the water in the creek down thar, 'bout two hundred feet below, a-rushin' an' a-roarin' over the stones, an' then you look up an' see the cliff risin' five or six hundred feet over your head, an' here you are betwixt an' between, on a shelf less'n three feet broad, jest givin' room enough fur the horses an' mules an' ourselves, all so trim an' cosy, everythin' fittin' close an' tight in its place."

"It's a lot too close and tight for me, Giant!" exclaimed Will. "I've a terrible fear that I'll go tumbling off the path and into the creek two hundred feet below."

"Oh, no, you won't, young William. The people who fall off cliffs are mighty few compared with them that git skeered 'bout it. Ef you feel a-tall dizzy, jest ketch holt o' the tail o' that rear mule o' mine. He won't kick, an' he won't mind it, a-tall, a-tall. Instead o' that it'll give him a kind o' home-like feelin', bein' ez I've hung on to his tail myself so many times when we wuz goin' along paths not more'n three inches wide in the mountain side. You won't bother or upset him. The biggest cannon that wuz ever forged couldn't blast him out o' the path."

Thus encouraged, young Clarke seized the tail of the mule, which plodded unconcernedly on, and for the rest of the distance along the dizzying heights he felt secure. Nevertheless his relief was great when they emerged into the rough valley of which the Little Giant had spoken, and yet more when, still pressing on, they came to the rocky and hilly forest. Here they were all exhausted, animals and human beings alike, and they stopped a long time in the shade of the trees.

At that point there was no sign of the valley from which they had fled, unless one could infer its existence from the creek that flowed by. Looking back, Will saw nothing but a mass of forest and mountain, and then looking back a second time he saw rings of smoke rising from points which he knew must be in their valley. He examined and counted them through his glasses and described them to the hunter and the Little Giant.

"The Sioux have come down and invaded our pleasant home," said Boyd. "There's no doubt about it, and I can make a good guess that they're mad clean through, because they found us gone. They may be signaling now to another band to come up, and then they'll give chase. You've got to know, Will, that nothing will make the Sioux pursue like the prospect of scalps, white scalps. A Sioux warrior would be perfectly willing to go on a month's trail if he found a white scalp at the end of it."

"They'll naturally think that we'll turn off toward the south so as to hit the plains ez soon ez we kin," said the Little Giant.

"And for that reason, you think we should turn to the north instead, and go deeper into the mountains?" said Boyd.

"'Pears sound reasonin' to me."

"Then we'll do it."

"But we don't go fur, leastways not today. It wouldn't be more'n two or three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south, all thickenin' up. We're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' I think we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may come on."

Boyd and Will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter. Then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them being stretched tightly over the poles. Then, munching their cold food, they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in their blankets. Contrary to the Indian custom, they left the low door open for air, and just when Will felt himself well disposed for the night he heard the first patter of the sleet.

It was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. The old feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the wilderness had to offer returned to him. When they reached Clarke Valley and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the Sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. The Little Giant had made upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that would stand any test.

"The hail's goin' to drive all through the night," Giant Tom called out in the darkness.

"Right you are," said the hunter, "and the Sioux won't think of trying that pass on such a night. They're back in the valley, in wickiups of their own."

"Might it not stop them entirely?" asked Will.

"No, young William, it won't," said the Little Giant. "They'll come through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. But tonight, at least, nobody's goin' to find us."

They slept late the next morning, and when they crawled out of the wickiup they found the sleet packed about an inch deep on the ground. The horses and mules, protected by the pines, had not suffered much, and, in order that their trail might be hidden by the melting sleet, they packed and departed before breakfast, choosing a northwesterly direction. They picked the best ground, but it was all rough. Nevertheless the three were cheerful, and the Little Giant whistled like a nightingale.

"Ef I remember right," he said, "we'll soon be descendin', droppin' down fast so to speak, an' then the weather will grow a heap warmer. The sun's out now, though, an' by noon anyway all the sleet will be gone, which will help us a lot."

They had been walking most of the time, allowing their animals to follow, which both horses and mules did, not only through long training but because they had become used to the companionship of men. The three might have abandoned them, escaping pursuit in the almost inaccessible mazes of the mountains, but no such thought entered their minds. The horses and mules not only carried their supplies, chief among which being the ammunition, but also the tools with which to work the mine, and then, in Will's mind at least, they and more of them would be needed to bring back to civilization the tons of gold.

They were now in a fairly level, though narrow, valley, and all three of them were riding. Once more they saw far behind them smoke signals rising, and Boyd felt sure that the Sioux somehow had blundered upon the trail anew. Then he and the Little Giant spoke together earnestly.

"The longest way 'roun' is sometimes the shortest way through," said Giant Tom. "It's no plains for us, not fur many days to come. I'm thinkin' that what we've got to do is to keep on goin' deeper an' deeper into the mountains, an' higher an' higher, too, plum' up among them glaciers, whar the Sioux won't keer to foller. Then, when we winter a while thar we kin turn back toward the plains an' our search."

