ointed time. At the mouth of the canyon two very faithful old donkeys,
that had years before belonged to a prospector, were rented for the trip.
Under their former master they had been trained to carry heavy loads of
ore from the little mine far back in the mountains out to the city, and
to return again heavily laden with the provisions for another winter in
camp. They had learned their lessons well, so were perfectly trustworthy.

Peanuts was the oldest, and therefore came in for the most consideration
and the lightest load. As he raised his tired, patient old head, his long
gray ears pointed forward at the sight of the pack saddles. One glance
and he was satisfied. He perfectly understood what was coming, and
visions of the long, zigzag paths through shaded valleys all fresh from
the summer showers flashed through his brain. Peanuts loved the trail,
the deep, long, grassy trail, that crept along close to the little
stream, then up and up into the great Silent Places. Tradition told that
Peanuts had been the first donkey to carry a pack up Pike's Peak, as well
as the first to bring real "high grade" out of the Cripple Creek; but of
course tradition might have been mistaken. At any rate, Peanuts was a
gentle, slow, patient toiler of the trail, and it was largely due to his
good judgment that the cabin was ever equipped.

Many were the trips he made after that first journey. There were
summer trips in the hot sun of July days; autumn trips in the cool,
sweet-scented evenings when the mountain twilight lingers on the treetops
and the rocky crests. There were trips in the winter when the trail was
hidden underneath heavy blankets of snow or lost in the deep white
drifts. Once he had gone in beyond his depth and had settled down and
down into the fluffy snow until just his head and big ears were visible
above the snowbank.

His companion, Tuberculosis, was a little different type of beast. His
legs were long and his spirits high. He was in the prime of life and was
not as trustworthy as his partner. Certainly Tuberculosis had his
idiosyncrasies, and that fact often spelled trouble for both himself
and his masters. Now, Peanuts had learned that his driver was always
boss, and acted accordingly; but not so with Tuberculosis. He believed
that his own judgment in certain matters of conduct was best. For
instance, it was absolutely against his principles to ever cross a
stream, no matter how well it was bridged or how insignifi