"That's the most interesting thing here," said Jack. "I'd
like to send the Blacksmith's Pet down the thing and see what he
would do. I'll wager he'd kick the wood-pile all over the town
after he alighted."

We spent nearly the whole day in wandering about the
stamp-mills. The great steam engines which operated them were
some of the largest we had ever seen.

"And think," observed Jack, "of the fact that all of this
heavy machinery, including the big engines and the locomotives
and cars, and, in fact, everything, was brought overland on
wagons, probably most of it nearly three hundred miles. No wonder
people got to driving such teams as Henderson's."

Toward night we returned to Deadwood by the way of Central
City. Here were more great mines and mills, but they did not Seem
to be so prosperous, and part of the town was deserted, and
consisted of nothing but empty houses. Just as the sun set we
drove in through the Golden Gate, and east anchor at our old camp
near the mill.

The next morning was wintry again, with snowflakes floating
in the air. The ground was frozen, and the wind seemed to come
through the wagon-cover with rather more freedom than we enjoyed.

"It's time we began the return voyage," said Jack. "We're a
long way from home, and we won't get there any too soon if we go
as fast as we can and take the shortest out." So we started that
afternoon.

The shortest cut was to return to Rapid City, and then,
instead of going south into Nebraska, to go straight east,
through the Sioux Indian Reservation, crossing the Missouri at
Pierre, and then on across the settled country of eastern Dakota
to Prairie Flower, over against the Minnesota line.

We followed the same road between Deadwood and Rapid City,
with the exception that we turned out in one place, and went
around by Fort Meade. Here we found a beautiful camping-place the
first night near a little stream and great overhanging rocks, and
not far from Bear Butte. We reached Rapid late the next night,
which was Saturday, and stopped at the old camp near the
mill-race. Here we stayed over Sunday, but Monday noon saw us
under sail again. As we went through the town we stopped at the
freighter's camp, and told 'Gene Brooks good-bye, and then drove
away across the wide rolling plain to the east.

'Gene had warned us that we had a lonesome road before us to
Pierre, one hundred and seventy miles, nearly all of it across
the reservation.

"Yo