"Looks like good reasoning to me," said Boyd. "As I told the boy here, once, we're richer in time than anything else. We must make for the heights. What say you, Will?"

"I'm learning patience," replied the lad. "It's better to wait than to spill all the beans at once. Let's head straight for the glaciers."

Will felt that there was something terrible about the Sioux pursuit. He was beginning to realize to the full the power of Indian tenacity, and he was anxious to shake off the warriors, no matter how high they had to go. He knew nothing of the region about them, but he had heard that mountains in many portions of the West rose to a height of nearly three miles. He could well believe it, as he looked north and south to tremendous peaks with white domes, standing like vast, silent sentinels in the sky. They were majestic to him, but not terrifying, because they held out the promise of safety.

"If the worst came to the worst, could we live up there on one of those slopes, a while?" he asked.

"Do you mean by that could we find game enough?" said Boyd.

"Game and shelter both."

"We could. Like as not the mountain deer are plentiful. And there's a kind of buffalo called the wood bison, even bigger than the regular buffalo of the plains, not often found south of Canada, but to be met with now and then in our country. We might run across one of them, and he'd supply meat enough to feed an army. Besides, there are bears and deer and smaller game. Oh, we'd make out, wouldn't we, Tom?"

"We shorely would," replied the Little Giant, "but between you an' me an' the gate post, Jim, I think I see somethin' movin' on the slope acrost thar to the right. Young William, take your glasses an' study that spot whar the bushes are so thick."

"I can just barely make out the figures of men among the bushes," announced Will, after a good look.

"Then they're Indians," said Boyd with emphasis. "You wouldn't find white men lurking here in the undergrowth. It's a fresh band, hunters maybe, but dangerous just the same. We'd better push on for all we're worth."

They urged forward the horses and mules, seeking cover in the deep forest along the slope, but without success, as a faint yell soon told them. At the suggestion of Boyd, they stopped and examined the ground. The way was steadily growing steeper and more difficult, and the warriors, who were on foot could make greater speed than the fugitives.

"Lend me your glasses a minute, young William," said the Little Giant.

But he did not turn the lenses upon the Indians. Instead, he looked upward.

"Thar's a narrow pass not fur ahead," he said. "I think we'd better draw into it an' make a stand. The pass is deep, an' they can't assail us on either flank. It will have to be a straight-away attack."

"That's lucky, mighty lucky," said Boyd with heartfelt thankfulness. "Will, you push on with the animals, and maybe if you look back you'll see that what I told you about Giant Tom's sharpshooting is true."

Will hurried the horses and mules ahead, following a shallow dip that was the outlet of the deep pass they were seeking. Behind them he heard again the yells of the Indian warriors, hopeful now of an unexpected triumph. He saw their figures emerging from cover and he judged that they were at least twenty in number. He saw also that the Little Giant had stopped and was looking at the pursuers with a speculative eye, while his repeating rifle lay easily in the hollow of his arm. Then he urged the animals on and presently he looked back a second time.

He was just in time to see the breech of the rifle leap to the Little Giant's shoulder. "Leap" was the only word to describe it, his action was so swift and so little time did he waste in taking aim. It all passed in an instant, as he pulled the trigger, and the foremost Indian far down the slope threw up his arms, falling backward without a cry. In another instant he pulled the trigger again and another Indian fell beside the first. The whole band stopped, uttered a tremendous cry of rage, and then darted into the undergrowth for cover.

"Two," said Boyd. "Didn't I tell you, Will, that he was a wonder with the rifle?"

"I had to do it. I call you both to witness that I had to do it," said the Little Giant in a melancholy voice. "I'm a hunter o' gold an' not properly a killer o' men, even o' savage men. An' yet I find no gold, but I do kill. Sometimes I'm sorry that I happened to be born jest a natcherly good shot. I reckon we'd better whoop up our speed ez much ez we kin now, 'cause after that lesson they'll hang back a while afore follerin'."

"That's good generalship," said Boyd.

Will was already urging forward the animals, which, frightened by the shots, were making speed of their own accord toward the pass. The hunter and the Little Giant followed at a more leisurely gait, with their rifles ready to beat off pursuit. Some shots were fired from the bushes, but they fell short, and the two laughed in disdain.

"They'll have to do a lot better than that, won't they, Giant?" said the hunter.

"A powerful sight better, but they'll hope to slip up on us in the dark. It hurts my feelin's to hev to shoot any more of 'em, or to shoot anybody, but I'm afeard I'll hev to do it, Jim Boyd, afore we git through with this here piece o' business."

"In that case, Giant, just let your feelings go and shoot your best."

Will still led on, and, though his heart beat as hard as ever, it was more from the exertion of climbing than from apprehension. He had seen the two wonderful shots of the Little Giant, he knew what a wonderful marksman Boyd was also, and he felt since they were within the shelter of the pass, their three rifles might keep off any number of Sioux.

