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The hunter and the Little Giant vanished without noise, and Will waited a full hour before either returned. But he was not lonesome. The horses and mules rubbed their noses against him, and in the dark and the wilderness they made evident their feeling that he was the one who would guard them.

The noise of a light footstep sounded and the hunter, who had gone south, stood before him.

"It's good news I bring," said Boyd. "We're cut off to the south by a cliff that no one can climb, and it seems to run away toward the west for countless miles. The Sioux can't reach us from that direction. Ah, here is Tom! What has he to say?"

"What I hev to say is always important," replied the Little Giant, "but this time its importance is speshul. A couple o' miles to the north a great transverse pass runs out o' the main one, an' cuts off toward the west. It's deep an' steep an' I reckon it bars the way thar."

"That being the case, we're on a peninsula," said Boyd, "and this peninsula rises in the west toward very high mountains. I can see a white dome off in that direction."

"All these facts now bein' diskivered," said the Little Giant, "I think we've shook off them Sioux fur good, though thar ain't no tellin' when we'll run afoul another bunch. But we'll take the good things the moment hez give us, an' look fur what we need, wood, water an' grass."

"Wood we have all about us," said Will. "Water is bound to be plentiful in these forested mountains, and we may strike grass by daylight."

They began an advance, making it very cautious, owing to the extremely rough nature of the country, and all their caution was needed, as they had to cross several ravines, and the ground was so broken that a misstep at any time might have proved serious. In this manner they made several miles and the general trend of the ground was a rapid ascent. Toward dawn they came to a brook flowing very fast, and they found its waters almost as cold as ice. Will judged it to be a glacial stream issuing from the great white dome, now plainly visible, though far ahead.

A short distance beyond the stream they found an open space with grass for the animals, and very glad, too, they were to reach it, as they were shaken by their immense exertions and the hard trail in the dark.

"This valley jest had to be here," said the Little Giant, "'cause we couldn't hev stood goin' on any more. The hosses an' mules theirselves are too tired to eat, but they will begin croppin' afore long."

"And it's so cold up here I think we'd better light a fire and have warm food," said Boyd. "We can smother the smoke, and anyway it will pay us to run the risk."

It was a task soon done, and long before breakfast was finished the horses and mules were peacefully grazing. Will then took his rifle and examined the country himself in some detail, going as far as the great precipice on the south. It was not a gulch or ravine, but the ground dropped down suddenly three or four hundred feet. Beyond that the forest extended as before.

The view to the west was magnificent and majestic beyond description. Up, up rose the slope, cliff on cliff and the imperial white dome beyond! That way, too, apparently, they had to go, as they were cut off by the precipices on all other sides, and at the moment Will felt no particular sorrow because of it. The gold had taken a second place in his mind, and with these two wise and brave comrades of his he would penetrate the great mysteries of the west. The southward turn into the plains, following the diagram of the map, could wait.

When he returned to the camp he found the animals still grazing and his comrades sitting by the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of coals.

"I don't see anything for us to do except to go straight on toward the great snow mountain," he said.

"That's about the same conclusion that Tom and I have come to," said Boyd. "We're likely to get up pretty high, where it's winter all the year 'round, but it's better than running into the hands of the Sioux, or any of the mountain tribes. I vote, though, that this army of three spend the rest of the day here, and since storms gather at any time on these uplands, we'd better build another wickiup."

"An' make brush shelters for the animals, too," said the Little Giant.

The wickiup was built and they arranged crude, but nevertheless excellent, protection for the horses, a precaution that was soon justified, as it began to rain the following night, and they had alternating rain, snow and sleet for two days and two nights. The animals were able to dig enough grass from under the snow for sustenance, but most of the time they spent in the shelter devised for them. When the fair weather returned and the snow melted, they left the second wickiup, resuming the ascent of the mighty slopes. They were all restored by their rest, and despite the elevation and the wildness they were able to find plenty of forage for the animals.

"We've got to be mighty partic'ler with them hosses an' mules," said the Little Giant, "'cause even ef we should reach the mine without 'em we're bound to hev 'em to pack out the gold fur us. I expect we'll hev to ketch an' train 'bout twenty wild hosses, too, ez we'll need 'em fur all the gold that I'm countin' on findin'. Didn't you say thar was that much, young William?"

"I didn't give the exact amount," replied the lad, "nor do I suppose anyone can tell from surface indications how much gold there is in a mine, but from the word my father brought we'll need the twenty wild horses and more."

