When they rode out of the narrow defile into the valley the sun was rising red and bright in a notch of the mountains.  Clouds hung over distant peaks, and the patches of snow in the high canons shone blue and pink.  Smith in the lead turned westward up the valley.  Horses trooped after the cavalcade and had to be driven back.  There were also cattle in the valley, and all these Kells left behind like an honest rancher who had no fear for his stock.  Deer stood off with long ears pointed forward, watching the horses go by.  There were flocks of quail, and whirring grouse, and bounding jack-rabbits, and occasionally a brace of sneaking coyotes.  These and the wild flowers, and the waving meadow-grass, the yellow-stemmed willows, and the patches of alder, all were pleasurable to Joan’s eyes and restful to her mind.

Smith soon led away from this valley up out of the head of a ravine, across a rough rock-strewn ridge, down again into a hollow that grew to be a canon.  The trail was bad.  Part of the time it was the bottom of a boulder-strewn brook where the horses slipped on the wet, round stones.  Progress was slow and time passed.  For Joan, however, it was a relief; and the slower they might travel the better she would like it.  At the end of that journey there were Gulden and the others, and the gold-camp with its illimitable possibilities for such men.

At noon the party halted for a rest.  The camp site was pleasant and the men were all agreeable.  During the meal Kells found occasion to remark to Cleve: 

“Say youngster, you’ve brightened up.  Must be because of our prospects over here.”

“Not that so much,” replied Cleve.  “I quit the whisky.  To be honest, Kells, I was almost seeing snakes.”

“I’m glad you quit.  When you’re drinking you’re wild.  I never yet saw the man who could drink hard and keep his head.  I can’t.  But I don’t drink much.”

His last remark brought a response in laughter.  Evidently his companions thought he was joking.  He laughed himself and actually winked at Joan.

It happened to be Cleve whom Kells told to saddle Joan’s horse, and as Joan tried the cinches, to see if they were too tight to suit her, Jim’s hand came in contact with hers.  That touch was like a message.  Joan was thrilling all over as she looked at Jim, but he kept his face averted.  Perhaps he did not trust his eyes.

Travel was resumed up the canon and continued steadily, though leisurely.  But the trail was so rough, and so winding, that Joan believed the progress did not exceed three miles an hour.  It was the kind of travel in which a horse could be helped and that entailed attention to the lay of the ground.  Before Joan realized the hours were flying, the afternoon had waned.  Smith kept on, however, until nearly dark before halting for camp.