The shallow gully up which they were travelling now narrowed rapidly, and soon they were deep in the looming shadow of the pass, which seemed to end blindly farther on. But for the present it was a Heaven-sent refuge. At one point, where it widened somewhat, the horses and mules could stand, and there was even a little grass for them. A rill of water from the high rocks was a protection against what they had to fear most of all, thirst, and the three human beings in turn drank freely from it, letting the animals follow.

Boyd deftly tethered the horses and mules to bushes that grew at the foot of the cliff in the wide space, and then he joined the other two, who, lying almost flat, were watching at the entrance to the pass. The rocks there also gave them fine protection, and they felt they had reached a fort which would test all the ingenuity, patience and courage of the Sioux.

Will drew back behind a stony upthrust, sat up and used his glasses, searching everywhere among the rocks and bushes down the pass.

"What do you see, Young William?" asked the Little Giant.

"Nothing yet, Tom, except the bushes, the stones and the slopes of the mountains far across the valley."

"Nor you won't see nothin' fur some time. Took to cover, they hev. An' I don't blame 'em, either. We wouldn't be anxious ourselves to walk up ag'inst the mouths o' rifles that don't miss, an' Indians, bein' smart people, don't risk their lives when thar's nothin' to be gained."

"Then how are they going to get at us?"

"Not straight-away, but by means o' tricks."

"What tricks?"

"I don't know. Ef they wuz so plain ez all that they wouldn't be tricks. We'll hev to be patient."

All three of them drew back into the mouth of the pass, where they found abundant shelter behind the stony outcrops, while the Sioux, who lay hidden in the undergrowth farther down the slope, would be compelled to advance over open ground, if they made a rush. Young Clarke's confidence grew. That wonderful sharpshooting feat of the Little Giant was still in his mind. In such a position and with such marksmen as Boyd and Bent, they could not be overwhelmed.

"Take them glasses o' yourn, young William," said the Little Giant, "an' see ef you can pick out any o' the Sioux down the slope."

Will was able to trace three or four warriors lying down among the short cedars, apparently waiting with illimitable patience for any good idea that might suggest itself. The others, though out of sight, were certainly near and he was wondering what plan might occur to them.

"Do you think it likely that they know the pass?" he asked Boyd.

"Hardly," replied the hunter. "They are mountain Sioux, but on the whole they prefer the plains."

"Maybe they think then that they can wait, or at least hold us until we are overcome by thirst!"

"No, the little stream of water breaks a way down the slope somewhere, and when they find it they'll know that it comes from the pass. I think they'll attack, but just how and when is more'n I can say. Now, Will, will you go back where the animals are and cook us a good supper, including coffee? When you're besieged it's best to keep yourself well fed and strong. I saw plenty of dead wood there, tumbled from the cliffs above."

Young Clarke, knowing that he was not needed now at the mouth of the pass, was more than glad to undertake the task, since waiting was hard work.

He found the horses and mules lying down, and they regarded him with large, contemplative eyes as he lighted the fire and began to cook supper. The animals were on the best of terms, constituting a happy family, and the eyes with which they regarded Will seemed to him to be the eyes of wisdom.

"Shall we get safely out of this?" he asked, addressing himself to the animal circle.

Either it was fact, or his imagination was uncommonly lively, as he saw six large heads nod slowly and with dignity, but with emphasis.

"All of us?"

The six heads again moved slowly and with dignity.

"And with you, our faithful four-footed friends, and with the packs that are so needful to us?"

The six heads nodded a little faster, but with the same dignity. Will was just putting the coffee on to boil when he asked the last question and received the last answer, and he stopped for a moment to stare at the six animals, which were still regarding him with their large, contemplative eyes. Could he refuse to believe what he thought he saw? If fancy were not fact it often became fact a little later. Those were certainly honest beasts and he knew by experience that they were truthful, too, because he had never yet caught them in a lie. Animals did not know how to lie, wherein they were different from human beings, and while human beings were not prophets, at least in modern times, animals, for all he knew, might be, and he certainly intended to believe that the six, for the present, enjoyed the prophetic afflatus.

"I accept the omens as you give them," he said aloud. "From this moment I dismiss from my mind all doubt concerning the present affair."

Then he found himself believing his own words. The omens continued to be favorable. The coffee boiled with uncommon readiness and the strips of venison that he fried over the coals gave forth an aroma of unparalleled richness. Filling two large tin cups with the brown fluid he carried them to the watchers at the mouth of the pass, who drained them, each at a single draught.

"Best you ever made, Will," said Boyd.

"Ez good ez anybody ever made, young William," said the Little Giant.

"Now I'll bring you strips of venison and crackers," said Will, much pleased, "and after you've eaten them you can have another cup of coffee apiece."

His little task, his success at it, and the praise of his comrades cheered him wonderfully. When he had taken them the second cups of coffee and had also served himself, he put out the coals, picked up his rifle and rejoined the others. The first faint breath of the twilight was appearing over the mountains. The great ridges and peaks were growing dim and afar the wind of night was moaning.

