I met with an accident, and it's fortunate that I did, for when I reached this place yesterday I found that the stories of gold had leaked out, and already a well equipped party of more than thirty men had just landed here. To be exact, there are thirty-six of them; and owing to the absolute secrecy which they maintain regarding their destination, they are already known as the Mysterious Thirty-six. I have tried to induce two or three of them to talk, but they declared they knew no more about their plans than I did. Only their leader knows where they are going, and what they are to do. Now, I am perfectly convinced that these men are bound for the very spot I wrote you about, and we must get ahead of them, if we are to have the pick of the claims. They are camped now about three miles up the valley, waiting for a party of Indians who are to help them with their sleds. "It's fortunate I had to return to the coast, for you might not have realized the necessity of outstripping them. Besides that, I have cached most of my goods a hundred and forty miles up the trail, and come back empty-handed, so for that distance Long Peter and I can help you with your outfit, and we can give them a good race." "Won't that be fun?" cried Roly, excitedly. "I should just like to give them the slip!" David had a better idea of what it meant. "You won't feel so much like racing, I guess," said he, "after a few miles of it. But, Uncle," he added, "did you say you had cashed your goods? You haven't sold out, have you?" "Oh, no!" answered Uncle Will. "The word I used was 'cached,' which, in the language of the trail, signifies that I left my goods temporarily beside the way. A 'cache,' if we consider the French word 'cacher,' would mean goods concealed or covered up; but the idea of concealment is not prominent in the miner's use of the term, and in fact there is generally no attempt at concealment. It would be death in this country to be convicted of stealing such supplies, and few Indians or whites would venture to disturb them." "I understand now," said David, "and beg pardon for interrupting. And now what was the accident you mentioned?" Uncle Will took a few strong puffs on his pipe, and blew the smoke away in rings meditatively. Presently he proceeded. "I won't stop to tell you much about my journey, for you will soon pass over the same ground. Rainy Hollow, where I wrote the letter, is about sixty miles from here, near the summit of Chilkat Pass. I pushed on from that point through a grand mountainous country. Day after day I trudged through snowy valleys and over frozen rivers until I reached Dalton's trading-post, the location of which, about a hundred and twenty miles from the coast, you have doubtless noticed on the maps.