CHAPTER XVI
When Thomson Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn reached the little canyon in theOro Fino mountains they saw that the two would-be kidnappers must havebeen there since Wellesly's departure for three of the four horseswere quietly grazing, with hobbled feet, beside the rivulet. Theyspeculated upon what the absence of the fourth horse might mean whilethey staked their own beasts and started on the trail of the two men.Up the larger canyon a little way they saw buzzards flying low andheavily.
"That looks as if one of 'em was dead," said Nick.
"It would be just like the scrubs," Tom grumbled, "for both of 'em togo and die before we get a pop at 'em. I want to see the color oftheir hair just once. Confound their measly skins, they might have gotEmerson into a worse scrape than this Whittaker business."
They were both silent for some moments, watching the buzzards as theyswooped low over some dark object on the floor of the canyon. As theycame nearer they saw that the dead thing on which the birds werefeeding was the missing horse.
"They killed it for meat," said Nick, pointing to a clean cut whichhad severed one hind leg from the body.
"Yes, and not so very long ago, either," Tom assented, "or thebuzzards wouldn't have left this much flesh on it, and it would bedried up more."
"Say, Tom, they brought this beast up here to kill it, and they surewouldn't have brought it so far away if they had wanted the meat downthere in that canyon. They must have changed camp."
"Then there's water higher up. They're in here yet, Nick, and we'llfind 'em. We must keep our eyes and ears peeled, so they can't get thefirst pop."
They picked their way carefully up the canyon, watching the gorge thatlengthened beyond them and the walls that towered above their heads,listening constantly for the faintest sounds of human voice or foot,speaking rarely and always in a whisper. The floor of the canyon wasstrewn with boulders large and small, and its sides rose above them inrugged, barren, precipitous cliffs. Nowhere did they see the slightestsign of vegetation to relieve the wilderness of sand and rock andbarren walls. Not even a single grass blade thrust a brave green headbetween forbidding stones. Above them was a sky of pure, brilliantblue, and around them was the gray of the everlasting granite. Exceptfor the sound of their own footsteps, the canyon was absolutelysilent. There was no call of animals one to another, or twitter ofbirds, or whirr of feathered wings, or piping of insects. Now andthen a slender, graceful lizard darted silently out of the sunshineto hide beneath a stone, and far behind them in the canyon thebuzzards wheeled in low, awkward flights above the carcass of the deadhorse. But aside from these no living creature was to be seen.
The sun shone squarely down upon the canyon and the baking heatbetween its narrow walls would have dazed the brains and shaken theknees of men less hardy and less accustomed to the fierce, poundingsunshine of the southwest. Tuttle stole several inquiring glances atNick's face. Then he stopped and cast a searching look all about them,carefully scanning the canyon before and behind them and its wallsabove their heads. He looked at Nick again and then threw anothercareful glance all about. He coughed a little, came close to Nick'sside, wiped the sweat from his face, and finally spoke, hesitatingly,in a half whisper:
"Say, Nick, what do you-all think about Will Whittaker? Do you reckonEmerson killed him?"
Ellhorn shut one eye at the jagged peak which seemed to bore into theblue above them, considered a moment, and replied: "Well, I reckon ifhe did Will needed killin' almighty bad."
"You bet he did," was Tom's emphatic response.
They trudged on to the head of the canyon and explored most of thesmaller ones opening into it. But no trace of human presence, eitherrecent or remote, did they find anywhere. When night came on theyreturned to their camp somewhat disappointed that they had seen nosign of the two men. Early the next morning they started out again,and searched carefully through the remaining canyons that weretributary to the large one, climbed again to its head, and clamberedover the ridge at its source. There they looked down the other side ofthe mountain, over a barren wilderness of jagged cliffs and yawningchasms, with here and there a little clump of scrub pines or cedarsclinging and crawling along the mountain side. They examined thesummit of the peak and walked a little way down the eastern slope,looking into the gorges and searching the scrub-dotted slopes untilthe sinking sun drove them back to their camp. But they found neitherwater, save some strongly alkaline springs, nor any trace of humanbeings. As they discussed the day's adventures over their supper, Tomsaid:
"There must have been some reason why they killed that horse justwhere they did."
