But their fears proved causeless, for the pursuit of the wild-man's trail had carried Chicot's party to one side of that left by the deserters, and that they were so close at hand was unknown to the emigrants. And after a short time the gold-hunters saw their late comrades turn and retrace their steps, evidently returning to the wagon train, without thought of following the wounded man further after the startling exhibition he had given them of his prowess. Just before sunset they saw the wild-man return apparently but little injured, and their doubts thus solved, soon after the trio took up their march toward the golden valley, where fortune awaited them. Neither noted the extreme care Jack Tyrrel observed in fixing their route upon his mind. Each rock, hill or valley was closely and thoroughly noted, so that he felt assured that he could find his way back, if needs be, in the darkest night. And find his way back he had resolved he would, sooner or later. "There!" at length muttered Duplin, pausing upon a high ridge and stretching one hand toward the valley below him. "Yonder, boys, lies our fortune!" The others did not speak. They stood eagerly gazing downward in the direction indicated, their eyes glowing, their faces flushed hotly, their frames quivering in every fiber. The gold-fever was upon them. And, as if infected by their excitement, Duplin lost his composure. With one accord they rushed headlong down the steep hillside and out upon the level ground. Then Duplin abruptly paused. "Comrades," and the words seemed to issue with difficulty, "_you are standing over a bed of gold_!" CHAPTER IV. MABEL GUILFORD. Returning to camp, Chicot's party found that the other bands had already returned without having discovered any thing. That night the body of the murdered man was buried, after an earnest discussion as to whether another day should be devoted to a search for the supposed criminals. Now that the first fervor had cooled down, the vote was almost unanimous to continue their journey, all fearing lest they should be caught by the winter storms in the mountains. So with the dawn of another day the wagon-train once more took up its due progress, toiling wearily along over the dreary trail, only cheered by the thought that each step taken was so much nearer to the fabulous heaps of pure gold that only awaited the gathering. For such were the wild visions that haunted even the most sensible, during that never-to-be-forgotten epidemic--the _gold-fever_. For two days they toiled on, without any event of moment to break the killing monotony. But then came a second blow, even more crushing than the one recorded in the preceding pages, because it left the wagon-train without a head--in much the same situation as a vessel would be on losing the only man capable of steering it aright.