Wedidnotmakethirty-fivemilesthatday，noryettwenty-five，forhehadletmesleep。Wemadeanearlycampandtriedsomeunsuccessfulfishing，overwhichhewascheerful，promisingtroutto-morrowwhenweshouldbehigheramongthemountains。Heneveragaintouchedorcamenearthesubjectthatwasonhismind，butwhileIsatwritingmydiary，hewentofftohishorseMonte，andIcouldhearthatheoccasionallytalkedtothatfriend。
NextdayweswungsouthwardfromwhatisknowntomanyastheConanttrail，andheadedforthatshortcutthroughtheTetonswhichisknowntobutafew。BitchCreekwasthenameofthestreamwenowfollowed，andheretherewassuchgoodfishingthatweidled；andthehorsesandIatleastenjoyedourselves。Fortheyfoundfreshpasturesandshadeinthenowplentifulwoods；
andthemountainodorsandthemountainheightswereenoughformewhenthefishrefusedtorise。Thisroadofoursnowbecametheroadwhichthepursuithadtakenbeforethecapture。Goingalong，Inoticedthefootprintsofmanyhoofs，rain-blurredbutrecent，andthesewerethetracksofthepeopleIhadmetinthestable。
“YoucannoticeMonte’s，“saidtheVirginian。“Heistheonlyonethathashishindfeetshod。There’sseveraltrailsfromthispointdowntowherewehavecomefrom。“
Wemountednowoveralongslantofrock，smoothandofwideextentAboveusitwentupeasilyintoalittlesidecanyon，butahead，whereourwaywas，itgrewsosteepthatwegotoffandledourhorses。Thisbroughtustothenexthigherlevelofthemountain，aspaceofsagebrushmoreopen，wheretherain-washedtracksappearedagaininthesofterground。
“Someonehasbeenheresincetherain，“IcalledtotheVirginian，whowasstillontherock，walkingupbehindthepackhorses。
“Sincetherain！“heexclaimed。“That’snottwodaysyet。“Hecameandexaminedthefootprints。“Amanandahawss，“hesaid，frowning。“Goingthesamewayweare。Howdidhecometopassus，andusnotseehim？“
“Oneoftheothertrails，“Iremindedhim。
“Yes，butthere’snotmanythatknowsthem。Theyareprettyroughtrails。“
“Worsethanthisonewe’retaking？“
“Notmuch；onlyhowdoeshecometoknowanyofthem？Andwhydon’thetaketheConanttrailthat’sopenandeasyandnotmuchlonger？Onemanandahawss。Idon’tseewhoheisorwhathewantshere。“
“Probablyaprospector，“Isuggested。
“Onlyoneoutfitofprospectorshaseverbeenhere，andtheyclaimedtherewasnomineral-bearingrockintheseparts。“
Wegotbackintooursaddleswiththemysteryunsolved。TotheVirginianitwasagreaterone，apparently，thantome；whyshouldonehavetoaccountforeverystraytravellerinthemountains？
“That’squeer，too，“saidtheVirginian。Hewasnowridinginfrontofme，andhestopped，lookingdownatthetrail。“Don’tyounotice？“
Itdidnotstrikeme。
“Why，hekeepswalkingbesidehishawss；hedon’tgetonhim。“
Nowwe，ofcourse，hadmountedatthebeginningofthebettertrailafterthesteeprock，andthatwasquitehalfamileback。
Still，Ihadanaturalexplanation。“He’sleadingapackhorse。
He’sapoortrapper，andwalks。“
“Packhorsesain’tusuallyshodbeforeandbehind，“saidtheVirginian；andslidingtothegroundhetouchedthefootprints。
“Theyarenotfourhoursold，“saidhe。“Thisbank’sinshadowbyoneo’clock，andthesunhasnotcookedthemdusty。“
Wecontinuedonourway；andalthoughitseemednoveryparticularthingtomethatamanshouldchoosetowalkandleadhishorseforawhile，——Ioftendidsotolimbermymuscles，——neverthelessIbegantocatchtheVirginian’suncertainfeelingaboutthistravellerwhosestepshadappearedonourpathinmid-journey，asifhehadalightedfromthemid-air，andtoremindmyselfthathehadcomeoverthegreatfaceofrockfromanothertrailandthusjoinedus，andthatindigenttrappersaretobefoundowningbutasinglehorseandleadinghimwiththeirbelongingsthroughthedeepestsolitudesofthemountains——noneofthisquitebroughtbacktomethecomfortwhichhadbeenminesinceweleftthecottonwoodsoutofsightdownintheplain。
HenceIcalledoutsharply，“What’sthematternow？“whentheVirginiansuddenlystoppedhishorseagain。
Helookeddownatthetrail，andthenheveryslowlyturnedroundinhissaddleandstaredbacksteadilyatme。“There’stwoofthem，“hesaid。
