Each one offered an opinion with regard to what sort of weather they might expect in the near future. In doing this they consulted the stars, together with the prevailing winds, and whether this last seemed to carry any moisture in its breath since that would indicate approaching rain or snow. It was the general belief that the prospect could be set down as uncertain. It might storm, or another fair day might speed them on their way; matters had not as yet developed far enough to settle this question. The silence that had accompanied the coming of the night no longer held sway. From time to time various sounds drifted to their ears to announce that the pine forest bordering the banks of the mysterious Yellowstone River were the haunts of many wild animals that left their dens, after the setting of the sun, for the purpose of roaming the wilderness in search of prey. Far in the distance they could occasionally hear, when the wind favored, the mad yelping of a pack of gray mountain wolves, undoubtedly on the track of a stag which they meant to have for their midnight supper, if pertinacity and savage pursuit could accomplish it. Closer at hand there came other sounds. Once the boys stopped speaking, and bent their heads to catch a repetition of a peculiar cry that would have sent a cold chill through any one unaccustomed to woods life. "That sounded like a painter to me, Dick!" ventured Roger, handling his gun, so as to make sure the weapon was within reach of his hand. Of course a "painter" meant a panther, for it was so called by nearly all back-woodsmen and pioneers of that day. And these two lads knew well what a fierce antagonist one of those great gray cats became when wounded, or ferociously hungry. "Yes, that was just what I thought," replied Dick; "but there isn't much chance he'll bother to pay us a visit to-night. The woods are big enough to give him all the hunting he wants, without trying to invade our camp." "There seems to be plenty of life in this valley of the Yellowstone River," the second boy continued, "and, even if Jasper Williams fails to find the Happy Hunting Grounds he is looking for, he might do lots worse than stay around here." "Yes, I am sure there must be lots of fur to be picked up, and we saw plenty of elk, you remember, Roger, as well as other food animals. From what we have learned, the Indians never come in this direction unless they are compelled to by a scarcity of game in other places." "All on account of their believing an Evil Spirit haunts the land," commented Roger. "As for myself, I think all those stories must be made up in the brains of foolish people. I would never believe one of them unless I saw the things with my own eyes." "We may know more about them before we finish this journey," Dick remarked complacently. "When you last examined the tracks left by Jasper Williams and his party, Benjamin, how old did you make them out to be?" inquired Roger of the guide.