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Wedidnotmakethirty-fivemilesthatday，noryettwenty-five，forhehadletmesleep。Wemadeanearlycampandtriedsomeunsuccessfulfishing，overwhichhewascheerful，promisingtroutto-morrowwhenweshouldbehigheramongthemountains。Heneveragaintouchedorcamenearthesubjectthatwasonhismind，butwhileIsatwritingmydiary，hewentofftohishorseMonte，andIcouldhearthatheoccasionallytalkedtothatfriend。
NextdayweswungsouthwardfromwhatisknowntomanyastheConanttrail，andheadedforthatshortcutthroughtheTetonswhichisknowntobutafew。BitchCreekwasthenameofthestreamwenowfollowed，andheretherewassuchgoodfishingthatweidled；andthehorsesandIatleastenjoyedourselves。Fortheyfoundfreshpasturesandshadeinthenowplentifulwoods；
andthemountainodorsandthemountainheightswereenoughformewhenthefishrefusedtorise。Thisroadofoursnowbecametheroadwhichthepursuithadtakenbeforethecapture。Goingalong，Inoticedthefootprintsofmanyhoofs，rain-blurredbutrecent，andthesewerethetracksofthepeopleIhadmetinthestable。
“YoucannoticeMonte’s，“saidtheVirginian。“Heistheonlyonethathashishindfeetshod。There’sseveraltrailsfromthispointdowntowherewehavecomefrom。“
Wemountednowoveralongslantofrock，smoothandofwideextentAboveusitwentupeasilyintoalittlesidecanyon，butahead，whereourwaywas，itgrewsosteepthatwegotoffandledourhorses。Thisbroughtustothenexthigherlevelofthemountain，aspaceofsagebrushmoreopen，wheretherain-washedtracksappearedagaininthesofterground。
“Someonehasbeenheresincetherain，“IcalledtotheVirginian，whowasstillontherock，walkingupbehindthepackhorses。
“Sincetherain！“heexclaimed。“That’snottwodaysyet。“Hecameandexaminedthefootprints。“Amanandahawss，“hesaid，frowning。“Goingthesamewayweare。Howdidhecometopassus，andusnotseehim？“
“Oneoftheothertrails，“Iremindedhim。
“Yes，butthere’snotmanythatknowsthem。Theyareprettyroughtrails。“
“Worsethanthisonewe’retaking？“
“Notmuch；onlyhowdoeshecometoknowanyofthem？Andwhydon’thetaketheConanttrailthat’sopenandeasyandnotmuchlonger？Onemanandahawss。Idon’tseewhoheisorwhathewantshere。“
“Probablyaprospector，“Isuggested。
“Onlyoneoutfitofprospectorshaseverbeenhere，andtheyclaimedtherewasnomineral-bearingrockintheseparts。“
Wegotbackintooursaddleswiththemysteryunsolved。TotheVirginianitwasagreaterone，apparently，thantome；whyshouldonehavetoaccountforeverystraytravellerinthemountains？
“That’squeer，too，“saidtheVirginian。Hewasnowridinginfrontofme，andhestopped，lookingdownatthetrail。“Don’tyounotice？“
Itdidnotstrikeme。
“Why，hekeepswalkingbesidehishawss；hedon’tgetonhim。“
Nowwe，ofcourse，hadmountedatthebeginningofthebettertrailafterthesteeprock，andthatwasquitehalfamileback。
Still，Ihadanaturalexplanation。“He’sleadingapackhorse。
He’sapoortrapper，andwalks。“
“Packhorsesain’tusuallyshodbeforeandbehind，“saidtheVirginian；andslidingtothegroundhetouchedthefootprints。
“Theyarenotfourhoursold，“saidhe。“Thisbank’sinshadowbyoneo’clock，andthesunhasnotcookedthemdusty。“
Wecontinuedonourway；andalthoughitseemednoveryparticularthingtomethatamanshouldchoosetowalkandleadhishorseforawhile，——Ioftendidsotolimbermymuscles，——neverthelessIbegantocatchtheVirginian’suncertainfeelingaboutthistravellerwhosestepshadappearedonourpathinmid-journey，asifhehadalightedfromthemid-air，andtoremindmyselfthathehadcomeoverthegreatfaceofrockfromanothertrailandthusjoinedus，andthatindigenttrappersaretobefoundowningbutasinglehorseandleadinghimwiththeirbelongingsthroughthedeepestsolitudesofthemountains——noneofthisquitebroughtbacktomethecomfortwhichhadbeenminesinceweleftthecottonwoodsoutofsightdownintheplain。
HenceIcalledoutsharply，“What’sthematternow？“whentheVirginiansuddenlystoppedhishorseagain。
Helookeddownatthetrail，andthenheveryslowlyturnedroundinhissaddleandstaredbacksteadilyatme。“There’stwoofthem，“hes
