Again saluting us, Don Gaspar and his companion withdrew a short distance up the little meadow. There the Spaniard sat down beneath a bush and proceeded to smoke a cigaretto, while his companion unsaddled the horses, turned them loose to graze, stacked up their saddles, and made simple camping arrangements. "Old Plush Pants doesn't intend to do any work if he catches sight of it first," observed Johnny. "Probably the other man is a servant?" I suggested. "More likely a sort of dependent," amended Johnny. "They run a kind of patriarchal establishment, I've been told." "Don't use them big words, Johnny," complained Yank, coming up with the horses. "I meant they make the poor relations and kid brothers do the hustling," said Johnny. "Now I understand you," said Yank. "I wish I could see what _they_ do with their hosses nights. I bet they know how. And if I was a hoss thief, I'd surely take a long chance for that chestnut gelding." "You might wander over later and find out," I suggested. "And get my system full of lead--sure," said Yank. The two camps did not exchange visits. We caught the flicker of their little fire; but we were really too tired to be curious, and we turned in early, our two animals tied fast to small trees at our feet. The next day lifted us into the mountains. Big green peaks across which hung a bluish haze showed themselves between the hills. The latter were more precipitous; and the brush had now given way to pines of better size and quality than those seen lower down. The river foamed over rapids or ran darkling in pools and stretches. Along the roadside, rarely, we came upon rough-looking log cabins, or shacks of canvas, or tents. The owners were not at home. We thought them miners; but in the light of subsequent knowledge I believe that unlikely--the diggings were farther in. We came upon the diggings quite suddenly. The trail ran around the corner of a hill; and there they were below us! In the wide, dry stream bottom perhaps fifty men were working busily, like a lot of ants. Some were picking away at the surface of the ground, others had dug themselves down waist deep, and stooped and rose like legless bodies. Others had disappeared below ground, and showed occasionally only as shovel blades. From so far above the scene was very lively and animated, for each was working like a beaver, and the red shirts made gay little spots of colour. On the hillside clung a few white tents and log cabins; but the main town itself, we later discovered, as well as the larger diggings, lay around the bend and upstream. We looked all about us for some path leading down to the river, but could find none; so perforce we had to continue on along the trail. Thus we entered the camp of Hangman's Gulch; for if it had been otherwise I am sure we would have located promptly where we had seen those red-shirted men.