curious to know what the old prospector had told him about his career.
His record was so black that he naturally became suspicious until he at
length imagined that the young man with the steady unswerving eyes was
following him north with some special object in view. The idea annoyed
him, although he said nothing, but went on with his game.

It took the little steamer some time to reach her destination, as she
had to buck a heavy current part of the way. When she at length tied
up at the landing where the trail over the mountain began, the
passengers scrambled quickly ashore, and started at once upon their
hard journey, carrying heavy loads upon their backs. With their long
trip of several thousand miles almost at an end, the excitement of the
quest increased, and eagerly and feverishly they pressed forward, each
anxious to be the first of the party to reach the mining camp.

But Reynolds was in no hurry. He had not the same incentive as the
others, and so long as his supply of food lasted he was as contented on
the trail as anywhere else. His pack was heavy and the day promised to
be very warm. He preferred to be alone, away from the insipid chatter
and profanity of his companions. It would give him an opportunity to
think and to study the beauty of the landscape.

Leaving the landing, he walked along the trail, which in a short time
began to ascend around the right side of the mountain. Here he stopped
and looked back. The river wound below, and the little steamer was
lying at the bank discharging her cargo. It was the last link between
him and the great outside world of civilization. In a few hours it
would be gone, and for an instant there came to him the longing to go
back and give up his foolish quest. He banished the temptation,
however, and plodded steadily on his way. He had never turned back