The "cayuse" bell sounded nearer and nearer, and directly from the dense forest a packhorse came stepping with care over the fallen logs, where the sign of a trail was yet dim to any eyes but those of a woodsman. A bell at its neck tinkled as it walked, and after it four others followed, all with heavy loads bound to their backs. It looked strange to see the patient animals thus walk without guide or driver through the dense timber of the mountains; but a little later voices were heard, and two horsemen came out of the shadows of the wood, and followed the horses upward along the bank of the river to where a little stream of fresh water tumbled down to the Kootenai. There a little camp was located, an insignificant gathering of tents, but one that meant a promising event to the country, for it was to be the connecting point of the boats that would one day float from the States on the river, and the railroad that would erelong lead westward over the trail from which the packhorses were bringing supplies. The sun was setting and all the ripples of the river shone red in its reflected light. Forests of pine loomed up black and shadowy above the shores; and there, higher up--up where the snow was, all tips of the river range were tinged a warm pink, and where the shadows lay, the lavender and faint purples drifted into each other, and bit by bit crowded the pink line higher and higher until it dared touch only the topmost peaks with its lingering kiss. Lyster halted to look over the wild beauty of the wilderness, and from the harmony of river and hills and sky his eyes turned to Overton. "You are right, Dan," he said, with an appreciative smile, a smile that opened his lips and showed how perfect the mouth was under the brown mustache--"you are right enough to keep close to all these beauties. You seem in some way to belong to them--not that you are so much 'a thing of beauty' yourself," and the smile widened a little; "but you have in you all the strength of the hills and the patience of the wilderness. You know what I mean." "Yes, I guess so," answered Overton. "You want some one to spout verses to or make love to, and there is no subject handy. I can make allowances for you, though. Those tendencies are apt to stick to a man for about a year after a trip to Southern California. I don't know whether it's the girls down there, or the wine that is accountable for it; but whatever it is, you have been back from there only three months. You've three-quarters of a year to run yet--maybe more; for I've a notion that you have a leaning in that direction even in your most sensible moments." "H'm! You must have made a trip to that wine country yourself sometime," observed Lyster. "Your theory suggests practice. Were there girls and wine there then?" "Plenty," returned Overton, briefly. "Come on. There's the cook shouting supper."