“And where in the world did you come from?” Reynolds asked in reply, as he unslung his pack and tossed it aside.  “I never expected to meet you here.”

“Ye didn’t, eh?  Wall, ye never want to be surprised at anything I do.  I’m here to-day an’ somewhere else to-morrow.  I’m allus on the move, rovin’ from place to place.  It’s me nature, I guess.”

“A rolling stone gathers no moss, so I’ve heard.  Is that the way with you?” Reynolds asked, with a twinkle to his eyes.

“I may git no moss, young man, an’ not become a fossil like some of the fellers in big cities, but I git a heap of rubbin’ with me rollin’, an’ that keeps me brightened up.”

“But how did you get here ahead of me?” Reynolds questioned.  “You were not on the steamer, and I am certain you didn’t walk.”

Samson drew the grouse from the fire, and examined it critically.  Finding it not done to his satisfaction, he thrust it back again.

“Jist hand me that fryin’-pan, will ye?” and he motioned to his left.  “I want it handy when the bird’s cooked.  Ye didn’t expect to find a supper here to-night, young man, did ye?” and he looked quizzically at Reynolds.

“Indeed I didn’t,” was the emphatic reply.

“Neither did ye imagine that it ’ud be a grouse’s bones ye’d be pickin’.  Why, it’s no tellin’ where that bird was three days ago.  It may have been fifty miles or more away, fer all we know.  But it’s here now, isn’t it?”

“It looks very much like it,” and Reynolds laughed.

“Wall, that’s jist the way with many other things.  It’s allus the unexpected that happens, an’ thar are surprises on every trail, as ye’ll larn if ye haven’t done so already.  Meetin’ me here is one of ‘em, an’ my movements are jist as unsartin an’ mysterious as were them of that bird which is now sizzlin’ over this fire.”

“But with not such an unhappy ending, I hope,” and again Reynolds smiled.

The prospector’s eyes twinkled as he drew the bird from the fire, and laid it carefully in the frying-pan.

“Guess it’s done all right this time,” he remarked.  “Now fer supper.  I’m most starved.”

Reynolds was hungry, and he did full justice to the meal.  Samson had some excellent sour-dough bread of which he was very proud.

“Made it last night,” he explained, “an’ it turned out better’n usual.  Thought mebbe I’d have company before long.”

“Did you meet the others?” Reynolds asked.

“Oh, yes, I met ’em,” Samson chuckled.

“Were they far ahead?”

“Y’ bet, an’ chatterin’ like a bunch of monkeys.  Guess they’re thar by now.”

“Were they surprised to see you?”

“H’m, they didn’t see me.  I was settin’ under a tree well out of sight.  I didn’t want to meet that crowd; they’re not to my likin’.  I jist wished to see if Curly was along.”

“You seem to be keepin’ a sharp eye on that fellow still,” Reynolds remarked.  He was anxious to draw the prospector out.  Perhaps he might learn something about Curly’s acquaintance with Glen.