CHAPTER XLIV.
THE OLD TRAIL
"… Those whose hearts and souls are big enough to follow the trail that is nobody knows how old."
Leaving the ridge just beyond the low gap, Dan made his way down the mountain side into the deep ravine, below Sammy's Lookout, that opens into the hollow.
For an hour he roamed about, his mind upon his plans for the development of the wealth that lay in the heart of the mountain. After a time, still intent upon his work, he scrambled up the end of the little canyon, regained the ridge near the mouth of the cave, then climbed up on the steep slope of Dewey to the top. From here he could follow with his eye a possible route for the spur that should leave the railroad on Garber to the east, round the base of the mountain and reach the mine through the little ravine on the west.
From the top he made his way slowly toward the Lookout, thinking from there to gain still another view of the scene of his proposed operations and to watch the trail for the coming of his mother.
Drawing near the great ledge of rock that hangs so like a cornice on the mountain side, he caught a glimpse—through the screen of trees and bushes—of a figure seated on the old familiar spot. His mother must have come sooner than she intended, he thought, or else he had been longer than he realized. He looked at his watch; it was early yet. Then going on a little, he suddenly stopped—that was not his mother! He drew nearer and pushed aside a bush for a better view.
His heart leaped at sight of the familiar blue dress and its white trimming! The figure turned slightly as if to look up the trail. The big fellow on the mountain side trembled.
"How like," he whispered half aloud, "God, how like—"
Softly as one fearing to dispel a welcome illusion he drew nearer—nearer—nearer. Suddenly a dry bush on the ground snapped under his foot. She turned her face quickly toward him.