"Yes," said Nick, "if they had moved their camp to some other canyonhigher up, or on the other side of the mountain, they might just aswell have driven the beast farther up before they killed it."
"If they had wanted the meat down here," added Tom, "they wouldn'thave driven it so far away. They must have wanted it right there."
They looked at each other with a sudden flash of intelligence in theirpuzzled eyes and Nick thwacked his knee resoundingly. Then he spokethe thought that had burst into each mind:
"There must be a trail up the canyon wall!"
"YOU'VE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME. I'LL BE DEAD IN TENMINUTES."--_p. 206_]
Early the next morning they were examining more closely than they haddone before the walls of the canyon near the carcass. On the righthand side, the same side on which was the canyon where they had theircamp, they found a narrow ledge beginning several feet above theboulders which strewed the floor of the canyon at the base of thewall. They found that with care they could walk along it, although insome places it was so narrow that there was scarcely room for Tuttle'sbig bulk. Nick was in constant fear lest his friend might topple over,and finally insisted that Tom should go back and wait until he reachedthe top of the wall or the end of the ledge. Tuttle blankly refused todo anything of the sort.
They were then in the narrowest place they had found, and it was onlyby flattening their bodies against the rock and clinging with all thestrength in their fingers to the little knobs and crevices whichroughened the wall that they could keep their footing. Nick, standingflat against the precipice with a hand stretched out on each side,looked over his shoulder at Tom, who was a few feet in the rear. Healso was facing the wall, clinging with both hands and shuffling hisfeet along sidewise, a few inches at each step. Beyond, the ledge rosein a gradual incline to the top of the cliff, perhaps six hundredfeet farther on. Below, the wall dropped abruptly a hundred feet tothe boulder covered floor of the canyon.
"Tommy," said Nick, "you-all better go back. It ain't safe for a manof your size."
"Go back! Not much!"
"Well, I shan't go any farther until you do!"
"Then you'll have to hang on by your eyelids till I get past you!"
"Tom, don't be a fool!"
"Don't you, neither."
"Tom, you're the darnedest obstinate cuss I ever saw in my life.You'll tip over backwards first thing you know."
"Nick, if Emerson was here it would sure be his judgment that we-allcan get to the top of this cliff. So you shut up and go on."
"I tell you I won't do it till you go back! Darn your skin, I wouldn'tbe as pig-headed as you are for a hundred dollars a minute!"
"Well, I wouldn't be as big a fool as you are for a thousand!"
"Tommy, if you-all don't go back, I'll be no friend of yours afterthis day!"
"Well, if you don't go on and shut up that fool talk I don't want tobe friends any longer with any such hen-headed, white-livered--"
"Tom!"
"Well, then, shut up and go on, or I'll call you worse names thanthat!"
"You obstinate son of a sea-cook, I tell you I won't go on unless yougo back!"
"Nick, it will take me just about half a minute to get near enough topush you off. And I'm goin' to do it, too, if you don't hold yourjackass jaw and go on."
There was silence for the space of full twenty seconds while Ellhornwatched Tuttle edging his way car
efully along the narrow shelf. Thenhe spoke:
"Well, anyway, Tom, don't you try to take a deep breath or that bellyof yours will tip the mountain over and make it mash somebody on theother side!" Then he turned his head and shuffled along toward the topof the cliff.
The shelf widened again presently and they found the rest of itcomparatively easy traveling. At one place there were some drops ofdried blood on the ledge and in another a bloody stain on the wall atabout the height of a man's shoulders. This confirmed their beliefthat Haney and Jim had found and climbed this narrow ledge with themeat and camp supplies on their backs. When they reached the top Nickheld out his hand and said:
"Say, old man, I reckon we-all didn't mean anything we said backthere."
Tom took the proffered hand and held it a moment:
"No, I guess not. I sure reckon Emerson would say we didn't. Nick,what made you get that fool notion in your head that I didn't havesand to get through?"
