"When we strike the Republican we'll find plenty company," asserted Harry. "This _is_ getting rather lonesome, I must confess." Not a moving object was in sight. The "Pike's Peak Post Office" tree stood here all by itself, as if waiting for the stages. And yet, Terry well knew (unless the sights at Manhattan had been a dream), north and south of them thousands of people were trooping, trooping westward in long, human rivers of creaking wagons. He and Harry gave a last look behind and on either side, searching the brushy expanse for other outfits; then they left the friendly cottonwood and headed westward again, in the tracks of the wagon before. But suddenly Harry stopped. "Pshaw! We forgot." And he limped hastily back to the tree. With his pencil he wrote on it. Of course! Terry returned to see. "The Pike's Peak Limited. April 20, 1859. All well," announced this latest inscription. "Somebody will read it," quoth Harry. "It'll show we got this far ourselves." And they returned, better satisfied, to the cart. "There's one thing sure," continued Harry: "The less company we have, the more fuel and forage we'll find. We're getting into the buffalo country, too. See?" For the surface of the ground was cut deeply by narrow trails like cattle trails, but made by buffalo wending probably from water to water. Some of the trails had been freshly trodden. "That means we'll have to look sharp after Duke and Jenny," warned Terry. They proceeded. "Well, here come a party," remarked Harry. "But they're going the wrong way." "Maybe it's some of the stage line surveyors." The party, of three men, two of them horseback and one of them muleback, drew on at trot and rapid walk. The men were bearded, roughly dressed, and well armed with revolvers and rifles. Meeting the Pike's Peak Limited, they halted. So Harry and Terry halted. "Howdy?" "Howdy yourselves. Where you bound?" "For the land of gold," cheerfully answered Harry. "Land o' nothin'!" rebuffed the spokesman of the party. "Turn back, turn back, 'fore you starve to death." "Why? Are you from the Pike's Peak mines?" "We're from the Cherry Creek diggin's, young feller, but we didn't see any mines there nor nowheres else. It's all a fake, and we're on our way to tell the people so and save 'em their bacon." "Aren't you bringing any gold?" exclaimed Terry. "Have you been there long?" "Long! Gold!" And he turned his pocket inside out. "That's the size of your elephant. We've been there since last November, sonny, and the gold is in your eye. That Pike's Peak craze is the biggest hoax ever invented. It's just a scheme of a few rascals to sell off town lots. They want to get people to come out yonder; and gold is the only thing that'll persuade 'em into the barrenest, porest country on the face of the 'arth. We've been thar, so we know. We couldn't get out, in the winter; but everybody's leavin' now, to tell the folks along all the trails to face back and go home."