"O' course we will. I knowed it afore you said it. I've hunted gold fifteen to twenty years without findin' a speck, an' so it stands to reason that when I do find it I'll find a mountain of it."

Although the slope rose steadily, the ground, for the present, was not much cut up, and they were able to ride in comfort. Much of the country was beautiful and parklike. While far below there were endless brown plains, here were great forests, without much undergrowth, and cold, clear streams, running down from the vast snowy dome that always loomed ahead, and that never seemed to come any nearer.

"How high would you say that peak wuz, young William?" asked the Little Giant. "You're an eddicated lad, an' I reckon you know 'bout these things."

"You give me too much credit," laughed Will in reply. "One has to have instruments with which to calculate the height of mountains, and I couldn't do it even if I had the instruments, but I should say from what I've heard about the country and the tales of explorers that the peak we're looking at is about 14,000 feet high."

"I've seen it once before, though from the south," said Boyd, "and I've also met an exploring geographer kind of fellow who had seen it and who told me it rose close on to three miles above the sea. Different Indian tribes have different names for it, but I don't remember any of 'em."

"I think I'll call it the White Dome," said Will, examining it for the hundredth time through his glasses. "From here it looks like a round mountain, though it may have another shape, of course, on the other three sides. It's a fine mountain and as it's the first time I ever saw it I'm going to call it my peak. The forest is heavy and green clear up to the snow line, and beyond that I think I see a vast glacier."

Two days later they made another stop in a sheltered valley through which ran a mountain torrent. The hunter and the Little Giant shot two mule deer and a mountain sheep, and they considered the addition to their larder very welcome, as they had been making large inroads on their stores. The weather, too, had grown so cold that they kept a fire burning both day and night. Far over their heads they heard a bitter wind of the mountains blowing, and when Will climbed out of the valley and turned his glasses toward the White Dome he could not see the peak, it was wrapped around so thoroughly by mists and vapors and falling snow.

They built the fire large and high on the second night, and as they sat around it they held a serious consultation. They feared incessant storms and blizzards if they rose to still higher levels, and attempted to pass around on the lofty slopes of the peak. It would, perhaps, be wiser to follow the torrent, and enter the plains below, braving the dangers of the Sioux.

"What good will the gold be to us if we're all froze to death under fifty feet o' snow?" asked the Little Giant.

"None at all," replied the hunter, "and it wouldn't be any good to us, either, if we was to slip down a precipice a thousand feet and fall on the rocks below."

Will shivered.

"I believe I'd rather be frozen to death in Tom's way," he said.

"Then I vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the gorge and hunt the plains. What say you, Will?"

"It seems the wise thing to do."

"And you, Giant?"

"Me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' I reckon ef we wuz to put it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'. Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey from the mountings."

They had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain, and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude overcoats with the hair inside. Now when they put them on they found them serviceable but heavy. At any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter.

Fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time, though the pace was very slow. At points where the gorge narrowed, they took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the stream.

When night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless whether or not it was seen by enemies. Then they roasted themselves before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece.

Only then did Will feel warmed thoroughly. The older men found a fairly level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out their fire. They told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and, wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the cliff. But the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human footprint. When the Little Giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he was of the same opinion.

"It's too faint, Jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a white man or a red man."

"We don't care to meet either. If it's a white man it may be an outlaw, horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to join us on this gold hunt. If it's Indians, they're enemies, no matter to what tribe they belong."

"An' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends."

CHAPTER VI
THE OUTLAW

When Will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. The air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a little more. Then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp now numbered four instead of three.

He stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. He, too, carried a fine repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. He wore a felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. A jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers, leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. Will saw the butt of a pistol and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket.

A strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more closely, his face also looked strange. It was that of a civilized human being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and yet it was not. The eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed green in the early dawn. Will judged that he was one who had become habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings oppressed him.

"Mr. Martin Felton, Will," said the hunter. "Mr. Felton, this is Mr. William Clarke, who is traveling with us."

Will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at Felton. Perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and strengthening it greatly. But when he glanced at the hunter and the Little Giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes.

"Traveling, young sir!" said Felton in a lightly ironic tone. "You seem to prefer paths of peril. I would not say that this is exactly a safe region for tourists."

Now Will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. He liked neither his tone nor his manner.

"It's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "But, as I take it, there is no more for me than there is for you."

"The lad has put it very well, Mr. Felton," said the hunter. "However much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no greater than yours are."

Felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at Will:

"You're right to ask the question, but I can say in answer that your dangers are greater than mine. I have no trouble with the Sioux. I don't think any Indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp."

"It was our information that they had declared war upon all white people who entered this country. How does it happen that you're immune?"

Felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile.

"I've been among the Sioux when they were not at war with us," he replied. "I've done them some good deeds. I've set a broken bone or two for them – I've a little surgical skill – and Mahpeyalute, whom we call Red Cloud, has assured me that no harm will ever be done to me. For that reason I'm wandering among these mountains and on the plains. I noticed on one of your horses picks, shovels and other mining implements, and I thought you might combine gold hunting with sight seeing. I'm something of a gold hunter myself and it occurred to me that we could combine forces. I've heard vaguely about a huge gold lead much farther west, and we four might make a strong party, able to reach it despite the Indian troubles."

The lad's heart beat the note of alarm and of hostility. Was it possible that this man knew anything of his father's great mine? He had to exchange only a few sentences with him to understand that he was not wanted as a fourth partner in the venture.

"Mr. Bent looks for gold casually," he replied, "but our main object is hunting and exploration. I doubt whether we'd want to take on anything else, though we thank you for your offer, Mr. Felton."

Felton did not seem at all disconcerted. He made upon Will the impression of persistency and of great strength, although the strength might be for evil.

"And so you don't think four are better than three," he said.

"That was not what I implied," replied Will. "What I meant to say was that our party was made up. Isn't that the way you feel about it, Mr. Boyd?"

"My feelings to a T," replied the hunter.

"And yours, Mr. Bent?"

"You express my state o' mind to perfection, young William. Mr. Felton is the finest gentleman we hev met in the mountings since we met that band o' Sioux, but when a band is made up it's made up."

"Very well, gentlemen," said Felton, no anger showing in his tone. "I will not force myself upon anybody, but I'm no egotist, even if I do say you're the losers. My knowledge of the region and my friendship with the Sioux would be of great advantage to you, would be of so much advantage, in fact, that it would make me worth more than a fourth share in all the gold we might find. But, as I said, I will not stay where I'm not wanted. Good day!"

He strode away among the bushes, and for some distance they saw him descending the side of the mountain, to disappear at last in a forest of ash. Then the hunter and the Little Giant looked at each other significantly.

"We saw a footprint of his last night, Will," said Boyd, "but he came himself this morning, just at dawn. We can't quite make him out. Why does he talk of a great mine for which we're looking? Do you think your father ever mentioned it to anyone else?"

"Not that I ever heard. It must be only a guess, based on the sight of the Little Giant's tools. Did you ever see or hear of this man before?"

"No, but I know he's no friend of ours. There are renegades and desperadoes in these mountains, who make friends with the Indians, and I judge he's one of that kind. I'm mighty sorry we've run across him. He may have a band of his own somewhere, or he may go straight to the Sioux with news of us."

"He suspects us of a great gold hunt, so great that we are ready to risk anything for it. He showed it."

"So he did, and in my opinion the band, that he almost certainly has, will undertake to follow us."

"I didn't like him the first minute I saw him," said the Little Giant. "The reason why I cannot tell, but I do not like thee, Mr. Felton. Haven't I heard a rhyme like that somewhere, young William?"

"Almost like it, Giant, and just like you, the first moment I laid eyes on him, I disliked him. I think he's a danger, a big danger, and so do both of you. I can tell it by the way you act. Now, what do you think we ought to do?"

"We're not to go down into the plains, that's sure," replied Boyd, "because then we'd run into Felton and his gang and maybe a band of Sioux also. There's only one thing open to us."

"Go back up the mountain?"

"That and nothing else. Felton will expect us to come on down, but we'll fool him by going the other way. There's always hiding in rough country and under the cover of great forests. In my opinion, we've both Indians and white men now to fight. We must meet their cunning united, and the nearer we get to Will's White Dome the safer we'll be."

"An' it's not so bad, after all!" exclaimed the Little Giant. "We'll go back and climb and climb till neither reds nor whites kin foller us."

"We'll have to go well above the snow line, and camp there awhile," said Boyd. "And if we were snowed in for a few weeks it wouldn't hurt, provided we find a well protected hollow. Then we'd be sure to shake off all pursuit."

"Come on, then," said Will, with enthusiasm. "It's the White Dome that offers us safety."

"The White Dome it is!" said the Little Giant, with energy.

