"We're purty nigh onto the spot now, if I recollect right," said Joe; "it's over a year sence I was here. Let's eat our grub—here's a basin of water in this rock a purpose for us to drink out of; after we've rested a spell we'll push on and find the exact locality. Cur'us, isn't it?—I didn't dream, when I traveled over this mountain the last time, that so many thousand fools would have sot foot on it in less'n a year. We made up our minds, then, me and Jim did, thar' was gold in this region—and I ain't sartain but we're responsible for givin' the fever to a good many," added the little old fellow, with a quiet chuckle. "It's a mighty catchin' disease—took more easily than the small-pox. The wust of it is, I'm afraid it'll prove fatal to a good many of them poor, white-livered chaps as have come expecting to crowd their pockets with rocks as big as goose-eggs, all ready picked up. I reckon Wright's one of the wust-up of any. He ain't naterally got any pluck, and he's out o' money and vittals, and instid of workin' for hisself and makin' thirty or forty dollars a day, he's had to hire out for a dollar a day and keepin.' I'm sorry for his wife, poor critter. But she's got more sperit than he has, and 'll make more money. She's takin' in washin' and cookin' for the men, and airns a good lot, I'll be bound. I shouldn't wonder if she got along and laid up money—which he'll be sure to borrow and have 'the luck' to lose. Have some o' this dried buffalo, Wolfe?—it's better'n your cold bacon.
"I don't wonder that saller-faced Doctor is anxious to get Miss 'Lizabeth away from such a hole as Pike's Peak," continued Joe, who grew talkative over his dried meat and whisky and water, giving a keen side-look at his companion as he spoke. "'Tain't no place for the likes of her—eh, Nat, what do you think? They say he'll leave with the first company that starts back, and take her along. I've a mind to hire out as guide, and see 'em safely back as far as Nebraska City."
"I wish you would," was the hunter's brief reply.
"Why don't you undertake the job, Wolfe?"
"I'm afraid my company wouldn't be agreeable," with a bitter laugh.
"Sho! it's the first time I ever knowed of you playin' the sneak, Nat Wolfe."
"What do you mean?" rather fiercely.
"You needn't turn on me like a trod nettle, Nat. I wouldn't like to make you mad—cos we're alone out here in the woods and you're the biggest, and nobody'd ever know what had become of Buckskin Joe if you should chaw me up. But say, now, r'ally, I'll bet a thousand dollars, to be paid the day after we find our lead, that you hain't never asked that young lady whether she liked your comp'ny or not. Come, now, own up the corn."