"Which means they've talked enough and now they're traveling straight toward our valley. It's lucky they've got such rough country to cross before they reach us." Inside the two hours they were headed for the western end of the valley, the Little Giant riding one of his mules, the other following. The wickiup was abandoned, but they brought much of the jerked meat with them, thinking wisely of their commissariat. It was with genuine regret that Will looked back from his saddle upon Clarke Valley and Boyd Lake, shimmering and beautiful now in the opalescent sunshine. They had found peace and plenty there. It was a good place in which to live, if wild men would let one alone, and, loving solitude at times, he could have stayed there several weeks longer in perfect content. He caught the last gleam of the lake as they entered the pass. It had the deep sheen of melted silver, as the waters moved before the slow wind, and he sighed a little when a curve of the cliff cut it wholly from view. "Never mind, young William," said the Little Giant, "you'll see other lakes and other valleys as fine, an' this wouldn't look so beautiful, after all, tomorrow, filled with ragin' Sioux huntin' our ha'r right whar it grows, squar' on top o' our heads." Young Clarke laughed and threw off his melancholy. "You're right," he said briskly. "The lake wouldn't look very beautiful if a half dozen Sioux were shooting at me. You came through this pass, now tell us what kind of a place it is." "We ride along by the creek, an' sometimes the ledge is jest wide enough fur the horses an' mules. We go on that way four or five miles, provided we don't fall down the cliff into the creek an' bust ourselves apart. Then, ag'in, purvided we're still livin', we come out into a valley, narrow but steep, the water rushin' down it in rapids like somethin' mad. Then we keep on down the valley with our hosses lookin' ez ef they wuz walkin' on their heads, an' in four or five miles more, purvided, o' course, once more that we ain't been busted apart by falls, we come out into some woods. These woods are cut by gulleys an' ravines an' they have stony outcrops, but they'll look good by the side o' what you hev passed through." "Encouraging, Giant!" laughed Will. "But hard as all this will be for us to pass over, it will be just as hard for the Sioux, our pursuers." "Young William," said the Little Giant approvingly, "I like to hear you talk that way. It shows that you hev all the makin's o' them opty-mists, the bunch o' people to which I belong. I never heard that word till three or four years ago, when I wuz listenin' to a preacher in a minin' camp, an' it kinder appealed to me. So I reckoned I would try to live up to it an' make o' myself a real opty-mist. I been workin' hard at it ever sence, an' I think I'm qualifyin'."