The melancholy and philosophic Demorest was alert and bitter.
Barker's changeful face had become fixed and steadfast.

Stacy alone wore his "fighting look," which the others had remembered.
They had not long to wait.

The sounds of rude laughter, coarse skylarking, and voices more or less still confused with half-spent liquor came from the rocky trail.

And then Steptoe appeared with part of his straggling followers, who were celebrating their easy invasion by clattering their picks and shovels and beating loudly upon their tins and prospecting-pans.

The three partners quickly recognized the stamp of the strangers, in spite of their peaceful implements.