"No, not a cent. Just the same, if ever I get shuffled off all of a sudden--rollin' down one of these mountains, say--I want you to look there mighty careful. There may be a document or two of importance--letter to my old home, and all that." "I won't forget," Ben promised. "See that you don't." They shook hands again, lightly and happily. "So good-by, son, and--'_take keer of yerself_!'" The old man turned away, and soon his withered figure vanished into the thickets farther up the river. He was following a fairly well-worn moose trail, and he went swiftly. Soon he was out of hearing of the sound of the great river. Then the little woods people--marten and ermine and rodent and such other small forest creatures that--who can say?--might watch with exceeding interest the travelers on the trails, could have thought that old Ezram was already fatigued. He sat down beside a tree and drew a soiled sheet of paper from his pocket. Searching further he found then the stub of a pencil. Then he wrote. Having written he unlaced his boot on the right foot, folded the paper, and thrust it into the bootleg. Then, relacing the shoe, he arose and journeyed blithely on. IX On arriving in Snowy Gulch, Ben's first efforts were to inquire in regard to horses. Both pack and saddle animals, he learned, were to be hired of Sandy McClurg, the owner of the general store and leading citizen of the village; and at once he made his way to confer with him. "Most of my mustangs are rented out," the merchant informed him when they met in the rear of the general store, "but if you can get along with three, I guess I can fix you up. You can pack two of 'em, and ride the third." "Good enough," Ben agreed. "And after I once get in, I'd like to turn back two of them, and maybe all three--to save the hire and the bother of taking care of them. I suppose, after the fashion of cayuses, they'll leg it right home." "Just a little faster than a dog. Horses don't much care to grub their food out of them spruce forests. They're good plugs, so of course I don't want to rent 'em to any one who'll abuse 'em, or take 'em on too hard trips. Where are you heading, if the question's fair?" "Through Spruce Pass and down into the Yuga River." "Prospecting, eh? There's been quite a movement down that way lately, considering it never was anything but a pocket country. By starting early you can make it through in a day. And you said your name was--" "Darby. Ben Darby." The merchant opened his eyes. "Not the Ben Darby that took all the prizes at the meet at Lodge Pole--" Ben's rugged face lit with the brilliancy of his smile. "The same Darby," he admitted. "Well, well! I hope you'll excuse them remarks about abusing the horses. If I had known who you was, 'Wolf' Darby, I'd have known you knew how to take care of cayuses. Take 'em for as long as you want, or where you want. And when did you say you was going?" "First thing to-morrow."