One link of the mighty human chain lies before our eyes. For nearly a week this valley has sheltered them. While others pressed on in the road for the yellow delusion, this party had been lying motionless, longing for yet dreading the summons to resume their pilgrimage. A few hasty words will explain. This party of emigrants, numbering nearly one hundred souls, was under the command of Caleb Mitchell. He started from Eastern Ohio, in company with several of his neighbors, heading for the Land of Gold, taking with him his wife and daughter. Little by little the company grew to more respectable proportions, as stragglers joined it on the way, until now, as they entered the Foothills, they felt little fear of the red-skinned Ishmaelites of whom they had heard so many frightful tales. Nearly a week before our story opens, a sad accident occurred. A rifle, suspended by leather strings in Mitchell's wagon, by some means got discharged, its contents lodging in Mrs. Mitchell's breast. Since then she had been hovering between life and death. To continue their journey would be her certain death, and the kind-hearted emigrants would not abandon their leader in his distress, though each day of delay increased their danger of being overtaken by winter in the mountains. Thus for nearly a week they waited and watched. Slowly Mrs. Mitchell sunk, and now, on this day, her spirit took its departure. The daughter, Lottie, was the first to notice the presence of death, and it was her heart-broken wail that saluted the ears of the two young men, Burr Wythe and Paley Duplin. "It is all over!" muttered Duplin, drawing a long breath. "Poor girl--'twill just about kill her; she worshipped her mother," added Burr, his blue eyes winking rapidly. "It _is_ sad--but then, since it must be so, it's well that all is over. A long road lies before us, and the mountains must be crossed before the snow falls. The lives of all depend upon it." "Mitchell knows that. _He_ will not delay us any longer than is absolutely necessary. But come--there is work to do. We can help them." "Wait, Burr. I must see you to-night, alone. I have something of great importance to tell you. Meantime, look at this--but, remember, don't breathe a word of your suspicions. Keep it hid--at least until I say you may speak." The young man, Duplin, seemed strongly excited for one of his usual phlegm. As he spoke, he thrust a small article into Wythe's hand, and renewing his caution, glided hastily away. Wonderingly Burr bent over the stone--for such it seemed. But then a wild glow filled his eyes, lighting up his entire countenance, while his muscular form quivered like one under the influence of an ague-shock. "Is it--can it be _gold_?" he gasped, huskily.