But by some
peculiar trick of the atmosphere the perfect plenitude of that golden
sunset glory was lavished on the rugged sides and tangled crest of the
Lone Star Mountain. That isolated peak, the landmark of their claim,
the gaunt monument of their folly, transfigured in the evening
splendor, kept its radiance unquenched long after the glow had fallen
from the encompassing skies, and when at last the rising moon, step by
step, put out the fires along the winding valley and plains, and crept
up the bosky sides of the canon, the vanishing sunset was lost only to
reappear as a golden crown.
The eyes of the young man were fixed upon it with more than a momentary
picturesque interest. It had been the favorite ground of his
prospecting exploits, its lowest flank had been scarred in the old
enthusiastic days with hydraulic engines, or pierced with shafts, but
its central position in the claim and its superior height had always
given it a commanding view of the extent of their valley and its
approaches, and it was this practical preeminence that alone attracted
him at that moment.
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