"Do you know those two fellows who have just left, Thompson?" "You bet I don't; and I made 'em put up the collateral for the whole outfit before they got away." "Where did you say they were going?" "Didn't say, did I? But somewheres up Jackfoot Gulch was what they told me." "H'm; that is east. And just now they are riding in another direction. You sold them the horses, you say?" The man grinned. "Temp'rarily. I'll take 'em back at the same price, less the tariff, if I ever see 'em again. I ain't takin' no chances on stray strangers with any such lookin'-glass-bustin' faces as they've got. Not much, Mary Ann." "It is well to be careful. Have you seen my man Donald since dinner?" "Yes; he was here just now and said he'd be back again. Want him?" Denby looked at his watch. "Yes. If he doesn't come back within five minutes, send some of the boys out to hunt him up. Tell him to outfit for himself and me for two days, and to be at the hotel at three, sharp. Give him the best horses you can lay your hands on." "Always yours to command, Mr. Denby. Anything else?" "That's all." The promoter left the stable and walked quickly to the hotel. At the entrance he met an acquaintance and stopped to pass the time of day. "How are you, Roberts?--By the way, you are just the man I wanted to see; saves me a trip to the Court House. Did a fellow named Jeffard, J-e-f-f-a-r-d, file a notice and affidavit on a claim called the 'Midas' just after dinner?" "No. He came over to ask me if there was any way in which he could secure himself. It seems that he neglected to post a notice on the claim before coming out with his samples,--why, he didn't explain." Denby nodded and went on, talking to himself. "So!--that's his little mystery, is it? The 'Midas' isn't located yet, and until he gets that notice posted and recorded, it's anybody's bonanza. I hope Donald can pick up the trail and follow it. If he can't, there'll be one plucky fellow less in the world, and two more thugs to be hanged, later on." CHAPTER XX A TOPOGRAPHICAL map of that portion of the Saguache known as the Elk Mountain Range--the spur which forms the watershed between the Gunnison and the Grand--will include a primeval valley gashing the range southeastward from Tourtelotte on the Ashcroft trail, and heading fifteen miles farther wildernessward in a windswept pass across the summit of the watershed. Its watercourse, a tumbling torrent fed by the melting snows in the higher gulches, is a tributary of the Roaring Fork; and a disused pack-trail, which once served a scattered pioneer corps of prospectors, climbs by tortuous stages to the windswept pass, now swerving from bank to bank of the stream, and now heading a lateral gulch or crossing the point of a barrier spur.