"I didn't think you didn't have sand, Tommy. I thought--the trail wasso narrow, I thought you'd tumble off." A broad grin sent the curlingends of his mustache up toward his eyes and he went on: "Tom, you surelooked plumb ridiculous!"
Shaking hands again, they turned to their work. They stood on thesteep, sloping side of the mountain, which was cracked and seamed witha network of chasms and gulches. A ridge ran slantingly down themountain and the intricate, irregular network of narrow, steep-sidedcracks and gulches which filled the slope finally gave, on the righthand, into the deep, gaping canyon which had been their thoroughfare,and on their left into another, apparently similar, some distance tothe south. Farther up, toward the backbone of the ridge, there seemedto be a narrow stretch, unbroken by the gulches, which extended to thenext canyon. They made their way thither and walked slowly along,stopping now and then to scan the mountain side or to sweep with theireyes the visible portions of the canyons below and behind them. Theyhad covered more than half the distance between the two canyons whenTom, who had been studying one particular spot far down the mountain,exclaimed:
"Nick, there's water down there! See where the top of that pine treecomes up above the rocks, away down there, nearly to the divide?"
"You're sure right," said Nick, looking carefully over the groundwhich Tom indicated. A moment later he went on: "That's the head ofthe spring in the canyon where our camp is! You can follow the courseof the gulch right along. I reckon that's where we'll find what we'relooking for!"
They turned to retrace their steps, their faces eager and alert andtheir feet quickening beneath them, when through the silence came thedull, far-away thud of a pistol shot. It was behind them and seemed tocome from the canyon toward which they had been walking. With oneglance at each other they drew their pistols and ran toward its head.They clambered over the boulders and, with reckless leaps and swings,let themselves down to its floor. Pausing only a moment toreconnoiter, they hurried down the gulch, casting quick glances allabout them for the first sign of a living being. After a little theystopped and listened intently, each holding a cocked revolver, but notthe faintest sound broke the midday stillness.
"Do you reckon it was in this canyon?" said Tom in a hoarse whisper.
"Got to be," Nick replied, poking out his lower jaw. "We've beensniffing the trail long enough. We'll give them a bait now."
He raised his revolver to shoot into the air, but even before hisfinger touched the trigger, a pistol shot resounded from down thecanyon and its echoes rolled and rumbled between the walls. An instantlater they saw the smoke curling upward and dissolving in the still,clear air, perhaps half way toward the canyon's mouth. But they couldsee no sign of man, nor of any moving thing in its vicinity. Theyhurried on, cautiously watching the walls and the canyon in front ofthem, and now and then turning for a quick backward glance, to guardagainst attack in the rear. As they neared the point from which thesmoke had risen, they saw that one of the narrow, deep chasms in themountain side opened there, with a wide, gaping mouth, into thecanyon. A mound of debris was heaped in front. Stepping softly, theypeered around the pile of rocks and saw, lying in the mouth of thechasm, a man with a revolver gripped in his right hand. Blood stainedhis clothing and ran out over the rocks and sand. He was a tall manwith a short, bushy, iron-gray beard covering his face. Tuttle andEllhorn covered him with their revolvers and walked to his side. Heput up a feeble, protesting hand.
"It's all right, strangers. You've nothing to fear from me. I'll bedead in ten minutes."
"Who killed you?"
"Was it the two ornery scrubs we're after?"
"I've put the last shot in myself. If you'd been half an hour earlierI might have had a chance."
"What's the matter? What's happened? Tom, give him a drink out of theflask."
"No, give me water," said the man. "I emptied my canteen thismorning."
Nick lifted his head and Tom held their canteen to his lips. He drankdeeply, and as he lay down again he looked at Tom curiously.
