ed by something that brought a whistle to his
lips. "Just cast your eyes up there, Bill. See where I'm pointing? If
that ain't a prospect-hole! An' follow it out to both sides--you can
see where they tramped in the snow. If it ain't rim-rock on both sides I
don't know what rim-rock is. It's a fissure vein, all right."

"An' look at the size of it!" Saltman cried. "They've got something
here, you bet."

"An' run your eyes down the slide there--see them bluffs standin' out
an' slopin' in. The whole slide's in the mouth of the vein as well."

"And just keep a-lookin' on, out on the ice there, on the trail,"
Saltman directed. "Looks like most of Dawson, don't it?"

Wild Water took one glance and saw the trail black with men clear to the
far Dawson bank, down which the same unbroken string of men was pouring.

"Well, I'm goin' to get a look-in at that prospect-hole before they get
here," he said, turning and starting swiftly up the ravine.

But the cabin door opened, and the two occupants stepped out.

"Hey!" Smoke called. "Where are you going?"

"To pick out a lot," Wild Water called back. "Look at the river. All
Dawson's stampeding to buy lots, an' we're going to beat 'em to it for
the choice. That's right, ain't it, Bill?"

"Sure thing," Saltman corroborated. "This has the makin's of a Jim-dandy
suburb, an' it sure looks like it'll be some popular."

"Well, we're not selling lots over in that section where you're
heading," Smoke answered. "Over to the right there, and back on top of
the bluffs are the lots. This section, running from the river and over
the tops, is reserved. So come on back."

"That's the spot we've gone and selected," Saltman argued.

"But there's nothing doing, I tell you," Smoke said sharply.

"Any objections to our strolling, then?" Saltman persisted.

"Decidedly. Your strolling is getting monotonous. Come on back out of
that."

"I just reckon we'll stroll anyways," Saltman replied stubbornly. "Come
on, Wild Water."

"I warn you, you are trespassing," was Smoke's final word.

"Nope, just strollin'," Saltman gaily retorted, turning his back and
starting on.

"Hey! Stop in your tracks, Bill, or I'll sure bore you!" Shorty
thundered, drawing and leveling two Colt's forty-fours. "Step another
step in your steps an' I let eleven holes through your danged ornery
carcass. Get that?"

Saltman stopped, perplexed.

"He sure got me," Shorty mumbled to Smoke. "But if he goes on I'm up
aga