They traveled steadily the live-long day, barely making a halt at noon to bait their horses and refresh themselves with a cold lunch. They were now getting among the branches of the Pecatonica, a stream which flowed eastward to feed the larger Rock River. The country had lost its prairie character and become rough and broken. But the four sped on, sometimes down open ravines, again through narrow defiles, where they were hard put to dodge the projecting and interwoven branches.
The next morning, the nature of the landscape remained much the same. Their progress, however, was made miserable by a light, but steady, rain that set in soon after daylight. Their only recourse was to wrap their blankets about their shoulders, bend low in their saddles and forge grimly onward. Not so much as a single human habitation was seen. Neither Indian lodge nor white cabin broke the unending solitude. It was the vast, primeval wilderness, unspoiled as the day of Creation.
Suddenly however, about mid-day, a glad shout came from Bill Brown, who was leading the little procession.
“Hooray, boys!” he cried, “a fence, a fence!”
With new life in their wet, tired bodies they spurred on. Presently the crowing of a cock saluted their ears; and following the rail fence down a slope they came upon a group of log cabins, low, shabby and unpromising; but a welcome shelter from the pelting rain that was now driving in from the northeast with increasing violence.
“What place is this?” called Brown, to a man who came out from one of the cabins.
“Hamilton’s Diggings,” was the reply; and with the ready hospitality of the border he stepped forward at once to guide them to a shed, where he assisted in putting up their horses.
Afterward, he took them to the largest and most comfortable looking of the cabins. A bright little fire was burning in the fireplace, and they were cheered by its grateful warmth, chilled as they were from their long hours in the drizzling rain. Their guide then left them, saying that he would summon their host.
Forthwith, a man of medium stature, stout and well-built, with abrupt, active movements, entered the cabin, greeting them in the most agreeable manner.
“I am Captain William S. Hamilton,” said he, “proprietor of these diggings. I am happy to offer you the shelter of my cabins.”