The mountains to the westward loomed up larger and less cloudily as the worn-out teams were urged forward. The trail pointed steadily towards them, and Yellow Pine unhesitatingly asserted that they were on the right track. "No mistake about it, jedge. It ain't no common cross-prairie trail. It's one of their old migration tracks. They've been a treadin' of it sence the year one." The "year one" was a good while ago, but a good deal of hard tramping, by many bisons, year after year, had been required to make that ancient cattle-path. No grass had grown upon it for nobody could guess how many generations, and it was likely to be in the way of ploughing whenever that plain should be turned into farming-land. The greatest care was taken of the animals, those in the traces being taken out and changed frequently, and at last all the riders dismounted and led their horses. Yellow Pine every now and then went around and examined to see how things were looking, and Sile went with him. "They'll stan' it, every critter of 'em," he said, repeatedly. "They're all good stock; good condition. I picked 'em out." "Your mare is the ugliest in the lot," said Sile, recklessly. "Best though. Out-walk, out-run, and out-starve any critter in the outfit, 'cepting me." "Can you out-travel a horse?" "Course I can--most horses. I don't know 'bout the old mare. She can out-travel anything. She's good tempered, too; knows just when it's the right time to kick and break things. Oh but can't she tear, though!" He looked at her affectionately, as if her very temper were one of her virtues, and she glanced back at him, showing the whites of her eyes in a way that indicated anything but a placid mind. "She's always riley when she doesn't get plenty to drink," said Pine, "but she hasn't kicked once in all this. Knows it isn't any fault of mine. We'll git there, old lady. Don't you go off the handle." Another hour and the mountains were very tall, and looked cool, and seemed to promise all sorts of things. "The mines we are after are in among 'em," said Judge Parks to his son. "Our trip across the plains has been a quick one; all the quicker for this push." "Hope there'll be a good spring of water right in the edge of them," said Sile, but his voice was huskier than ever and he was struggling against a feeling of faintness. "Poor fellow!" said the judge to himself. "I mustn't say too much to him. It's an awful time for me." So it was, for every now and then the thought would come to him, "What if, after all, we should not find water when we get there?" The sun sank lower and lower, and now at last Yellow Pine stood still and leaned against his mare, pointing forward. "Jedge! Jedge--there they are!" "What is it, Pine?" The judge could hardly speak, and Sile had such a ringing in his ears that he could hardly hear, but Yellow Pine gasped out,