In his younger years Mr. Wallace had been considerable of a sportsman, taking his holidays each fall in a camping trip to the Canada bush, where he hunted the moose in a primitive wilderness.
Of late he had not taken any such trips, and his health had suffered in consequence, which helped to bring about this present outing.
The coyotes were as noisy as ever that night. Besides, Lanky heard a new and more thrilling sound, with which he was making his first acquaintance. Jerry told them it was the long-drawl howl of the big gray timber wolf, savage creatures that traveled in packs, and when beset by hunger seldom hesitated to attack a lone hunter.
"If yuh find yuhself beset by sech a pack o' varmints," was the sage advice of the veteran range rider and hunter, "don't keer a picayune 'bout showin' the white feather. If so be thar's a tree handy, shin up it like a streak. Then take yuh pick o' the pesky wolves an' knock 'em over in a row."
"I tried fighting a pack once," observed Zander, with a grimace. "Got the marks of them fangs on my legs and arms to this day. I'd have gone under to boot, only a storm broke and a terrific peal of thunder and a blinking flash of lightning as a tree was struck close by scared the graycoats off and gave me a chance to climb a tree."
With the coming of morning the journey was resumed, and the rising sun saw them almost half-way to the base of the foothills that served as an advance guard to the mountains themselves.
It was just nine by Frank's wrist watch when they arrived. Jerry showed them a trail that led over the range of hills to a canyon zigzagging up the great divide, it having once been the bed of a mighty torrent.
By noon they were fairly over the ridge. Beyond lay a small valley, and Jerry was able to locate and point out the canyon he expected to utilize in climbing to the plateau where Gold Fork lay. The place, they understood, was now the picture of desolation, with tumble-down shanties and stores marking it as a long since abandoned mining camp, where an alluring boomlet bubble had burst, to disappoint and ruin hundreds.
The ponies were somewhat winded after that stiff climb, so when the ride was continued they took their time in making the descent.
"Shucks! two to one we've got to lay over in this washbowl of a valley," grumbled Lanky, "and won't get to the old camp till to-morrow night."