Wade needed meat, and to that end, as he went on, he kept a sharp lookout for deer, especially after he espied fresh tracks crossing the trail.  Slipping along ahead of his horses, that followed, him almost too closely to permit of his noiseless approach to game, he hunted all the way down to the great open park without getting a shot.

This park was miles across and miles long, covered with tall, waving grass, and it had straggling arms that led off into the surrounding belt of timber.  It sloped gently toward the center, where a round, green acreage of grass gave promise of water.  Wade rode toward this, keeping somewhat to the right, as he wanted to camp at the edge of the woods.  Soon he rode out beyond one of the projecting peninsulas of forest to find the park spreading wider in that direction.  He saw horses grazing with elk, and far down at the notch, where evidently the park had outlet in a narrow valley, he espied the black, hump-shaped, shaggy forms of buffalo.  They bobbed off out of sight.  Then the elk saw or scented him, and they trotted away, the antlered bulls ahead of the cows.  Wade wondered if the horses were wild.  They showed great interest, but no fear.  Beyond them was a rising piece of ground, covered with pine, and it appeared to stand aloft from the forest on the far side as well as upon that by which he was approaching.  Riding a mile or so farther he ascertained that this bit of wooded ground resembled an island in a lake.  Presently he saw smoke arising above the treetops.

A tiny brook welled out of the green center of the park and meandered around to pass near the island of pines.  Wade saw unmistakable signs of prospecting along this brook, and farther down, where he crossed it, he found tracks made that day.

The elevated plot of ground appeared to be several acres in extent, covered with small-sized pines, and at the far edge there was a little log cabin.  Wade expected to surprise a lone prospector at his evening meal.  As he rode up a dog ran out of the cabin, barking furiously.  A man, dressed in fringed buckskin, followed.  He was tall, and had long, iron-gray hair over his shoulders.  His bronzed and weather-beaten face was a mass of fine wrinkles where the grizzled hair did not hide them, and his shining, red countenance proclaimed an honest, fearless spirit.

“Howdy, stranger!” he called, as Wade halted several rods distant.  His greeting was not welcome, but it was civil.  His keen scrutiny, however, attested to more than his speech.

“Evenin’, friend,” replied Wade.  “Might I throw my pack here?”

“Sure.  Get down,” answered the other.  “I calkilate I never seen you in these diggin’s.”

“No.  I’m Bent Wade, an’ on my way to White Slides to work for Belllounds.”

“Glad to meet you.  I’m new hereabouts, myself, but I know Belllounds.  My name’s Lewis.  I was jest cookin’ grub.  An’ it’ll burn, too, if I don’t rustle.  Turn your hosses loose an’ come in.”