They put back the packs and saddles and turned once more into the depths of the mountains, riding whenever it was possible, but when the way grew steep, leading the animals at the ends of the lariats. Will was rather glad, for many reasons, that they had abandoned the journey into the plains, as the gold mine, for the present at least, seemed scarcely a reality, and the vast peaks and ridges were far more interesting than the brown swells below, besides being safer. Moreover, the great White Dome loomed before him continually, and he had a certain pride in the thought that they would pass over its towering shoulder.

"I've been thinkin' mighty hard," said the Little Giant.

"Does it make your head ache much?" asked the hunter.

"Not in this case. It hurts sometimes, when I try to think forward, but not when I try to think back an' remember things. Then I've got somethin' to go on. I'm tryin' to rec'lect whether I ever met a feller who wuz ez unpleasant to my feelin's ez that thar Felton."

"I know I never did," said Will, with emphasis.

"Me neither," said the hunter. "I don't like men who wear velvet jackets with big brass buttons on 'em. Now I think the way is going to be pretty steep for a long distance, and I guess we'll have to walk. Lucky these horses and mules of ours are having so much experience in climbing mountains. They go up 'em like goats now."

Despite the skill of men and beasts as climbers they could not ascend at any great rate, although Will noticed that both his comrades were eager to get on. He fancied that the image of Felton was in their minds, just as it was in his, and the farther they advanced the more sinister became the memory of the velvet-coated intruder.

They passed out upon a great projecting, bald rock, where they paused for many long breaths, and Will, through his glasses, was able to see the brown plains far below, sweeping away in swell on swell until they died under a dim horizon. But the distance was so great that he could make out nothing on their surface.

Night found them on a ridge, where there was enough grass for the horses, and trees still grew, though much dwarfed and stunted. They kept close in the lee of the trees and did not build any fire, although it was very cold, so cold that the bearskin coats again formed a welcome addition to the blankets. Boyd said it would be best for them to keep watch, although little danger was anticipated. Still, they could not be too cautious, and Will, who insisted on mounting guard in his turn, was permitted to do so. The Little Giant kept the first watch and Will the second, beginning about midnight. Giant Tom, who awakened him for it, went almost instantly to sleep himself, and the lad was left alone.

He lay upon a rather wide shelf, with his two comrades only a few feet away, while the horses and mules were back of them, having withdrawn as much as they could into the stubbly pines and cedars in order to protect themselves from the cold wind. Will heard one of them stir now and then, or draw a deep breath like a sigh, but it merely formed an under note in the steady whistling of the wind, which at that height seemed to have an edge of ice, making him shiver in all his wrappings. Nevertheless, he watched as well as one might under such circumstances, feeling himself but a mote on the side of a great mountain in all the immensity of the wilderness.

Surely the hunter was right when he said there was little danger. He did not know from what point in so much blackness and loneliness could danger be apprehended, but he believed, nevertheless, that danger was near. The whistling of the bitter wind seemed to him sinister and threatening, and yet a wind was only a wind. It must be circumstances going before that had given it that threat. He knew the mind could be so prepared by events that it became a sensitive plate, receiving upon its surface impressions that were, in reality, warnings.

Stronger and shriller grew the wind, and stronger and shriller was its warning. He had been lying upon his side with his rifle thrust forward, and now he sat up. Some unknown sense within him had taken cognizance of a threatening note. Listening intently he heard only the wind, but the wind itself seemed always to bear a menace on its front.

He rose to his knees, and used all his powers of eye and ear. The animals did not stir, and the hunter and the Little Giant slept in deep peace. Yet Will's own pulses were beating hard. He began to denounce himself as one who took alarm because of the darkness and desolation, but it did not make his pulses grow quiet.

Still keeping his rifle ready for instant use, he crawled noiselessly toward the edge of the ledge, which was not more than twenty feet away. Half the distance, and he stopped suddenly, because his ears had distinctly brought to him a light sound, as if a pebble had fallen. Will was not a son of the wilderness by birth, but he was fast becoming one of its adopted children, making its ways second nature, and, when the light note of the falling pebble was registered upon his ear, he flattened himself upon the ground, thrusting forward a little the muzzle of his rifle. It is doubtful if the keen eyes of a trailing Indian could have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time as a second pebble might fall.

The second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind registered an impression. Something new and strange appeared upon its surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. At last it detached itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. The eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp, trying to separate it into details, and Will, unseen himself, was able to recognize the eyes and forehead of Felton. He could also trace the glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the morning.

