all but
contemptuously replied,

"Them? Why, every soul on 'em's an old mountain man. Not a greenhorn or
a tenderfoot among 'em. You won't catch one on 'em a whimperin', not if
they die for it."

So there were other men besides red Indians who were able to suffer and
be silent, and Sile tried hard to be that kind of man; but long before
sunset he felt as if he were choking.

The mountains to the westward loomed up larger and less cloudily as the
worn-out teams were urged forward. The trail pointed steadily towards
them, and Yellow Pine unhesitatingly asserted that they were on the
right track.

"No mistake about it, jedge. It ain't no common cross-prairie trail.
It's one of their old migration tracks. They've been a treadin' of it
sence the year one."

The "year one" was a good while ago, but a good deal of hard tramping,
by many bisons, year after year, had been required to make that ancient
cattle-path. No grass had grown upon it for nobody could guess how many
generations, and it was likely to be in the way of ploughing whenever
that plain should be turned into farming-land.

The greatest care was taken of the animals, those in the traces being
taken out and changed frequently, and at last all the riders dismounted
and led their horses. Yellow Pine every now and then went around and
examined to see how things were looking, and Sile went with him.

"They'll stan' it, every critter of 'em," he said, repeatedly. "They're
all good stock; good condition. I picked 'em out."

"Your mare is the ugliest in the lot," said Sile, recklessly.

"Best though. Out-walk, out-run, and out-starve any critter in the
outfit, 'cepting me."

"Can you out-travel a horse?"

"Course I can--most horses. I don't know 'bout the old mare. She can
out-travel anything. She's good tempered, too; knows just when it's the
right time to kick and break things. Oh but can't she tear, though!"

He looked at her affectionately, as if her very temper were one of her
virtues, and she glanced back at him, showing the whites of her eyes in
a way that indicated anything but a placid mind.

"She's always riley when she doesn't get plenty to drink," said Pine,
"but she hasn't kicked once in all this. Knows it isn't any fault of
mine. We'll git there, old lady. Don't you go off the handle."

Another hour and the mountains were very tall, and looked cool, and
seemed to promise all sorts of things.

"The mines we are after are in among 'em," said