upward-moving dust along the flank of the mountain, through which the
spires of the pines were faintly visible. There was no water in the
bared and burning bars of the river to reflect the vertical sun, but
under its direct rays one or two tinned roofs and corrugated zinc cabins
struck fire, a few canvas tents became dazzling to the eye, and the
white wooded corral of the stage office and hotel insupportable. For
two hours no one ventured in the glare of the open, or even to cross the
narrow, unshadowed street, whose dull red dust seemed to glow between
the lines of straggling houses. The heated shells of these green
unseasoned tenements gave out a pungent odor of scorching wood and
resin. The usual hurried, feverish toil in the claim was suspended;
the pick and shovel were left sticking in the richest "pay gravel;"
the toiling millionaires themselves, ragged, dirty, and perspiring, lay
panting under the nearest shade, where the pipes went out listlessly,
and conversation sank to monosyllables.

"There's Fairfax," said Dick Mattingly, at last, with a lazy effort. His
face was turned to the hillside, where a man had just emerged from
the woods, and was halting irresolutely before the glaring expanse of
upheaved gravel and glistening boulders that stretched between him and
the shaded group. "He's going to make a break for it," he added, as the
stranger, throwing his linen coat over his head, suddenly started into
an Indian trot through the pelting sunbeams toward them. This strange
act was perfectly understood by the group, who knew that in that
intensely dry heat the danger of exposure was lessened by active
exercise and the profuse perspiration that followed it. In another
moment the stranger had reached their side, dripping as if rained upon,
mopping his damp curls and handsome bearded face with his linen coat, as
he threw himself pantingly on the ground.