"It'll be dark soon," said the Little Giant, "an' then we'll hev to watch with all our eyes an' all our ears. Onless the Sioux attack under kiver o' the night they won't attack at all."

"They'll come. Don't you worry about that, Tom," said Boyd. "The Sioux are as brave fighters as any that tread the earth, and they want our scalps bad, particularly yours. If I was an Indian and loved scalps as they do, I'd never rest until I got yours. The hair is so thick and it stands up so much, I'd give it a place of honor in my tepee, and whenever my warrior friends came in for a sociable evening's talk I'd tell 'em how I defeated you in battle and took your scalp, which is the king scalp."

"It's a comply-ment you make me to call my scalp the king scalp, but no Indian will ever take it. Do you see something stirring down thar 'mong the little cedars? Young William, them glasses o' yourn a minute or two."

He made a careful study with the glasses, and, when he handed them back, he announced:

"They're movin' 'mong the cedars. I made out at least a half dozen thar. Ez soon ez it's good an' dark they're goin' to try to creep up on us. Well, let 'em. We kin see pretty nigh ez good in the dark ez in the light, can't we, Jim Boyd?"

"I reckon we can see good enough, Giant, to draw a bead on anything that comes creeping, creeping after our hair."

Again Will felt pride that he was associated with two such formidable champions of the wild, but he did not let pride keep him from selecting a good high stony outcrop behind which he lay with his rifle ready and his revolver loose in his belt. Now and then, however, he held his rifle in only one hand and used the glasses so valuable to him, and which he was beginning to prize so highly.

Much time passed, however, and it passed slowly. Young Clarke realized that the other name for the Sioux was patience, but it was hard on his nerves, nevertheless. He wanted to talk, he longed to ask questions of the two borderers, but his will kept him from doing so. He was resolved not to appear nervous or garrulous at such a time.

The night deepened. The twilight had passed long since. Many of the stars did not come out and heavy waves of dusk rolled up the valley. The slopes of the opposite mountain became invisible, nor did Will see the dwarf cedars in which his glasses told him a portion of the Sioux band had lain hidden.

The time was so long that his muscles felt stiff and sore, and he stretched arms and legs vigorously to restore the circulation. Moreover the elevation was so great that it was growing quite cold in the pass, and he became eager for the warriors to attack if they were going to attack at all. But he remembered the saying that patience was only another name for Sioux and steeled his heart to endure.

The three were lying close together, all behind rocky upthrusts, and after a space that seemed a thousand years or so to Will the Little Giant edged toward him and whispered:

"Young William, you wouldn't mind lendin' me them glasses o' yourn once more?"

"As often as you like, Giant."

"Hand 'em over, then. Even ef it's night they've got a way o' cuttin' through the dark, an' I feel it's 'bout time now fur the Sioux to be comin'. They like to jump on an unsuspectin' foe 'bout midnight."

He took an unusually long look and handed the glasses back to Will. Then he whispered to both the lad and the hunter:

"I could make 'em out snakin' theirselves up the pass nigh flat on the rock."

"They hope to get so near in the dark that they can spring up and rush us."

"I reckon that's jest 'bout thar game, but them glasses o' young William's hev done give them away already. The Sioux hev fixed everythin' mighty careful, an' jest one thing that chance hez give us, young William's glasses, is goin' to upset 'em. Take a look, Jim."

"I can see 'em, so many dark spots moving, always moving up the pass and making no noise at all. Now, Will, you look, and after that we'll make ready with the rifles."

Will through the glasses saw them quite plainly now, more than a score of dark figures, advancing slowly but quite steadily. He threw the glasses over his shoulder and took up his rifle with both hands.

"Not yet, young William," said the Little Giant. "We don't want to waste any bullets, and so we'll wait until Jim gives the word. Ev'ry army needs a leader. Thar ain't but three in this army, but it hez to hev a leader jest the same and Jim Boyd is the man."

Will waited motionless, but he could not keep his heart from beating hard, as the Sioux, ruthless and bold, came forward silently to the attack. He did not have the infinite wilderness experience of the older two which had hardened them to every form of danger, and his imagination was alive and leaping. The dusky forms which he could now faintly see with the naked eye were increased by fancy threefold and four, and his eager finger slipped to the trigger of his rifle. He was sure they ought to fire now. The Sioux were certainly near enough! If they came any closer before meeting the bullets of the defense they would have a good chance to spring up and make a victorious rush. But the word to fire did not come. He glanced at their leader, and Boyd was still calmly watching.

The three lay very close together, and Will heard the hunter whisper to the Little Giant:

"How much nearer do you think I ought to let 'em come, Tom?"

"'Bout ten feet more, I reckon, Jim. Then though it's night, thar would be no chance fur a feller to miss, onless he shet his eyes, an' we want all our bullets to hit. Indians, even the bravest, don't like to rush riflemen that are ez good ez a batt'ry. Ef we strike 'em mighty hard the first time they'll fall back on tricks an' waitin'."

