horses or mules for the same were not visible. Outside, near
the door of one tent, stood a transit partially concealed by the
enveloping rubber cover. Near another tent stood a plane table,
used in field platting (drawing). Signs of life about the camp
there were none, save for the presence of the newcomers.

"I wonder if there's anyone at home keeping house," mused Tom
Reade, as he jumped down from the wagon.

"There's only one wooden house in this town. That must be where
the boss lives," declared Harry.

"Yes; that's where the boss lives," replied the Colorado youth,
with a wry smile.

"Let's go over and see whether he has time to talk to us," suggested
Reade.

"Just one minute, gentlemen," interposed the driver. "Where do
you want your kit boxes placed? Are you going to pay me now?"

"Drop the kit boxes on the ground anywhere," Tom answered. "We're
strong enough to carry 'em when we find where they belong."

And---yes: we are going to pay you now. Eighteen dollars, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied the young driver, with the brevity of the mountaineer.

Tom and Harry went into their pockets, each producing nine dollars
as his share of the fare. This was handed over to the Colorado