"Two days ago I had a fight with two men, and I've been lying hereever since. They did me up, so that I knew I'd got to die if no helpcame. And I knew that was just about as likely as a snowstorm, but Icouldn't help bankin' on the possibility. So I laid here two days andthrew rocks at the coyote that came and sat on that heap of stones andwaited for me to die. This morning I drank the last of the water and Isaid to myself that if nobody came by the time the sun was straightabove that peak yonder I'd put a bullet into my heart. I had two left,and I used one on the coyote that had been a-settin' on that rockwatchin' me the whole morning. I was bound he shouldn't pick my bones,he'd been so sassy and so sure about it. You'll find his carcass downthe canyon a ways. That tired my arm and I waited and rested a spellbefore I tried it on myself. But I was weaker than I thought and Icouldn't hold the gun steady, and the bullet didn't go where I meantit to. But I'm bleedin' to death."
"The two men--what became of them? I reckon they're the ones we'relookin' for!" exclaimed Nick.
"Are you? Well, I guess you'll find 'em scattered down the canyon, orelse up there," and he pointed to the mountain side above. "Theycouldn't get very far."
"Did you kill 'em?" asked Tom anxiously. "You've spoiled a job we'vecome here for if you did."
The man scanned Tom's face again and a light of recognition broke intohis eyes. "I reckon I did," he replied complacently. "Anyway, I hopeso."
"What was the matter? Did they do you up?"
"Well, I'll tell you about the whole business. My name's Bill Frank,and I've been here in the mountains since--well, a long time, huntin'for the lost Dick Winter's mine. I found it, too. It was right in herebehind me, but he'd worked it clean out. I reckon it was nothin' but apocket, but a mighty big, rich one, and then the vein had pinched. Sothen I went to work and hunted for the gold he'd taken out. I found itall, or all he told me about. You see, I knew Dick. I was with himwhen he died, and he told me what he'd got. There was a Dutch oven anda pail and a coffee pot, all full of lumps, and two tomato cans fullof little ones, and a whisky flask full of dust, and a gunny sack fullof ore that was just lousy with gold. Much good it will do me now, orthem other fellows, either, damn their souls! Well, I'd hid the coffeepot and the pail and the Dutch oven and the whisky flask and onetomato can down by the spring, where I had my camp. I knew pretty wellwhere the rest of it was, after I'd found that much, and I came uphere two days ago, in the morning, and looked around till I found thegunny sack. I brought it here and threw it inside this place, whichpoor Dick Winters had blasted out, never dreamin' of such a thing asthat anybody would show up. Then I went away again to find the othertomato can, and when I came back two men were here packin' out my sackof ore."
"What did they look like?" Nick exclaimed.
"One was tall and thin and youngish like, with a bad look, and theother was short and stout and a good deal older, and he had a red,round face."
"The damned, ornery scrubs! They're the ones we're after," Tomexclaimed, jumping up. "You didn't kill 'em, stranger?" he addedpleadingly.
>
"I guess I did. I sure reckon you'll find 'em scattered promiscuousdown the canyon. I drew my gun and told 'em to drop it, that it wasmine. They began to shoot, and so did I, and I backed 'em out, andmade 'em drop the sack, and started 'em on the run. They couldn'tshoot as well as I could, and I know I hit one of 'em in the head andthe other one mighty near the heart. I poked my head out for a lastblaze at 'em, to make sure of my work, and the short one, he let driveat me and took me in the lung, and that's the one that did me up. Butthey'd broken one leg before."
"Can't you-all pull through if we tote you out of here?" asked Nick.
Bill Frank shook his head. His breath was beginning to fail and hisvoice sank to a whisper with each sentence.
"No; I'm done for. You can't do nothin' for me." Then he turned toTom. "Pardner, I did you a bad trick when I saw you before, though Ihad to do it. And when I told you good-bye I said I hoped that if Iever saw you again I could treat you whiter than I did that time.Well, I've got the chance now. That tomato can and that gunny sack areover there behind your pardner, and you and him can have 'em. Theother tomato can and the whisky flask and the coffee pot and the pailand the Dutch oven are under some big rocks behind a boulder southfrom the spring, if them two thieves didn't carry 'em away, and youand your pardner can have it all. The trail takes you to the spring."
Tom was staring at him in wide-eyed amazement, trying to recall hisface. Nick exclaimed hurriedly:
"Hold on, pard! Ain't you-all got some folks somewhere who ought tohave this? Tell us where they are and we'll see that they get it."
