the same
question. "Three miles," he answered, with great decision.

"That creek seems to be retreating," said Jack, after the man
had gone on. "We've got to hurry and catch it, or it will run
clean into Deadwood and crawl down a gold mine."

It was growing dark. We forged ahead for another mile, and by
this time it was quite as dark as it was going to be, with a
cloudy sky, and mountains and pines shutting out half of that. I
was walking ahead With the lantern, and came to a place where the
trail divided.

"The road forks here," I called. "Which do you suppose is
right?"

"Which seems to be the most travelled?" asked Jack.

"Can't see any difference," I replied. "We'll have to leave
it to the instinct of the horses."

"Yes, I'd like to put myself in the grasp of Old Blacky's
instinct. The old scoundrel would go wrong if he knew which was
right."

"Well," I returned, "come on and see which way he turns, and
then go the other way." (Jack always declared that the old fellow
understood what I said.)

He drove up to the forks, and Blacky turned to the right.
Jack drew over to the left, and we went up that road. We
continued to go up it for fully three miles, though we soon
became convinced that it was wrong. It constantly grew narrower
and apparently less travelled. We were soon winding along a
mountain-side among the pines, and around and above and below
great rocks.

"We'll go till we find a decent place to camp, and then stop
for the night," said Jack. We finally came to a little level
bench covered with giant pines, and we could hear water beyond. I
went on with the lantern, and found a small stream leaping down a
gulch.

"This is the place to stop," I said, and we soon had our camp
established, and a good fire roaring up into the tree-tops. Ollie
found plenty of dry pine wood, and we blanketed the horses and
stood them under a protecting ledge. It was cold, and the wind
roared down the gulch and moaned in the pines, but we scarcely
felt it below. We finished drying our bedding and had a good
supper. Jack got out his banjo and tried to compete with the
brook and the pines. We went to bed feeling that we were glad we
had missed the road, since it had brought so delightful a
camping-place.

Ollie was the first to wake in the morning. It was quite
light.

"What makes the cover sag down so?" he asked. Jack opened his
eyes, reached up with the whipstock and raised it. Something sli