he had read his newspaper he began to talk to me.

"This road follows the old trail that the goldseekers took in
forty-nine," he said. "We're comin' soon to a place, Apache Pass, where
the Apaches used to ambush the wagon-trains, It's somewheres along
here."

Presently the train wound into a narrow yellow ravine, the walls of
which grew higher and higher.

"Them Apaches was the worst redskins ever in the West. They used to hide
on top of this pass an' shoot down on the wagon-trains."

Later in the day he drew my attention to a mountain standing all by
itself. It was shaped like a cone, green with trees almost to the
summit, and ending in a bare stone peak that had a flat top.

"Starvation Peak," he said. "That name's three hundred years old, dates
back to the time the Spaniards owned this land. There's a story about it
that's likely true enough. Some Spaniards were attacked by Indians an'
climbed to the peak, expectin' to be better able to defend themselves
up there. The Indians camped below the peak an' starved the Spaniards.
Stuck there till they starved to death! That's where it got its name."

"Those times you tell of must have been great," I said, regretfully.
"I'd like to have been here then. But isn't the country all settled now?
Aren't the Indians dead? There's no more fighting?"

"It's not like it used to be, but there's still warm places in the West.
Not that the Indians break out often any more. But bad men are almost as
bad, if not so plentiful, as when Billy the Kid run these parts. I saw
two men shot an' another knifed jest before I went East to St. Louis."

"Where?"

"In Arizona. Holston is the station where I get off, an' it happened
near there."

"Holston is where I'm going."

"You don't say. Well, I'm glad to meet you, young man. My name's Buell,
an' I'm some known in Holston. What's your name?"

He eyed me in a sharp but not unfriendly manner, and seemed pleased to
learn of my destination.

"Ward. Kenneth Ward. I'm from Pennsylvania."

"You haven't got the bugs. Any one can see that," he said, and as I
looked puzzled he went on with a smile, and a sounding rap on his chest:
"Most young fellers as come out here have consumption. They call it
bugs. I reckon you're seekin' your fortune."'

"Yes, in a way."

"There's opportunities for husky youngsters out here. What're you goin'
to rustle for, if I may ask?"

"I'm going in for forestry."

"Forestry? Do you mean lumberin'?"

"No. F