y on again. There's a dip in
the road, you know, Phil, a little further on, and as soon as I had
driven down into it, out of sight, I pulled up, jumped out of the
buckboard, and running up the hill again I crawled to the top of the
rise and looked back. There was the man, going across the mesa at a run,
headed straight for Big Reuben's gorge!"

Joe paused, and for a moment we all sat looking at each other in
silence.

"Any idea who he was?" I asked presently.

"Yes," replied Joe, without hesitation. "It was Long John Butterfield."

"You seem very sure," remarked Peter; "but do you think you could
recognize him so far off?"

"I feel sure it was Long John," Joe answered. "I have very long sight;
and as the man stood there on top of the 'bubble,' with the sun shining
full upon him, he looked as tall as a telegraph pole. Yes, I feel
certain it was Long John."

"Then Yetmore has started him out to prospect for that vein!" I cried.
"He is probably camped in the neighborhood of Big Reuben's gorge,
following up the stream, and I suppose he heard the roar of the slide
yesterday and came down this way the first thing this morning to get a
look at the scar."

"That's it, I expect," Joe answered.

"And you suppose," said Peter, "that he went running back to his camp
to get his tools and go prospecting up on the scar."

Joe nodded.

"Then, what do you propose to do?" asked the hermit.

"I've been thinking about it as I drove back," replied Joe, "and my
opinion is that Phil and I ought to go up at once, see if we can't find
the spot where that big tree was rooted out, and stake the claim for Tom
Connor. If we lose a whole day by going up to Sulphide to notify Tom, it
would give Long John a chance to get in ahead of us and perhaps beat us
after all."

The bare idea of such a catastrophe was too much for me. I sprang out of
my chair, crying, "We'll go, Joe! And we'll start at once! How are we to
get up there, Peter? There must be any amount of snow; and we are
neither of us any good on skis, even if we had them."

"Yes, there's plenty of snow," replied Peter promptly, entering with
heartiness into the spirit of the enterprise, "lots of snow, but you can
avoid most of it by taking the ridge on the right of the creek and
following along its summit to where it connects with the saddle. You'll
find a little cliff up there, barring your way, but by turning to your
left and keeping along the foot of the precipice you will co