That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim before then.

Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on the grubstake.
Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains.

A branch railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, and every day--unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, or drifts too deep--a train passed over the road.

One day it would go up-stream, and the next day it would come back.

And the houses stood drawn up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings.
Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting ceremony, and went away into the hills.