c of daylight lifted its
dazzling crown above the horizon. The quiet of the morning was
perfect. It almost seemed as if Nature itself had hushed to an
expectant silence. The woe of the night-prowling coyote at the sight
of the dawn found no voice. The frogs upon the creek had not yet begun
their morning song. Even the camp dogs, whose ceaseless "yap" made
hideous all their waking hours, for some subtle reason moved about in
quest of their morning meal as though their success depended upon the
stealth of their movements.

Blear-eyed men appeared in their doorways half awake, and only just
recovering from their overnight orgy. They stood for some moments
voiceless and thoughtful. Then the concentration upon the store began.
It was strange to look upon. It was an almost simultaneous movement.
These half-dazed, wholly sick creatures moved with the precision of a
universally impelling force. The store might have been one huge
magnet--perhaps it was--and these dejected early risers mere atoms of
steel.

But the store reached, that wonderfully revivifying hair of the tail,
etc., partaken of, and a rapid change supervened. Quarts of coffee and
some trifling solid further stimulated jaded energies, and in less
than an hour the memory that the day was Wednesday, and that the
gold-stage was to set out upon its eventful journey, became the chief
thought in every mind. Curiosity and excitement ran riot, and
questions flew from lip to lip. How had Minky provided for the
safeguarding of his gold? Had he arranged for an adequate escort? To
whom was the gold to be entrusted?

The store was full of men. The veranda overflowed with them. There
were men of almost every nationality--from half-breed Mexicans,
popularly dubbed "gorl-durned Dagos," to the stolid Briton, the virile
New Yorker, the square-headed Teuton, the lithe, graceful prairie man
from the Southern States. But the usual noisy discussion of the
world's affairs, as viewed from the hidden valley in which lay
Suffering Creek, had no vital interest just now. And, after the first
rush of burning questions, a hush fell upon the assembly, and it
quickly composed itself, in various attitudes and positions of
advantage, to await, in what patience it could, the satisfying of its
curiosity.

Soon the hush became oppressive. It almost became a burden. Men
stirred uneasily under it; they chafed. And at last Joe Brand found
himself voicing something of the feelings of everybody. He s