The spot chosen by Yellow Pine for the camp of the mining party was by a dancing little brook which came down from the mountain to the right of them, and the path by which they travelled that day had barely kept them outside of the rocky slopes. Some coyotes came prowling around, to yelp over the faint smell of roasted meat that floated out to them from the camp-fires. Once during the night the cry of a wandering cougar came wailing through the silence and was followed by that of a horned owl who had noiselessly flapped near enough to blink his great eyes at the blaze. For all that, it was the loneliest kind of a place, and the hours went by until sunrise without the smallest real disturbance or hint of perils to come.
Judge Parks himself was on the watch in the first gray of dawn, and the camp was dim enough even after there were rosy tints upon the distant mountain summits. He stood gazing at these and leaning upon his rifle, when Yellow Pine walked out to take his customary survey of matters.
"We're going to have a fine day, jedge."
"Splendid weather. Pine, just think of all this magnificent country as it will be when it's settled. Farms, towns, villages, mines, railways, factories—"
"There won't be any game, then, or any red Indians, either."
"There isn't a finer country in all the world. The new time is coming, Pine."
"Of course it is. Our mine's coming first thing. We'll get there 'fore sundown. Wish I knew what else was coming."
"Afraid of anything?"
"Got a curious feeling in my back. Always have it when there's something up. It's as much like the rheumatiz as it is like anything."
"Guess that's what it is, then."