"Me either. You don't see any signs of a spring along the road anywhere, do you, Mr. Harrison?" "No, and I wish I did, for the horses are pretty thirsty. But we ought to strike one soon." "With all that, this is easier than farming," went on Jed. "Don't be too sure of that," cautioned the old miner. "You haven't half begun yet." And it was not long after this that Jed changed his mind about thinking it was easy to hunt for gold. "That looks like a place where there was a spring," said Will, a little later, as they advanced around a turn in the road, and saw several horses, with men standing beside them, halted in the shade of a big tree. "Guess you're right," admitted Gabe, "We're in luck." It was a wayside spring, and the thirsty horses, scenting the water, hastened their pace. The gold-seekers found five men gathered around the drinking trough, into which the spring emptied through a wooden pipe. Four of the men were middle-aged, and one was quite young. They were all smoking, the older men using pipes, while the younger was rolling a cigarette with one hand, an operation at which he seemed quite adept. "Howdy, strangers," greeted Mr. Harrison genially, as he alighted from his horse. "How's the water?" "Nice and sweet," replied one of the men. "Come far?" "We've done forty miles to-day." "That's pretty good. Going far?" "Montana." "Montana?" exclaimed another man. "Why, that's where me and my pardner are bound. Going to the new fields?" Mr. Harrison nodded. There was no object in concealing their destination, for they would soon be in the midst of the rush that always takes place when new gold fields are discovered. "My name's Fred Hurd," went on the man who had last spoken. "This is my partner, John Curtin. We were in Nevada, but we went East to spend some of our money, and managed to get rid of most of it. Now we're going to new fields." "My name's Gabe Harrison," said the old miner, and he introduced the two boys, in the hearty and easy fashion that prevails in the West. The other three men also told their names. They were Ade Bryant, the young man who smoked cigarettes, and Tim Walsh and Bill Case. "Are you miners, too?" asked Jed, of the latter three. "Nope," replied Ade Bryant, with a pleasant smile. "We just got rid of a bunch of steers, and we're going back to our ranch in Montana. My father owns it. It's the Diamond T Ranch," he went on, giving the name of the brand marked on all the cattle from that ranch. "Probably you've heard of it?" The boys shook their heads. They had not heard much of outside matters in the quiet country village where they had lived nearly all their lives. "Is your father Colonel Jack Bryant?" asked Gabe suddenly. "That's him," replied the young man eagerly. "Do you know him?"