Jesse. "You can't see the track of anybody in here."

"No," said Uncle Dick, "no tin cans just yet, and we might as well
call ourselves the first, because we're traveling precisely as the
first men did who came through here. But I would like to ask you
whether you discovered anything this morning out of the way."

John and Jesse could not think of anything, but Rob hesitated. "I'll
tell you what," said he, "it seems to me there must have been more
than one trail up this valley. At least, I've seen two this morning."

"Precisely. The main trail ran lower down, below our camp. The other
trail which you noticed cut across a low place in this ridge back of
us. Now that trail runs right along the side of our little lake over
yonder. It passes back above that lake and heads off into the
mountains. It's as deep and broad as the other trail, but nobody seems
to know anything about it. It seems to strike in for the mountains
somewhere north of Yellowhead Pass. But where does it go? No one can
tell you. Is there another pass in there, north of Yellowhead? No one
can answer that. Perhaps the two trails meet somewhere between here
and the Yellowhead; but if so, no one has found where. That's a
mystery, isn't it? Some day, if I ever have time, I'm going to follow
out that trail and see where it goes.

"But come on," he concluded; "we'll go on over the ridge and see the
trail itself by the side of the lake."

They rose now and pushed on up to the top of their steep climb, and
soon passed into the dense growth of small pines which covered it.
Their leader pushed on ahead, calling to them to follow; and, although
the going was very difficult on account of burned timber and tangled
undergrowth, they passed on rapidly down the farther slope, until
presently they broke from the cover and stood at the edge of the
beautiful little mountain lake which lay green and mirrorlike, a mile
or so in extent, surrounded closely on all sides by the great mountain
walls.

"Well," said John, "it's a beauty, sure enough."

"It certainly is," said Jesse, "and no tin cans of worm fishermen
anywhere along here, either. It looks fishy, too."

"It certainly is fishy," smiled Uncle Dick; "or it was last year, when
I was in here. The trout don't run so very large, but they strike
well and they are mighty good to eat."

"What's this old hump we're on?" inquired Jesse, looking down
curiously at his feet. They were standing on a rude pile of poles and
s