decided to go out of business. Just at
this time "the Leadville excitement" was making a great stir in the
country; thousands of men were heading for the new Eldorado, and Joe,
his old friend consenting, determined to join the throng.

It was, perhaps, lucky for the young blacksmith that he started rather
late, for, on his approach to the mountains, he encountered files of
disappointed men streaming in the opposite direction, and hearing their
stories of the overcrowded condition of things in Leadville, he
determined to try instead the mining camp of Sulphide, when, passing our
place on the way he was caught by my father, as I have described, and
turned into a ranchman.

Such was the condition of affairs with us when Big Reuben made his final
raid upon our pig-pen.

The reward of one hundred dollars which the county paid us for our
exploit in ridding the community of Big Reuben's presence came in very
handily for Joe and me. It enabled us to achieve an object for which we
had long been hoarding our savings--the purchase of a pair of mules.

For the past two years, in the slack season, after the gathering of our
hay and potato crops, we had hired out during the fine weather remaining
to a man whose business it was to cut and haul timbers for the mines in
and around the town of Sulphide, which lay in the mountains seven miles
southwestward from our ranch. We found it congenial work, and Joe and I,
who were now seventeen years old, hardened to labor with ax, shovel or
pitchfork, saw no reason why we should not put in these odd five or six
weeks cutting timbers on our own account. No reason but one, that is to
say. My father would readily lend us one of his wagons, but he could not
spare a team, and so, until we could procure a team of our own, we were
obliged to forego the honor and glory--to say nothing of the expected
profits--of setting up as an independent firm.

Now, however, we had suddenly and unexpectedly acquired the necessary
funds, and with the money in our pockets away we went at once to Ole
Johnson's, from whom we bought a stout little pair of mouse-colored
mules upon which we had long had an eye.

But though the firm of Crawford and Garnier might now, if it pleased,
consider itself established, it could not enter upon the practice of its
business for some time yet. It was still the middle of summer, and there
was plenty to do on the ranch: the hay and the oats would be ready to
cut in two weeks, while a