"Good sound reasoning, Tom. You hear, Will. Be sure you don't miss."

"I won't," replied the lad. Nevertheless those ten minutes, every one of them, had a way of spinning themselves out in such an extraordinary manner that his nerves began to jump again, and it required a great effort of the will to keep them quiet. The black shadows were approaching. They had passed over a stretch of rough ground that he had marked four or five minutes before, and the outlines of the figures were growing more distinct. He chose one on the extreme right for his aim. He could not yet see his features, of course, but he was quite certain that they were ugly and that the man was a warrior wicked beyond belief. Before he could fire upon anyone from ambush it was necessary for him to believe the man at whom he aimed to be utterly depraved, and the situation created at once such a belief in his mind.

He kept his eye steadily upon the ugly and wicked warrior, and as he watched for his chance and awaited the word from Boyd all scruples about firing disappeared from his mind. It was that warrior's life or his, and the law of self-preservation controlled. Nearer and yet nearer they came and the time had grown interminable when the hunter suddenly said in a low voice:

"Fire!"

Young Clarke pulled the trigger with a sure aim. He saw the hideous warrior draw himself into a bunch that sprang convulsively upward, but which, when it fell, lay back, outspread and quiet. Then he fired at a second figure, but he was not sure that he hit. The hunter and the Little Giant were already sending in their third and fourth bullets, with deadly aim, Will was sure, and the Sioux, after one mighty yell, wrenched from them by rage, surprise and fear, were fleeing down the pass under the fierce hail from the repeating rifles.

In a half minute all the shadows, save those outlined darkly on the ground, were gone, and there was complete and utter silence, while the light smoke from the rifles drifted about aimlessly, there being no wind. The three did not speak, but slipping in fresh cartridges continued to gaze down the pass. Then Will heard a wild, shrill scream behind him that made him leap a foot from the ground, and that set all his nerves trembling. The next moment he was laughing at himself. One of the horses had neighed in terror at the firing, and there are few things more terrifying than the terrified shriek of a horse.

"Maybe you'd better go back and see 'em, Will," said Boyd. "They may need quieting. I've noticed that you've a gentle hand with horses, and that they like you."

"And mules too," said the Little Giant. "Mine hev already taken a fancy for young William. But mules are much abused critters. You treat 'em well an' they'll treat you well, which is true of all tame animals."

Young Clarke suspected that they were sending him back to steady his own nerves as well as those of the animals after such a fierce encounter, but if so he was glad they had the thought. He was willing enough to go.

"Nothing will happen while you're gone," said Boyd cheerfully. "The Sioux, of course, would try to rush us again if they knew you were away, but they won't know it."

Will crawled until he came to a curve of the cliff that would hide him from any hidden Indian marksman, and then he rose to his feet, glad that he was able to stand upright. He found the horses and mules walking about uneasily at the ends of their lariats, but a few consoling strokes from him upon their manes quieted all of them, and, if they found comfort in his presence, he also found comfort in theirs.

Then he kneeled and drank at the rill, as if he had been parching in a desert for days.



CHAPTER V

THE WHITE DOME

The tide of cool water restored Will's nerves. After drinking he bathed his face in it, and then poured it over his neck. Good as he knew water to be he had never known that it could be so very good. It was in truth the wine of life. He shook out his thick hair, wet from the rill, and said triumphantly and aloud to the animals:

"We beat 'em back, Jim Boyd, the Little Giant and me, and we can do it again. We beat back a whole band of the Sioux nation, and we defy 'em to come on again. And you predicted it, all six of you! And you predict that we'll do it a second time, don't you?"

He was in a state of great spiritual exaltation, seeing things that others might not have seen, and he distinctly saw the six wise heads of the brutes, dumb but knowing so much, nod in affirmation.

"I accept the omen!" he said, some old scrap of Latin translation coming into his mind, "and await the future with absolute confidence!"

The horses and mules, stirred at first by the shots, and then not caring, perhaps, to rest, began to graze. All sign of alarm was gone from them and Will's heart resumed its normal beat. He listened attentively, but no sound came from the pass where his comrades, those deadly sharpshooters, watched. Far overhead the cliffs towered, and over them a sky darkly blue. He looked at it a little while, and then went back to the pass.

He had left his glasses with them, and they had not been able to discover anything suspicious.

"They won't come again into the mouth of the pass," said Boyd with confidence. "That rush cost 'em too much. They'll spend a long time thinking up some sort of trick, and that being the case you go now, Giant, and have a drink at the stream, and pour water over your head and face as Will has done."

"So I will, Jim. I'm noticing that young William has a lot o' sense, an' after I've 'tended to myself fine I'll come back, an' you kin do ez much fur yourself. A good bathin' o' your face won't hurt your beauty, Jim."

He was gone a half hour, not hurrying back, because he felt there was no need to do so. Meanwhile Will lay behind his rock and watched the dusky pass. Wisps of vapor and thin clouds were floating across the heavens, hiding some of the stars, and the light was not as good as it had been earlier in the night, but constant use and habit enable one to see through the shadows, and he also had the glasses to fall back upon. But even with their aid he could discern nothing save the stony steep.

