outside connection the gold camp had was this old wagon road, there were
a great many interesting happenings at Dad's little inn. It was really
the only road house on the Stage Road, and was burned down years ago.
Haven't you ever heard that story? I'll tell it to you some time. They
used to say that Dad had any quantity of money--I don't know how true it
was. At any rate, he hasn't much now. After the old inn burned, he built
himself a log cabin down by the spring, and there has lived ever since.
He can tell some great old tales, too. You can't name a single prospector
of the Rocky Mountain region but what Dad can tell you all about him. He
lives a lonely life up here all by himself, shut in all winter by heavy
snows. In the summer he sees a few people passing by, and that helps
some. He's a very friendly old man, and if you treat him right there
isn't anything in the world he won't tell you or do for you if he can. He
loves to talk politics, and can tell you about every Presidential
election back as far as the war. He was a Confederate soldier in his day,
and if there is one thing above another that he loves to talk about,
it's the 'Gov'ment,' as he calls it. 'Uncle Sammy an' me ain't jest
zackly the best o' pards yit, by crackey,' he says, with a twinkle in his
eye."

"That certainly is a great view," explained Ham. "I'm going to unload my
cargo and rest here a bit, for I like this spot. Right up yonder in that
heavy belt of timber is where we used to come so often to stay all night.
There is a great granite boulder up there in the 'Graveyard,' as we used
to call it, that's just as good as a house any day. It leans away out on
one side, and we built a big bed of balsam boughs under it. Right behind
the great rock, to the west, we found a tiny spring, hardly big enough to
be called a spring; but we dug it out and stoned up a small reservoir to
catch the water. We used to come up in the evening, cook our supper, get
our beds ready for the night, then climb on the big rock and watch the