He saw one hand steal up over the ledge. The other, holding a revolver, followed in an instant, and then the lad, knowing in his heart that treacherous and black murder was intended, threw up his own rifle and pulled the trigger. He fired practically at random, doubting that the bullet would hit, but there was the sound of an oath, of scraping feet and a thud, while the gorges and ravines of the mountain sent back the crack of the rifle in many echoes.

The hunter and the Little Giant were awake in a flash, but they did not spring to their feet. They were far too alert and experienced to expose themselves in such a manner, but they crawled forward, fully armed, and lay beside Will.

"What was it?" whispered Boyd.

"It was the man of the morning, Felton. He was about to pull himself up on the cliff. He had a pistol in one hand and he meant to murder us."

"I didn't see him, but I haven't the slightest doubt you are right. And of course he had men as black-hearted as himself with him. He wouldn't have dared such a thing alone. Don't you see it that way, Giant?"

"Thar's no other way to see it, Jim. Felton is the leader of a band, a heap wuss than the Sioux, but young William, here, has been smart 'nough to block his game."

"That is, it's blocked for the time. He's down there with his band, waiting for another chance at us. Now, Will, you slip back and see that the horses and mules are secure, that they can't break their lariats, when they get scared at the shooting that's going to happen mighty soon. Keep down on your hands and knees. Don't give 'em a chance to send a bullet at you in the dark."

The lad obeyed orders and found the animals now fairly quiet. They had stamped and reared somewhat at the sound of his shot, but their alarm had soon subsided. He went among them, stroking their noses and manes, showing all the power over animals that the hunter and the Little Giant had soon detected in him, and they signified their gladness at his presence. While he stroked them he whispered to them gently, speaking words of courage in their ears, but at the same time, he did not neglect to see that the lariats were fastened securely.

Then, confident that the animals would not fall into a panic no matter what happened, he went back and found that Boyd and Bent were creeping toward the edge of the cliff. Lying almost flat, he joined them, and the hunter explained their plan of battle.

"I take it that they're all on foot," he said, "and even so they can come only by the path we followed. It's too steep everywhere else for them to make a rush upon men armed as we are."

"An' we, hid here on the ledge, may get a chance to pick 'em off," said the Little Giant. "Look, the night's beginnin' to favor us. More stars are comin' out, an' it's lighter all along the mountain. Lend me them glasses o' yourn, young William."

Will passed them to him, and the man, who was now at the edge of the ledge, made a very minute examination of the slopes. Then he handed the glasses back to the lad, and pushed his rifle a little farther forward. Will, in the increasing light, caught a glimpse of his face, and he was startled by its look of deadly hate.

"You've seen one of them?" he said.

"Yes," replied the Little Giant. "He's a-layin' among the rocks on the other side o' that deep ravine, too fur away fur any ordinary bullet, but ef thar's one thing I'm proud of it's my rifle shootin'. I hate to do it, but they've come here to murder us an' we've got to teach 'em it's dang'rous business."

Will, putting the glasses to his own eyes, was able to pick out the man whom the Little Giant had seen. It was not Felton, but a fellow in deerskins who crouched in fancied security in a sort of shallow alcove of the cliff. Will regarded him as one already dead, and his opinion was only a moment or two before fact, as the Little Giant pulled the trigger of his great repeating rifle, the mountain burst into many echoes, and the brigand, rolling from his alcove, fell like a stone into the depths of the chasm. Will, listening in awe, heard his body strike far below. Then came a terrible silence, in which his heart beat heavily.

"It was a great shot, Giant," whispered Boyd, at length, "but you make no other kind. It wasn't Felton, was it?"

"No."

"I didn't think it would be. After Will gave the alarm I knew he'd keep well out of sight. His kind when they're leaders always do. You've given 'em a hint, Giant, that they can't pass this way, the kind of hint that means most with brigands."

"But two hints will be better than one, Jim," said Tom. "I'm thinkin' they're still down thar 'mong the rocks, hopin' to pick us off when we ain't watchin'. But we'll be watchin' all the time. In an hour mebbe we'll get a chance to tell 'em a second time they can't pass, an' then I think we'd better light out afore day."

"So do I. Will, take your glasses and keep searching among the rocks."

The lad, who saw that he could now serve best as the eyes of the little army of three, picked out every crag and hollow with the glasses, but he did not find any human beings. A half hour later several shots were fired from distant points by concealed marksmen, and Will heard the bullets chipping on the stones, although none of them struck near. Evidently the rifles had been discharged almost at random. Meanwhile, the number of stars in the heavens increased and new peaks and ridges swam into the light.