“Here’s some of the stuff any way,” said Black Tom, after he had lifted a lot in his hand and carefully scrutinized it. “Yes; thar’s no mistake ’bout _that_,” replied old Stebbins. “We kin begin work right here, and make more in a day, than in a week by trapping. So, what do yer say? Do we resoom?” “In the mornin’; we’ll take a sleep on it.” Gathering up their implements, they started on their return. By the time they were fairly in the cañon again it was fully dark, and, walled in as they were on either hand by such high, rocky cliffs, the darkness became so profound that they could scarcely see a step before them. But they remembered the route too well to go astray, and they moved cautiously but unhesitatingly forward in the direction of the cavern that they had selected for their home, while at work in this region. At the upper end of the cañon, indeed before it narrowed enough really to deserve the name, there was a mass of trees and undergrowth, through which the three hunters were making their way, when Black Tom uttered his low, sudden “’sh!” of alarm. The others paused and listened, and looked around to learn the cause of this signal of their companion. Like the faint twinkle of a star low down in the horizon, the three caught the glimmer of a camp-fire in this mass of vegetation and undergrowth. “I knowed thar war others ’bout,” said Black Tom, after a moment’s pause; “whether they’re red or white-skins, we can’t tell till we find out.” “Let’s do it,” said old Stebbins, and simultaneously the three set out toward the point of light, moving in the stealthy, silent manner that had become almost a second nature to them; but they had not gone far when Tom paused and said: “Go ahead and l’arn what yer can, and I’ll go down to the cavern and wait for ye. Thar’s no need of all of us goin’ there.” The trapper moved away from them as he spoke, not waiting to hear their opinions; and, as each party met with a curious adventure very shortly after, we will proceed to give them in detail. CHAPTER VI. BLACK TOM’S ADVENTURE. Old Stebbins and Teddy O’Doherty crawled carefully over the rocks and bowlders until they were near enough to gain an unobstructed view of the camp-fire, when they paused, somewhat astonished. Instead of seeing Blackfeet Indians or miners, as they expected, they descried a single man reclining before the fire, gazing dreamily into the embers, as though lost in reverie. He held a long, beautiful rifle in easy grasp, but there were no signs of any meal in preparation, or of any thing that was likely to engage his attention. He was dressed in a sort of sportsman’s costume, with his pants thrust into high, well-fitting boots, and he was unquestionably handsome, with fine, regular features, although the lower part of his face was concealed by a luxuriant auburn beard.