A short distance back of the 'diggings,' where the vast masses of
rocks assumed curiously grotesque forms, the miners discovered a rude
cave, where they at once established their headquarters. A tiny stream
ran through the bottom of it, and with a little placing of the close
bowlders, they speedily put it in the best condition of defense.
It was almost entirely surrounded by trees, there was one spot where a
thin man, like Hopkins or Baldy, could draw his body through and climb
a luxuriant cottonwood, whose top have a wide view of the surrounding
plain.
The day passed away without any signs of Indians, Baldy occasionally
ascending the side of the ravine, and scanning the plains in every
direction, on the constant lookout for the insidious approach of their
enemies.
Just before nightfall, while all three were at work, a rifle was
discharged, and the bullet was imbedded in the tough oaken handle of
the spade with which the trapper was digging.
'Whar in thunder did that come from?' be demanded, dropping the
implement, catching up the rifle, and glaring savagely about him.
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