“Isn’t this a glorious spot!” exclaimed Tom, throwing himself down beside the path.
The ground was clear for a little way in front of them, and just beyond lay the Silver Bow Basin, narrowing and winding far up among the mountains. On every side the forest-clad slopes rose in grand sweeps from the Basin, and curls of smoke here and there floated up from camps hidden among the trees.
“What’s that noise?” asked Fred, as a metallic clicking not far away fell upon their ears.
“Oh! thar’s always somebody prospectin’ raound with his pick,” remarked the hunter. “You’ll hear ’em all over the maountings, pretty much.”
Close beside them a stream of crystal clear water rushed over its stony bed, across the path toward the valley. The boys unfastened their dippers and drank deeply.
“Have some salmon berries?” asked Solomon. And he threw down a branch of the orange-colored fruit he had just broken off.
“Naow,” he said, after a few moments’ silence, “we must take to the woods. I gave ye that leetle piece of rough travelin’ to kinder harden ye fer what was comin’. Are ye ready, boys?”
“All ready!” they cried, springing to their feet. “Lead the way, Solomon!”
The hunter now left the beaten path and followed up the bed of the stream, which crossed it at right angles. It was hard climbing, and the boys had to stop for frequent rests. Their tramp proceeded, however, without special incident for a couple of hours more, when Baranov threw down his pack and called out “Breakfast.”