gait, a wild, jolting, desperate pace,
that made the wind pant in our lungs like bellows, and jarred our bones
in their sockets. Through brush and scrub timber we burst. Thorny vines
tore at us detainingly, swampy niggerheads impeded us; but the
excitement of the stampede was in our blood, and we plunged down
gulches, floundered over marshes, climbed steep ridges and crashed
through dense masses of underwood.

"Throw away your blankets, boys," said the Prodigal. "Just keep a little
grub. Eldorado was staked on a stampede. Maybe we're in on another
Eldorado. We must connect with that bunch if we break our necks."

It was hours after when we overtook them, about a dozen men, all in the
maddest hurry, and casting behind them glances of furtive apprehension.
When they saw us they were hugely surprised. Ribwood was one of the
party.

"Hello," he says roughly; "any more coming after you boys?"

"Don't see them," said the Prodigal breathlessly. "We spied you and
cottoned on to what was up, so we made a fierce hike to get in on it.
Gee, I'm all tuckered out."

"All right, get in line. I guess there's lots for us all. You're in on a
good thing, all right. Come along."

So off we started again. The leader was going like one possessed. We
blundered on behind. We were on the other side of the divide looking
into another vast valley. What a magnificent country it was! What a
great manoeuvring-ground it would make for an army! What splendid
open spaces, and round smooth hills, and dimly blue valleys, and silvery
winding creeks! It was veritably a park of the Gods, and enclosing it
was the monstrous, corrugated palisade of the Rockies.

But there was small time to look around. On we went in the same mad,
heart-breaking hurry, mile after mile, hour after hour.

"This is going to be a banner creek, boys," the whisper ran down the
line. "We're in luck. We'll all be Klondike Kings yet."

Cheering, wasn't it? So on we went, hotter than ever, content to follow
the man of iron who was guiding us to the virgin treasure.

We had been pounding along all night, up hill and down dale. The sun
rose, the dawn blossomed, the dew dried on the blueberry; it was
morning. Still we kept up our fierce gait. Would our leader never come
to his destination? By what roundabout route was he guiding us? The sun
climbed up in the blue sky, the heat quivered; it was noon. We panted as
we pelted on, parched and weary, faint and footsore. The excitement