“Twowhat？“
“Idon’tknow。“
“Youmustknowwhetherit’stwohorsesortwomen，“Isaid，almostangrily。
Buttothishemadenoanswer，sittingquitestillonhishorseandcontemplatingtheground。Thesilencewasfasteningonmelikeaspell，andIspurredmyhorseimpatientlyforwardtoseeformyself。Thefootprintsoftwomenwerethereinthetrail。
“Whatdoyousaytothat？“saidtheVirginian。“Kindofridiculous，ain’tit？“
“Veryquaint，“Ianswered，gropingfortheexplanation。Therewasnorockheretowalkoverandstepfromintothesoftertrail。
Thesesecondstepscamemoreoutoftheairthanthefirst。Andmybrainplayedmetheeviltrickofshowingmeadeadmaninagrayflannelshirt。
“It’stwo，yousee，travellingwithonehawss，andtheytaketurnsridinghim。“
“Why，ofcourse！“Iexclaimed；andwewentalongforafewpaces。
“Thereyouare，“saidtheVirginian，asthetrailprovedhimright。“Numberonehasgoton。MyGod，what’sthat？“
Atacrashinginthewoodsveryclosetouswebothflungroundandcaughtsightofavanishingelk。
Itleftusconfronted，smilingalittle，andsoundingeachotherwithoureyes。“Well，wedidn’tneedhimformeat，“saidtheVirginian。
“Aspike-horn，wasn’tit？“saidI。
“Yes，justaspike-horn。“
Forawhilenowaswerodewekeptupacheerfulconversationaboutelk。Wewonderedifweshouldmeetmanymoreclosetothetraillikethis；butitwasnotlongbeforeo’erwordsdiedaway。
Wehadcomeintoaveritablegulfofmountainpeaks，sharpattheirbaresummitsliketeeth，holdingfieldsofsnowlonerdown，andglitteringstillinfulldayupthere，whiledownamongourpinesandparkstheafternoonwasgrowingsombre。Allthewhilethefreshhoofprintsofthehorseandthefreshfootprintsofthemanprecededus。Inthetrees，andintheopens，acrossthelevels，andupthesteeps，theywerethere。Andsotheywerenotfourhoursold！Weretheysomuch？Mightwenot，roundsometurn，comeuponthemakersofthem？Ibegantowatchforthis。Andagainmybrainplayedmeaneviltrick，againstwhichIfoundmyselfactuallyreasoningthus:iftheytookturnsriding，thenwalkingmusttirethemasitdidmeoranyman。Andbesides，therewasahorse。WithsuchthoughtsIcombatedthefancythatthosefootprintswerebeingmadeimmediatelyinfrontofusallthewhile，andthattheyweretheonlysignofanypresencewhichoureyescouldsee。Butmyfancyovercamemythoughts。ItwasshameonlywhichheldmefromaskingthisquestionoftheVirginian:HadonehorseservedinbothcasesofJusticedownatthecottonwoods？Iwonderedaboutthis。Onehorse——orhadthestranglingnoosesdraggedtwosaddlesemptyatthesamesignal？
Mostlikely；andthereforethesepeopleuphere——WasIgoingbacktothenursery？Ibroughtmyselfupshort。AndItoldmyselftobesteady；therelurkedinthisbrain-processwhichwasgoingonbeneathmyreasonathreatworsethanthechildishapprehensionsitcreated。IremindedmyselfthatIwasamangrown，twenty-fiveyearsold，andthatImustnotmerelyseemlikeone，butfeellikeone。“You’renotafraidofthedark，Isuppose？“ThisI
utteredaloud，unwittingly。
“What’sthat？“
Istarted；butitwasonlytheVirginianbehindme。“Oh，nothing。
Theairisgettingcolderuphere。“
Ihadpresentlyagreatrelief。Wecametoaplacewhereagainthistrailmountedsoabruptlythatweoncemoregotofftoleadourhorses。Solikewisehadourpredecessorsdone；andasI
watchedthetwodifferentsetsofFootprints，Iobservedsomethingandhastenedtospeakofit。
“Onemanismuchheavierthantheother。“
“IwashopingI’dnothavetotellyouthat，“saidtheVirginian。
“You’realwaysaheadofme！Well，stillmyeducationisprogressing。“
“Why，yes。You’llequalanInjunifyoukeepon。“
Itwasgoodtobefacetious；andIsmiledtomyselfasItrudgedupward。Wecameoffthesteepplace，leavingthecanyonbeneathus，andtooktohorseback。Andasweproceededoverthefinalgentleslantuptotherimofthegreatbasinthatwassetamongthepeaks，theVirginianwasjocularoncemore。
“Poundshasgoton，“saidhe，“andOuncesiswalking。“
Iglancedovermyshoulderathim，andhenoddedashefixedtheweather-beatencrimsonhandkerchiefroundhisneck。Thenhethrewastoneatapackanimalthatwasdelayingonthetrail。“Damnyourbuckskinhide，“hedrawled。“Youcanviewthesceneryfromthetop。“
