ing. It was a
good thing to do, and when Sile Parks awoke and stretched himself, he
felt as if he also wanted to be fed and rubbed down. Almost everybody
else was already astir, and breakfast was soon ready for him.

Yellow Pine did a deal of exploring, before and after he breakfasted,
and Sile at once set out to imitate him. He asked some question or other
of every one he saw, and believed that he had learned a great deal. At
last he came to a heap of stones and bushes that seemed to him to have
been piled up remarkably.

"How could they ever have got there?" he said, as he began to pull upon
a bush with green leaves yet clinging to its twigs. In five minutes more
he knew where the Nez Perces had made their hasty "cache" for their
lodges and other treasures, and he went at once to report it to his
father and to Yellow Pine. The latter looked at Sile with positive
respect, and exclaimed,

"There now, jedge; that settles it. I know I'm right; them Indians had
lost their ponies. I couldn't find a hoof-mark on their trail this
morning; they dragged some lodge-poles along, though. I say, we must
leave their cache jest as we found it. We must foller right along, too,
or we'll run short of fodder. They've taken my old road. We needn't be
afraid of 'em, only we'd best keep a sharp lookout."

Horses and mules and all felt as if a day's rest would be as good as a
treat; but after all was said and done it was decided to keep moving.
The start made was not an early one, and there was work for all hands
here and there. The herds of bisons had not prepared that road for the
passage of wagon wheels, and it needed the axe in one place and the
crow-bar in another before the teams could pass. There was no sort of
danger that the Nez Perces would be caught up with by the mining-party,
and Yellow Pine seemed to breathe more freely at the end of every mile.

"No, jedge," he said; "we won't have to leave the outfit anywhere.
There'll be a heap of hard work at some spots, but we can make our way
through, and we can come and go by this track forever after it's well
opened."

Sile Parks learned a great deal that day about the mysteries of
road-making; he also learned how much a really well-built wagon will
stand if it is not too heavily loaded. For all that, however, the best
part of his time was expended in staring at the peaks, and in searching
the walls of the canon for traces of gold and silver ore.

"Father," said he at last, at a