The man shook his head. His breath was labored, and he spoke withdifficulty as he whispered: "There ain't anybody who'd care whetherI'm dead or alive, except to get that gold, and I'd rather you'd haveit. You're white, anyway, and you've treated me white, both of you,and I've always been sorry I had to play Thomson Tuttle here that meantrick, because he was a gentleman about it, and sand clean through."
Tom was still staring at him. "Stranger," he said, "you've got theadvantage of me. I can't remember that I've ever set eyes on youbefore."
The death glaze was coming in the man's eyes and his failing whisperstruggled to get past his stiffening lips.
"I held you up, and held a gun on you-all one night, last spring, upnear the White Sands."
"Oh, that time!" Tom exclaimed. "That was all right. I reckonedyou-all had good reason for it."
Bill Frank nodded. "Yes," he whispered, "we had to--in the wagon--"Some of his words were unintelligible, but a sudden flash ofinspiration leaped through Nick's mind.
"Did you have Will Whittaker's body? Who killed him? Tom, the whisky,quick! We must keep him alive till he can tell!"
The man's lips were moving and Nick put his ear close to them andthought he caught the word "not," but he was not sure. Bill Frank'shead moved from side to side, but whether he meant to shake it, orwhether it was the death agony, they could not tell. Tom put the flaskto his lips, but he could not swallow, and in another moment the deathrattle sounded in his throat.
They waited beside the dead man's body until every sign of life wasextinct. They closed his eyes, straightened his limbs, and folded hishands upon his breast. Then said Tom:
"Nick, he was too white a man to leave for the coyotes. We must dosomething with him."
"You're sure right, Tommy. But what can we do? This sand ain't deepenough to keep 'em from diggin' him up, even if we bury him."
Tom looked about him and considered the situation a moment. "We'llhave to rock him up in here, Nick, in Dick Winters' mine."
At one side of the wide, blasted out mouth of the deep crack in themountain from which Dick Winters had taken his gold, and level withthe bottom of the crevice, there was a long, oval hollow, half as wideas a man's body. The solid rock had cracked out of it after somegiant-powder blast. They laid the body of Bill Frank in this shallowcrypt and began to pile rocks around it. Suddenly Tom stopped, lookedat Nick inquiringly, hesitated and cleared his throat.
"Say, Nick," he blurted out, "it ain't a square deal to put a fellowaway like this. Somebody ought to say something over him."
"No, you bet it ain't a square deal," said Nick. "We wouldn't like itif it was one of us. But what can we do? There ain't no preacherhere."
"I was thinkin', Nick," Tom hesitated and blushed a deep crimson, "Iwas sure thinkin' that maybe--well, I thought--that you-all could saysomething. You know you always can say something. You-all better sayit, Nick." And without waiting for denial or protest Tom took off hishat and bent his head. Nick flashed a surprised look at his companion,waiting in reverent attitude, hesitated an instant, and then doffedhis hat, bent his head and began. And the good Lord who heard hisprayer did not need to ask his pedigree, for the Irish intonationwith which he rolled the words off his tongue in honey-like waves toldhis ancestry:
"Good Lord, sure and Ye'll rest this poor man's soul, for he was whiteclean through. Sure, and he was no coward, and no scrub, neither. Butthe other two--Ye'd better let them fry in their own fat till they'recracklin's. You bet, that is what they deserve, and we can prove it.Amen."
They built a close wall of rock around Bill Frank's resting place highenough to reach the over-hanging rock, and so heavy and secure that noprowling coyote could reach the body, or even dislodge a single stone.After it was all finished they decided that there ought to besomething about the grave to show whose bones rested within it. NickEllhorn tore some blank paper from the bottom of a partly filled sheetwhich he found in his pocket and wrote the inscription:
"Here lies the body of Bill Frank, who was white clean through. He was done up by two of the damnedest scrubs that ever died lying down. He killed them both before Tom Tuttle and Nick Ellhorn got sight of the color of their hair, which is the only thing we can't forgive him.
