"No; there haven't many passed yet, that's certain," answered the
Fremonter. "But the rush must be about due."

"What camp's this?" he hailed, as they passed a party of miners delving
and washing in a little ravine.

"This is the Shirt-tail Diggin's, stranger, where everybody's happy and
the goose hangs high."

Shirt-tail Diggin's consisted of a collection of tents and of lean-to
shacks made of boughs and canvas, three or four log cabins, and a
store, scattered along the side of the valley, amidst great trees. To
the east showed the bluish gap, of which Mr. Grigsby had spoken, in the
hills, and beyond the hills was the snowy range. Through the valley
coursed the river--the North Branch of the American, according to Mr.
Grigsby; and in the river shallows and along the banks and in ravines
and ditches on both sides, up the slopes themselves, with pick and
spade and pan and cradle were working the miners.

As with his father and Mr. Grigsby and the burro he drew near, Charley
was surprised to hear a cheer--and another, and another, as if in
greeting. Why was that? Was it a joke? But see! Arms were pointing,
hats were waving, and shout joined with shout:

"Emigrants in sight! Here they come--the overlanders! Tumble out,
boys!"

XX

ANOTHER GREAT DISCOVERY

Sure enough! Following a trail out from among the timbered slopes to
the east, there emerged from the gap a white-topped wagon--and another,
and a succession of dots of other vehicles and of people horseback,
until a long line was winding down through the green and brown. Yes,
emigrants! Charley had seen such wagons, and even such a procession,
before, in Missouri; but this was different, because these wagons and
people had come clear across the 2,000 miles of plain and mountain and
desert, from the Missouri River! Think of that!

From their ditches and ravines out clambered the miners all, to wipe
their brows and gaze and cheer. And on weaved the line, until the
people afoot, also--even women, and some children--could be seen
trudging beside the wagons.

Riding at a walk, the horsemen who led the procession as if picking out
the trail approached slowly, while the camp waited. The nearer the
procession came, the worse for wear it looked: the white-topped wagons
(there were only a few) were torn and battered, the other vehicles were
only make-shifts, cut down from the originals, the horses, mules and
oxen were very thin, and the people the