California John led them sharp to the right, however, and in a few moments they emerged to cheerful sunlight, alders, young pines among the old, a leaping flashing stream of some size, and multitudes of birds, squirrels, insects and butterflies.

“There’s a meadow, and a good camping place just up-stream,” said he.  “It’s easy riding.  You’d better spread your blankets there.  Now, here’s the corner to 34.  We reestablished it four years ago, so as to have something to go by in this country.  You can find your way about from there.  That bold cliff of rock you see just through the trees there you can climb.  From the top you can make out the lookout.  If you’re wanted at headquarters we’ll hang out a signal.  That will save a hard ride down.  Let’s see; how long you got grub for?”

“I guess there’s enough to last us ten days or so,” replied Elliott.

“Well, if you keep down this stream until you strike a big bald slide rock, you’ll run into an old trail that takes you to the Flats.  It’s pretty old, and it ain’t blazed, but you can make it out if you’ll sort of keep track of the country.  It ain’t been used for years.”

California John, anxious to make a start at the hard climb, now said good-bye and started back.  Bob and Elliott, their pack horse following, rode up the flat through which ran the river.  They soon found the meadow.  It proved to be a beautiful spot, surrounded by cedars, warm with the sun, bright with colour, alive with birds.  A fringe of azaleas, cottonwoods and quaking asps screened it completely from all that lay outside its charmed circle.  A cheerful blue sky spread its canopy overhead.  Here Bob and Elliott turned loose their horses and made their camp.  After lunch they lay on their backs and smoked.  Through a notch in the trees showed a very white mountain against a very blue sky.  The sun warmed them gratefully.  Birds sang.  Squirrels scampered.  Their horses stood dozing, ears and head down-drooped, eyes half-closed, one hind leg tucked up.

“Confound it!” cried Elliott suddenly, following his unspoken thought.  “I feel like a bad little boy stealing jam!  By night I’ll be scared.  If those woods over behind that screen aren’t full of large, dignified gods that disapprove of me being so cheerful and contented and light-minded and frivolous, I miss my guess!”

“Same here!” said Bob with, a short laugh.  “Let’s get busy.”

They started out that very afternoon from the corner California John had showed them.  It took all that day and most of the following to define and blaze the boundaries of the first tract they intended to estimate.  In the accomplishment of this they found nothing out of the ordinary; but when they began to move forward across the forty, they were soon brought to a halt by the unexpected.

“Look here!” Bob shouted to his companion; “here’s a brand new corner away off the line.”

Elliott came over.  Bob showed him a stake set neatly in a pile of rocks.