ove, reaching far into the blue
dome of the sky, rose the peaks of the snow-capped Sangre de Christo,
glistening in the morning sunlight, which threw gaunt, fantastic
shadows in canyon and deep ravine.

It was a wild, weird scene, where man, in strength and vigor, seems to
imbibe a portion of the divine essence that lives, and moves, and has
its being in the vast solitudes.

We struck pay rock at the first thirty feet of tunneling, so Amos'
assay showed, and the rock had gradually increased in value, week by
week. Buchan would take samples of the ore every week or ten days and
walk a distance of twenty-five miles to Saguache, where old man Amos,
expert geologist and assayer, would for two dollars and fifty cents
make out a clean printed slip with figures in red ink, showing so
many ounces of lead, copper, silver and gold to the ton.

The ore had not yet reached a value which would pay to ship it, but
the increase of values was so steady, and Amos was so extravagantly
encouraging, that we were always in buoyant expectation of rich ore.
He would say, "You boys have a wonderful prospect. Keep right on with
your work; it is getting richer with every stroke of your pick and you
are likely to uncover a million dollar drift any day."

Buchan would bring the assay certificate back to the cabin, where we
would sit late by the light of the pine knots in the fire place and
talk of the golden millions which capitalists would yet gladly pay for
a half interest in the "Aberdeen."

That was the name Buchan had given the mine, after his home town in
Scotland, of which he always spoke with a fond tenderness.

Winter had come and we, John Buchan, Will Carson, and myself, had
chipped in almost our last dollar and brought a wagon load of flour,
bacon and canned goods from Saguache to the foot of the mountains,
then carried them on our backs to the cabin. We quit work on the mine
for ten days and chopped firewood, which we corded at the rear of our
house. All hands felt that we were as snugly housed for the winter as
the big grizzly bears in their lairs among the rocks.

Snow had been falling for several days and it lay deep on the mountain
slopes and in the wide expanse of the valley below. We had not had an
assay for two weeks and all were anxious for another report from Amos.
Buchan wanted his mail also, and he took a small bag of the rock and
tramped the twenty-five miles to Saguache. It was a three days' trip
wading through the