"Hello, Sol," welcomed Terry. They sat up in their blankets. A horseman approached along the back trail, and halted. He was a lean, well-built man, with long hair and full beard, and sat erect upon a small but active horse. He wore a peaked, silver-bound sombrero or Mexican hat, a black velvet Mexican jacket half revealed under a gaily striped blanket over his shoulders, tight black velvet trousers slashed with a white strip, and on his heels jingling spurs. The saddle was enormous, and the bridle jingly and silver-mounted. But he was no Mexican; he was Sol Judy, the American horse-trader, who had been in California and on the plains, and was counted as almost the very first friend made by Terry and his mother when they had started in to "ranch it," a year ago, while waiting for Mr. Richards to come home. And a very good friend Sol Judy had remained. "How's the Pike's Peak Limited by this time?" he queried, with a smile, as he sat looking down. "On the way to the elephant, are you, and as snug as a bug in a rug?" "'Light, 'light," bade Harry. "Have a cup of coffee, Sol. Wait till I put on my pants." "No, no; thank you," declined Sol. "I've eaten and I'm going on through." It seemed as though Sol was always bound somewhere else. "I passed the ranch and stopped off a minute, and they told me you'd gone. So I knew I'd probably catch you. I'm on my way, myself." "To the mines, Sol?" "Yes, sir-ee. Just got back; been in Leavenworth a short spell, and am headed west again, for more of the elephant." "What elephant?" Sol laughed. "The big show. 'Seeing the elephant,' they call it, now, when they set out for the Pike's Peak diggin's--because there are folks who don't believe there is any such critter." "Did you see him, Sol?" "Well, you know we've seen a goose-quill or two containing a few freckles from his hide." "What trail's the best?" queried Harry. "I went out by the Santy Fee Trail and came back by the Platte government trail. But those are too long for you. I hear tell a lot of people are going to try the trail straight west, up the Smoky Hill. If I were you, though, I wouldn't tackle that. The water peters out. You'd do better to cut northwest from Riley or Junction City, over the divide between the Solomon and the Republican, and strike the Republican. Jones and Russell, the Leavenworth freighters, are going to put on a line of stages by that route, and they know what they're about. They've surveyed a route already, and I shouldn't wonder if you'd find some of their stakes. Anyway, the stages'll overtake you, and then you'll have their tracks and stations. On the divide you'll keep to the high ground and head the creeks and save a lot of trouble. Always travel high; that's my notion. The fellows that try to follow the brush river-bottoms are the ones who get stuck. You may have to make one or two dry marches, but you can keep your water cask full." "What's doing out at the mines, Sol?"