"They won't come again, not that way, as I told you before," said Boyd, when young Clarke put down his glasses after the tenth searching look. "When they made the rush they expected to have a warrior or two hit, but they didn't know the greatest marksman in all the world, the Little Giant, was here waiting for 'em, and if I do say it myself, I'm as good with the rifle as anybody in the west, except Tom, and you're 'way above the average too, Will. No, they've had enough of charging, but I wish to heaven I knew what wicked trick they're thinking out now."

The Little Giant returned, bathed, refreshed and joyous.

"Your turn now, Jim," he said, "an' you soak your head an' face good in the water. Don't dodge it because you think thar ain't plenty o' water, 'cause thar is. It keeps on a-runnin' an' a-runnin', an' it never runs out. Stay ez long ez you want to, 'cause young William an' me kin hold the pass ag'inst all the confederated tribes o' the Sioux nation, an' the Crows an' the Cheyennes an' the Blackfeet throwed in."

Boyd departed and presently he too returned, strengthened anew for any task.

"Now, Will," he said, "you being the youngest, and it's only because you're the youngest, you'd better go back there where the horses and mules are. They've got over their fright and are taking their rest again. They appear to like you, to look upon you as a kind of comrade, and I think it's about time you took a bit of rest with them."

"But don't hev a nightmare an' kick one o' my mules," said the Little Giant, "'cause the best tempered mule in the world is likely to kick back ag'in."

Will smiled. He knew their raillery was meant to cheer him up, because of his inexperience, and their desperate situation. He recognized, too, that it would be better for him to sleep if he could, as they were more than sufficient to guard the pass.

"All right," he said. "I obey orders."

"Good night to you," said the hunter.

"Good night," said the Little Giant, "an' remember not to kick one o' my mules in your sleep."

"I won't," replied Will, cheerfully, as he went around the curve of the wall.

He found the horses and mules at rest, and everything very quiet and peaceful in the alcove. The rill murmured a little in its stony bed, and, far overhead, he heard the wind sighing among the trees on the mountain. He chose a place close to the wall, spread two blankets there, on which he expected to lie, and prepared to cover himself with two more. He realized now that he was tired to the bone, but it was not a nervous weariness and sleep would cure it almost at once.

He was arranging the two blankets that were to cover him, when he heard a rumbling noise far over his head. At first he thought it was distant thunder echoing along the ridges, but the wisps of cloud were too light and thin to indicate any storm. He saw the horses and mules rise in alarm, and then not one but several of them gave out shrill and terrible neighs of terror, a volume of frightened sound that made young Clarke's heart stand still for a moment.

The sound which was not that of thunder, but of something rolling and crashing, increased with terrific rapidity, stopped abruptly for a moment or two and then a huge dark object shooting down in front of his eyes, struck the ground with mighty impact. It seemed to him that the earth trembled. He sprang back several feet and all the horses and mules, rearing in alarm, crouched against the cliff.

A great bowlder lay partly buried. It had rolled from the edge of the cliff high above, and he divined at once that the Sioux had made it roll. They had climbed the stony mountains enclosing the defile, and were opening a bombardment, necessarily at random, but nevertheless terrible in its nature. While he hesitated, not knowing what to do, a second bowlder thundered, bounded and crashed into the chasm. But it struck much farther away.

The Little Giant came running at the sound, leaving Boyd on guard at the mouth of the pass, and as he arrived a third rock struck, though, like the second, at a distance, and he knew without any words from Will, what the Sioux were now trying to do. As he looked up, a fourth crashed down, and it fell very near.

"So that's thar trick?" exclaimed the Little Giant. "Simple ez you please, but ez dang'rous ez a batt'ry o' cannon. Look out, young William, thar's another."

It struck so close to Will that he felt the shock and ran back to the shelter of the overhanging cliff, where, driven by instinct, the horses and mules were already crowding. Nor did the Little Giant, brave as he was, hesitate to follow him.

"When you're shot at out o' the sky," he said, "the best thing to do is to go into hidin'. One ain't wholly under cover here, but it ud be a long chance ef any o' them rocks got us."

"What about Jim, watching at the mouth of the pass?"

"He won't stir until he hears from me. He'll set thar, unmoved, with his rifle ready, waitin' fur the Sioux jest ez ef he expected them to come. I'll slip back an' tell him to keep on waitin', also what's goin' on in here."

"Skip fast then! Look out! That barely missed you! They're sending the rocks down in showers now."

The Little Giant, as agile as a greyhound, vanished around the curve, and Will instinctively crowded himself closely and more closely against the stone wall while the dangerous bombardment went on. The animals, their instinct still guiding them, were doing the same, and Boyd's brave Selim, which was next to him, reached out his head and nuzzled Will's hand, as if he found strength and protection in the presence of the human being, who knew so much more about some things than he or his comrades did. Will responded at once.

