might get into scrapes there, as Our Fellows got
into with Pete, the half-breed, or with Luke Redman of the Swamp
Dragoons, but there was always a prospect of their coming out alive.

On the morning of the next day a start was made as early as it was light
enough to see, Elam leading the horse and Tom following close behind
him. The most of their way led through the gully, and to Tom's delight
there was hardly any snow on the way; nor was there any game, although
they kept a bright lookout for it. They camped for two nights in the
foot-hills, Elam working his way in and out of the gullies, never once
stopping and never once getting into a pocket. On the last morning they
ate every bit of the corn bread and bacon.

"They aint far off now," said Elam. "About noon we'll be among friends.
You will find two boys there just about your size who will give you more
insight into this life than I ever could. You see they know what you
want to talk about."

After proceeding about a mile of their journey Elam stopped, placed his
hand to his mouth, and gave a perfect imitation of a coyote's yell. If
Tom had not seen him do it he would have thought there was a wolf close
upon them. A little further on he gave another, and this time there was
an answer, faint and far off, but still there was something about it
that did not sound just like a coyote.

"They're there," said Elam. "I would know that yell among a thousand.
It's Carlos Burton."

"Who is he? You never mentioned him before."

"Well, he is a sharp one. He came out here long after I did, and had
sense enough to go to herding cattle, while here I am and haven't got
anything except the clothes I stand in. It's all on account of that
nugget, too. If the robbers had stolen it and got well away with it I
might have been in the same fix. Well, it's all in a lifetime."

"I should think you would give it up," said Tom. "You go working after
it day after day--why, you must have been after it fourteen years."

"Shall I give it up when I've got the map of it right here?" said Elam,
tapping his ditty-bag, which was hung across his chest under his shirt.
"I am nearer to it now than I have been before, and you had better talk
to those who have made fun of me all these years. 'Oh, Elam's a crank;
let him alone, and when he gets tired looking for the nugget he'll come
to his senses and go to herding cattle.' That's what the folks around
here have had to say about me ever since I can re