down and the sky looked as if the rainfall might cease at any moment.
"Wall, we'll try fer breakfast," observed Abe Blower. "Nothin' like a hot cup o' coffee an' some flapjacks to cheer a man up."
The driest of the wood was selected, and they built a new fire with care, in the shelter of the largest of the overhanging rocks. Soon the appetizing odor of freshly made coffee filled the air and all drew close, to have a cup, and to partake of some fried bacon and some of Abe Blower's famous flapjacks.
"Them flapjacks made Abe a good friend," observed Tom Dillon, while eating. "They was the means o' introducing Maurice Harrison to him. Ain't that so, Abe?" And the old miner grinned broadly.
"Right you are!" was the ready reply. "We was in the mountains together, and Maurice didn't have nuthin' to eat. I made him some o' my flapjacks an' then we became pardners fer nigh on to a year. Thet was up at tudder end o' the State," explained Abe Blower.
By the time breakfast was over and the horses had been cared for, the rain had stopped and the sun was breaking through the eastern sky. All in the camp lost no time in changing their wet garments for dry. The soaked clothing was then