"I don't think they can get us here, Selim, old boy," he said. "The projection of the wall is slight, but it sends every rock out toward the center. Now, if you and your comrades will only be intelligent you'll keep safe."

He arranged them in a row along the wall, where none would interfere with the protection of another, and standing with Selim's nose in his hand, watched the great rocks strike. Luckily at that particular point the bottom of the defile was soft earth and they sank into it, but farther up they fell with a crash on a stony floor, and when they did not split to pieces they bounded and rebounded like ricochetting cannon balls.

The Little Giant returned presently, but as yet no damage had been done, although the bombardment was going on as furiously as ever.

"They'll keep it up awhile," he said, as he huddled against the wall by the side of Will. "I knowed they would be up to some trick, but I didn't think 'bout them bowlders that lay thick on the mounting. They hev got 'nuff ammunition o' that kind to last a year, but arter a while thar arms will grow tired, an' then they'll grow tired too, o' not knowin' whether they hit or not. It wears out the best man in the world to keep on workin' forever an' forever without knowin' whether he's accomplishin' anything or not. All we've got to do is to hug the wall an' set tight."

"Wouldn't it be well, Giant, when the bombardment lets up, to gather together our own little army and take to flight up the pass?"

"An' whar would we fetch up?"

"It's not likely to be a box canyon. I've read that they abound more in the southern mountains, and are not met with very often here. And even if the pass itself didn't take us out we might find a cross canyon or a slope that we could climb."

"Sounds good, young William. We'll git the hosses an' mules ready, packs on 'em, and bridles in thar mouths, an' ez soon ez the arms an' sperrits o' the Sioux git tired, I'll hot foot after Jim, an' then we'll gallop up the pass."

The Little Giant's psychology was correct. In a half hour the bombardment began to decrease in violence, and in ten more minutes it ceased entirely. Then, according to plan, he ran to the mouth of the pass and returned with the hunter, who had promptly accepted their plan. Coaxing forth the reluctant animals, which were still in fear, they set off up the great defile, passing among the bowlders, some of great size, which had been tumbled down in search of their heads.

"Thar's one consolation," said the Little Giant, philosophically, "ef any o' them big rocks had hit our heads we wouldn't hev been troubled with wounds. My skull's hard, but it would hev been shattered like an eggshell."

"They may begin again," said Boyd, "but by then we ought to be far away."

It was a venture largely at random, but the three were agreed that it must be made. The Sioux undoubtedly would resume the bombardment later on, and they might also receive reinforcements sufficient to resume the attack at the mouth of the pass, or at least to keep up there a distant fire that would prove troublesome. Every motive prompted to farther flight, and they pushed on as fast as they could, although the bottom of the defile became rough, sown with bowlders and dangerous to the fugitives.

They made no attempt to ride, but led the horses and mules at the ends of their lariats, all the animals becoming exceedingly wary at the bad footing.

"It's a blind canyon after all!" suddenly exclaimed the Little Giant in deep disgust. "The stream comes down that mountain wall thar, droppin' from ledge to ledge, an' here we are headed off."

"Then there's nothing to do," said the hunter, "but choose a good place among the rocks and fight for our lives when they come."

Will looked up at the steep and lofty slopes on either side. The one on the right seemed less steep and lofty than the other, and upon it hung a short growth of pine and cedar, characteristic of the region. His spirit, which danger had made bold and venturesome, seized upon an idea.

"Why not go up the slope on the right?" he asked.

"It's like the side of a house, only many times as high," said Boyd in amazement.

"But it isn't," said the lad. "It merely looks so in the dark. We can climb it."

"Of course we could, but we'd have to abandon the horses and mules and all our packs and stores, and then where would we be?"

"But we won't have to leave 'em. They can climb too. You know how you boasted of our horses, and the Giant's horses are mules which can go anywhere."

"I believe the boy's right," said the Little Giant. "By our pullin' on the lariats an' thar takin' advantage o' ev'ry footgrip, they might do it. Leastways we kin try it."

"It's a desperate chance," said the hunter, "but I think with you, Tom, that it's worth trying. Now, boys, make fast the packs to the last strap, and up we go."

"Bein' as my hosses are mules," said the Little Giant, "I'll lead the way, an' you foller, each feller pullin' on two lariats."

He started up the slope, whistling gayly but low to his mules, and, after some hesitation, they attacked the ascent, Tom still whistling to them in his most cheerful and engaging manner. There was a sound of scrambling feet, and small stones rolled down, but not the mules, which disappeared from sight among the cedars.

"Thunderation! I wouldn't have thought it!" exclaimed the hunter, "but I believe you're right, Will! The mules are climbing the wall. Now, we'll see if the horses can do it!"

"Let me start with 'em!"

"All right! But pull hard on the lariat, whenever you feel one of 'em slipping."

