"Then I vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the gorge and hunt the plains. What say you, Will?" "It seems the wise thing to do." "And you, Giant?" "Me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' I reckon ef we wuz to put it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'. Tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey from the mountings." They had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain, and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude overcoats with the hair inside. Now when they put them on they found them serviceable but heavy. At any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter. Fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time, though the pace was very slow. At points where the gorge narrowed, they took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the stream. When night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless whether or not it was seen by enemies. Then they roasted themselves before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece. Only then did Will feel warmed thoroughly. The older men found a fairly level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out their fire. They told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and, wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the cliff. But the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human footprint. When the Little Giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he was of the same opinion. "It's too faint, Jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a white man or a red man." "We don't care to meet either. If it's a white man it may be an outlaw, horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to join us on this gold hunt. If it's Indians, they're enemies, no matter to what tribe they belong." "An' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends." CHAPTER VI THE OUTLAW When Will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. The air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a little more. Then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp now numbered four instead of three.