Chapter 8The morning of the rumored stampede arrived. Rumored, that is, because although it was obvious that nearly the entire town was pulling up stakes to follow them, Fairweather and Edgar were still playing coy. A crowd of two hundred or more milled about the pair of prospectors as they made what appeared to be their final preparations. Some in the crowd were afoot, loaded with just what gear they thought essential, while others were outfitted like Lo and Jane with horses and pack animals. Excitement charged the air around the churning assemblage, and the noise from men and animals alike was deafening. Among this mass of humanity, diverse as it was, one would have been hard-pressed to find a more incongruous pair than the c******n in pigtails, sitting heavily astride his sturdy mule, a