Will attacked the steep wall with vigor, but he had to pull very hard indeed on the lariats before he could make the horses try it. Finally they made the effort, and, though slipping and sliding at times, they crept up the slope. Behind him he heard Boyd, coming with the last two and speaking in encouraging tones to Selim.

The lariats were a great help, and if Will had not hung on to them so hard his horses would have fallen. But he was right in his judgment that the face of the wall was not so steep as it looked. Moreover there were little shelves and gullies, and the tough clumps of cedar were a wonderful aid. The horses justified their reputation as climbers, and, although Will's heart was in his mouth more than once, and his hands and wrists were cut and bleeding by the pull on the lariats, they did not fall. Always he heard in front of him the low and cheerful whistling of the Little Giant, to his mules, which, sure-footed, went on almost without a slip.

At last they drew out upon the crest of the slope and the three human beings and the six animals stood there trembling violently from exertion, the perspiration pouring from them.

"My legs are shaking under me," said the hunter. "I'd never have believed that it could have been done, and I know it couldn't, but here we are, anyhow."

"It wuz young William who thought of it, and who dared to speak of it," said the Little Giant, "an' so it's his win."

"Right you are, Giant," said the hunter heartily. "When I looked at that cliff it stood up straight as a wall to me. It was like most other things, it wasn't as hard when you attacked it as you thought it was, but I still don't see how we ever got the animals up, and if I didn't see 'em standing here I wouldn't believe it."

Will, holding to a cedar, looked into the gulf from which they had climbed. As more of the stars had gone away he could not now see the bottom. The great defile had all the aspects of a vast and bottomless abyss, and he felt that their emergence from it was a marvel, a miracle in which they had been assisted by some greater power. He was assailed by a weakness and, trembling, he drew back from the ledge. But neither the hunter nor the Little Giant had seen his momentary collapse and he was glad, pardonable though it was.

"The ground back o' the cliff seems to be pretty well covered with forest," said the Little Giant, "an' I reckon we'd better stay here a spell 'til everybody, men an' animals, git rested up a bit."

"You never spoke truer words, Tom Bent," said Boyd. "I can make out a fairly level stretch of ground just ahead, and I'll lead the way to it."

They crouched there. "Crouch" is the only word that describes it, as the horses and mules themselves sank down through weariness, and their masters, too, were glad enough to lie on the earth and wait for their strength to come back. Will's senses, despite his exhaustion, were nevertheless acute. He heard a heavy, lumbering form shuffling through a thicket, and he knew that it was an alarmed bear moving from the vicinity of the intruders. He heard also the light tread of small animals.

"I judge from these sounds," said Boyd, "that we must be on a sort of plateau of some extent. If it was just a knife edge ridge between two chasms you wouldn't find so many animals here. Maybe we'd better lay by until day, or until it's light enough to see. In the dark we might tumble into some place a thousand feet deep."

"What about the Sioux who were on the heights throwing down the rocks?" asked Will. "Mightn't they come along the cliff and find us here?"

"No. The way may be so cut by dips and ravines that it's all but impassable. The chances are a thousand to one in favor of it, as this is one of the roughest countries in the world."

"A thousand to one is good enough for me," said Will, stretching himself luxuriously on the ground. Presently he saw Boyd and Bent wrapping themselves in the blankets and he promptly imitated them, as a cold wind was beginning to blow down from the northwest, a wind that cut, and, at such a time, a lack of protection from the weather might be fatal.

The warmth from the blankets pervaded his frame, and with the heat came the restoration of his nerves. There was also a buoyancy caused by the escape from the Sioux, and, for the time being at least, he felt a certain freedom from care. His comrades and the animals did not stir, and, while not thinking of sleep, he fell asleep just the same.

He was awakened by a long, fierce shout, much like the howl of hungry wolves, and full of rage and disappointment. He sat up on his blankets, and was amazed to hear the two men laughing softly.

"It's them thar Sioux, Will," said the Little Giant. "They've found out at last that thar was no outlet at the end o' the pass, an' they've come up it to the end, jest to run ag'inst a blank wall, an' to find that we've plum' vanished, flew away, hosses an' mules an' all."

"But won't they find our trail up the cliff?"

"No, they won't dream o' sech a thing, but in case they do dream o' it we'll all three creep to the edge an' set thar with our repeatin' rifles. A fine time they'd hev climbin' up thar in the face o' three sharpshooters armed with sech weapons ez ours."

Will saw at once that their position was well nigh impregnable, at least against foes in the defile, and he crept with the others to the edge, not forgetting his invaluable glasses. A lot of the stars had come back and with the aid of the powerful lenses, he was able to penetrate the depths of the pass, seeing there at least a score of Sioux in a group, apparently taking counsel with one another. He could not discern their faces, and, of course, their words were inaudible at the distance, but their gestures expressed perplexity. Their savage minds might well believe that witchcraft had been at work, and he hoped that they had some such idea. The climbing of the cliff by the animals was an achievement bordering so closely upon the impossible that even if they saw traces of the hoofs on the lower slopes they would think the spirits of the air had come down to help the fugitives.