the Basin."

By now they were riding over a bed of springy pine needles through a
magnificent open forest. Undergrowth absolutely lacked; even the soft
green of the bear clover was absent. The straight columns of the trees
rose grandly from a swept floor. Only where tiny streams trickled and
sang through rocks and shallow courses, grew ferns and the huge leaves
of the saxifrage. In this temple-like austerity dwelt a silence unusual
to the Sierra forests. The lack of undergrowth and younger trees implied
a scarcity of insects; and this condition meant an equal scarcity of
birds. Only the creepers and the great pileated woodpeckers seemed to
inhabit these truly cloistral shades. The breeze passed through branches
too elevated to permit its whisperings to be heard. The very sound of
the horses' hoofs was muffled in the thick carpet of pine needles.

California John led them sharp to the right, however, and in a few
moments they emerged to cheerful sunlight, alders, young pines among the
old, a leaping flashing stream of some size, and multitudes of birds,
squirrels, insects and butterflies.

"There's a meadow, and a good camping place just up-stream," said he.
"It's easy riding. You'd better spread your blankets there. Now, here's
the corner to 34. We reestablished it four years ago, so as to have
_something_ to go by in this country. You can find your way about from
there. That bold cliff of rock you see just through the trees there you
can climb. From the top you can make out the lookout. If you're wanted
at headquarters we'll hang out a signal. That will save a hard ride
down. Let's see; how long you got grub for?"

"I guess there's enough to last us ten days or so," replied Elliott.

"Well, if you keep down this stream until you strike a big bald slide
rock, you'll run into an old trail that takes you to the Flats. It's
pretty old, and it ain't blazed, but you can make it out if you'll sort
of keep track of the country. It ain't been used for years."

California John, anxious to make a start at the hard climb, now said
good-bye and started back. Bob and Elliott, their pack horse following,
rode up the flat through which ran the river. They soon found the
meadow. It proved to be a beautiful spot, surrounded by cedars, warm
with the sun, bright with colour, alive with birds. A fringe of azaleas,
cottonwoods and quaking asps screened it completely from all that lay
outside its charmed circle. A cheerful blue sky spre