CHAPTER XVII

THE NIGHT CRY It was the afternoon of the fifth day, and they were almost in the middle of the great plain which lay between the Blue River diggings and the capital of the Western world. Already there were gathering symptoms of the swift twilight soon to settle down upon them. Bryan patted the tired mule which he was leading—there was but one now—and spoke to it encouragingly. “Just a bit further, Pete! Good old man! Stiff, Myra?” he added, looking up at her. “Guess I’ll walk a bit!” she answered, slipping off. “Pe…