and loaded merely with provisions for the teamster and the team. The
whole thing, from end to end, beat up a stifling cloud of dust.

The sun went down while Beth, Van, and Elsa were still five miles from
their goal. They rode as rapidly as possible. The horses, however,
were jaded, and the way was slightly up grade. The twilight was brief.
It descended abruptly from the western bank of clouds, by now as thick
and dark as mud. Afar off shone the first faint light of the gold-camp
to which the three were riding. This glimmering ray was two miles out
from the center of town. Goldite was spread in a circle four miles
wide, and the most of it was isolated tents.

The darkness shut down like a pall. A vivid, vicious bolt of
lightning--a fiery serpent, overcharged with might--struck down upon
the mountain tops, pouring liquid flame upon the rocks. A sweeping
gust of wind came raging down upon the town, hurling dust and gravel on
the travelers.

Van rode ahead like a spirit of the storm. He knew the need for haste.
Beth simply let her pony go. She was cramped and far too wearied for
effort.

They were galloping now past the outskirts of the camp, the many
scattered tents of the men who were living on their claims. All the
world was a land of claims, staked off with tall white posts, like
ghosts in the vanishing light. Ahead, a multitude of lights had
suddenly broken on the travelers' vision, like a nearby constellation
of stars.

They rode into all of it, blazing lights, eager crowds upon the