faintly scented by the bursting wild-cherry blossoms that grew in great
profusion along the stream. Here and there, in a moist crevice, a
glow-worm shed forth its greenish-yellow glow, to let you know it was
night time and summer. Far away in the distance Phantom Falls was
tumbling and splashing over a great pile of drift logs.

As the little company crossed the bridge and rounded a turn in the road,
a campfire, built in a little sheltered nook back from the road, came
into view. It cast long beams of light and grotesque shadows in every
direction, while the odor of cherry blossoms changed to the aroma of good
coffee.

"I hope Old Ben has as good a pot of coffee on the fire at the Inn," said
one.

Presently "Old Night Cap" loomed up against the sky.

"This is as far as we could come a year or two ago," said Mr. Allen to
Willis. "Before the railroad and the inn were built we used to think it
was a long way even up here to the old mine."

"Did I ever tell you about the old Negro that owned this mine? Well, he
came herein the early days and found a strange yellow outcropping here.
He built himself a funny little shanty on the hillside, which he thatched
with spruce boughs. Here he spent a good many years of his life, digging.
His tunnel caved in soon after he left it, but he did find a little gold
for his work. When his provisions gave out, he would take his old mule,
which was his only companion, tramp into the city, sell his little bag of
gold dust, and buy bacon, flour, and beans. After a little spree he would
return to the mine, always sure that he would find the gold in larger