Hewassonatural，sittinglooseinthesaddle，andcursinginhisgentlevoice，thatIlaughedtothinkwhatvisionsIhadbeenharboring。Thetwodeadmenridingonehorsethroughthemountainsvanished，andIcamebacktoeveryday。
“Doyouthinkwe’llcatchupwiththosepeople？“Iasked。
“Notlikely。They’retravellingaboutthesamegaitweare。“
“Ouncesoughttobethebestwalker。“
“Uphill，yes。ButPoundswillgodowna-foggin’。“
Wegainedtherimofthebasin。Itlaybelowus，agreatcupofcountry，——rocks，woods，opens，andstreams。Thetallpeaksroselikespiresaroundit，magnificentandbareinthelastofthesun；andwesurveyedthisupperworld，lettingouranimalsgetbreath。Ourbleak，crumbledrimranlikearampartbetweenthetoweringtops，ahalfcircleoffivemilesorsix，verywideinsomeparts，andinsomeshrinkingtoascantyfoothold，ashere。
Hereourtrailcrossedoveritbetweentwoerodedandfantasticshapesofstone，likemushrooms，ormisshapenheadsonpikes。
Banksofsnowspreaduphereagainsttheblackrocks，buthalfanhourwouldseeusdescendedtothegreenandthewoods。Ilookeddown，bothofuslookeddown，butourforerunnerswerenotthere。
“They’llbecampingsomewhereinthisbasin，though，“saidtheVirginian，staringatthedarkpines。“Theyhavenotcomethistrailbyaccident。“
Acoldlittlewindblewdownbetweenourstoneshapes，andupwardagain，eddying。Androundacornerupwardwithitcameflutteringaleafofnewspaper，andcaughtagainstanedgeclosetome。
“What’sthelatest？“inquiredtheVirginianfromhishorse。ForI
haddismounted，andhadpickeduptheleaf。
“Seemstobeinter-esting，“Inextheardhimsay。“Can’tyoutellamanwhat’smakingyoureyesbugoutso？“
“Yes，“myvoicerepliedtohim，anditsoundedlikesomestrangerspeakinglightlynearby；“oh，yes！Decidedlyinteresting。“Myvoicemimickedhispronunciation。“It’squitethelatest，I
imagine。Youhadbetterreadityourself。“AndIhandedittohimwithasmile，watchinghiscountenance，whilemybrainfeltasifcloudswererushingthroughit。
Isawhiseyesquietlyruntheheadingsover“Well？“heinquired，afterscanningitonbothsides。“Idon’tseemtocatchtheexcitement。FremontCountyisgoingtoholdelections。IseetheyclaimJake——“
“It’smine，“Icuthimoff。“Myownpaper。Thosearemypencilmarks。“
Idonotthinkthatamicroscopecouldhavediscernedachangeinhisface。“Oh，“hecommented，holdingthepaper，andfixingitwithacriticaleye。“YoumeanthisistheoneyoulentSteve，andhewantedtogivemetogivebacktoyou。Andsothemareyourownmarks。“Foramomentmorehehelditjudicially，asI
haveseenmenholdacontractuponwhosetermstheywerefinallypassing。“Well，youhavegotitbacknow，anyway。“Andhehandedittome。
“Onlyapieceofit！“Iexclaimed，alwayslightly。AndasItookitfromhimhishandchancedtotouchmine。Itwascoldasice。
“Theyain’tthroughreadin’therest，“heexplainedeasily。
“Don’tyouthrowitaway！Afterthey’vetakensuchtrouble。“
“That’strue，“Ianswered。“Iwonderifit’sPoundsorOuncesI’mindebtedto。“
Thuswemadefurthermerrimentaswerodedownintothegreatbasin。Beforeus，thehorseandboottracksshowedplaininthesoftsloughwheremeltedsnowranhalftheday。
“Ifit’sapaperchase，“saidtheVirginian，“they’lldropnomorealonghere。“
“Unlessitgetsdark，“saidI。
“We’llcampbeforethat。Maybewe’llseetheirfire。“
Wedidnotseetheirfire。Wedescendedinthechillsilence，whilethemushroomrocksgrewfarandthesombrewoodsapproached。Byastreamwegotoffwheretwobanksshelteredus；
forableakwindcutdownoverthecragsnowandthen，makingthepinessendoutagreatnotethroughthebasin，likebreakersinaheavysea。Butwemadecoseyinthetent。Wepitchedthetentthisnight，andIwasgladtohaveitshutoutthemountainpeaks。Theyshowedabovethebankswherewecamped；andinthestarlighttheirblackshapesrosestarkagainstthesky。They，withthepinesandthewind，wereabedroomtoounearthlythisnight。Andassoonasoursupperdisheswerewashedwewentinsidetoourlanternandourgameofcribbage。
“Thisissnug，“saidtheVirginian，asweplayed。“Thatwinddon’tgetdownhere。“