I knew of several small streams below the town, alive with trout. I headed for the nearest one, the burro plodding patiently behind, silent, expectant. The smell of smoke, coffee, and other camp odors came up the trail to meet us. Soon we came abruptly in sight of two prospectors who were eating a belated breakfast. "Reckon you better have a bite with us," invited one of the men as he set the tin-can coffee pot upon the coals of their fire. "Thet thar burro bin a pesterin' you?" asked the second man, fixing the burro with a searching gaze. "Oh, no!" I denied, remembering my debt to the animal. "We put in the night together, and he even ate some of my hardtack this morning," I ended laughing. "He's the tarnationist critter, always a galavantin' roun', an' a gittin' inter somebody's grub." The burro chose to overlook these insults and drew near the fire, unostentatiously. The old prospector slipped him part of his breakfast. "Which way you headin'?" asked the first man, plainly puzzled because I carried neither gun nor mining tools. "To climb Arapahoe peak." "Climb the peak," he repeated, much mystified. "What's the idear?" the second wanted to know. "Goin' way off thar jes' to git up a mountain, when thar's plenty right hyar, higher ones too?" He indicated the ranges to the east. "Any place up that way to get out of the rain?" I asked, for the clouds were dropping again with the threat of gathering storm. The men exchanged glances. Abruptly the small one got to his feet and led the burro out of sight among the willows. The other man faced me. "Better take a friend's advice and keep outen there," he swept a grimy hand westward. "What's up?" "Better do your climbin' round hyar," he replied suggestively. "But I want to climb Arapahoe; I have heard the Indians used it for a signal mountain and..." He beckoned me to follow, and led the way into the grove mysteriously. At length he stopped, peered about uneasily, then whispered. "There's an ole cabin up yonder"--he faced toward Arapahoe--"that's ha'nted." "Haunted?" my interest quickening, my fears of the depressing night forgotten. He nodded--dead earnest. "Are you sure about that? Did you ever see the, the----" His look silenced me. "Ole feller died up thar," he declared; "nobody knows how." His tone was awesome. I made a move down the trail, thanking him for the meal. "Wouldn't go, if I wus you," he persisted, following me as far as his camp. Then, as I took the unused trail that led down toward North Park, he called after me: "Remember, I've warned you!"