the second speaker was close shaven, thin, and energetic; the
third, with the pleasant voice, in height, litheness, and
suppleness of figure appeared to be the youngest of the party. The
trail had now become a grayish streak along the level table-land
they were following, which also had the singular effect of
appearing lighter than the surrounding landscape, yet of plunging
into utter darkness on either side of its precipitous walls.
Nevertheless, at the end of an hour the leader rose in his stirrups
with a sigh of satisfaction.

"There's the light in Collinson's Mill! There's nothing gaudy and
spectacular about that, boys, eh? No, sir! it's a square, honest
beacon that a man can steer by. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
He was pointing into the darkness below the already descending
trail. Only a pioneer's eye could have detected the few pin-pricks
of light in the impenetrable distance, and it was a signal proof of
his leadership that the others accepted it without seeing it.
"It's just ten o'clock," he continued, holding a huge silver watch
to his eye; "we've wasted an hour on those blamed spooks yonder!"

"We weren't off the trail more than ten minutes, Uncle Dick,"
protested the pleasant voice.

"All right, my son; go down there if you like and fetch out your
Witch of Endor, but as for me, I'm going to throw myself the other
side of Collinson's lights. They're good enough for me, and a
blamed sight more stationary!"

The grade was very steep, but they took it, California fashion, at
a gallop, being genuinely good riders, and using their brains as