"P. S. and N. B.--This is the lost Dick Winters' mine, and there is nothing in it, except Bill Frank's body."
They emptied the nuggets of gold from the tomato can and put them intheir pockets. Then they folded the paper and put it in the can, witha small stone to hold it in place. Tom found an unused envelope inhis pocket, and Nick printed on it, in big capitals, "Bill Frank," andthey pasted it, by means of the flap, on the front of the can. Thenthey made a place for the can midway of the stone wall, and fastenedit in so that it would be held firmly in place by the surroundingstones.
There was an easy trail down one side of the canyon, which DickWinters had made long before by removing the largest stones. A dribbleof blood, dried on the sands, marked it all the way. Perhaps a miledown the gulch it came to a sudden stop in a great heap of debris, anda zigzag path started up the side of the canyon. The two men stopped,following the course of the shelving trail with their eyes, and asthey looked there was a rattle of loose stone and sand, and some darkbody rolled over the side of the gulch from the top of the path. Theirhands flashed to their revolver butts, and stopped there, as theywatched its downward course in wonder. They saw the arms and feet of ahuman form flung out aimlessly as the thing rolled from ledge toledge, and they tried to catch a glimpse of the face as now and againthe head hung over a rock and disclosed for a second the ghastlyfeatures. Down it came, with the cascade of loose pebbles before it,and lay still in the hot sand at their feet. It was Jim's lifeless andmangled body. Nick glanced to the rim of the canyon wall and saw thehead of a coyote peering over.
"There's the beast that tumbled him down," he whispered, and raisedhis revolver, but before he could shoot, the thing disappeared.
At this point the canyon walls began to grow less steep, and DickWinters had taken advantage of the sloping, shelving side to make azigzag trail to the summit, in some places blasting the solid rock,and in others building out the pathway with great stones. Nick and Tomfollowed the path to the mountain side above, where little pools ofdried blood made a trail which showed the way a wounded man had taken.A little farther they found the body of Bill Haney, flat on its face,with arms spread out on either side. A coyote slu
nk away as theyappeared, dragging its hinder parts uselessly.
"I reckon that's the one Bill Frank thought he killed," said Nick, ashe put a bullet through its head.
They turned the body of Bill Haney over on its back and regarded itsilently for some moments.
"Tommy," said Nick, "we ought to put these poor devils where thecoyotes can't get 'em."
Tom looked away with disfavor in his face. "They might have gotEmerson into a hell of a scrape. Suppose anybody but us had foundWellesly the other day! Everybody would have believed that Emerson hadordered these two measly scamps to do what they did!"
"That's so," Nick replied, "but that's all straight now, and they arepast doin' any more harm, and it ain't a square deal to let a fellowbe eat up by coyotes."
Tom looked down into the dead, staring eyes and soberly replied: "Iguess you're right, Nick, and I sure reckon Emerson would say we oughtto do it."
They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloodytrail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned intothe wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, anddecently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyesof the two dead men.
"Now," said Nick, "we'll pile rocks across the mouth of the gulch, andthen they'll be safe enough, for no coyote is going to jump down fromthe top of these walls."
Tom made no answer. He was standing with his hands in his pocketslooking at the two bloody, mangled corpses.
"Nick, don't you-all think we'd better say something over thesefellows, too? It ain't the square deal to put 'em away without a word,even if they were the worst scrubs in creation. You-all better saysomething, Nick, like you did before."
Tom took off his hat, without even a glance at his companion, and benthis head. Ellhorn also doffed his sombrero and bent forward inreverent attitude, ready to begin.
"Good Lord," he said, and then he stopped and hesitated so long thatTuttle looked up to see what was the matter. "Go on, Nick," he urgedin a low tone.
"Good Lord, Ye'd better do as Ye think best about lettin' 'em fry intheir own fat--so long. They were scrubs, that's straight, but they'redead now, and can't do any more harm. Good Lord, we hope--Ye'll seeYour way to have mercy on their souls. Amen."
They began piling rocks across the mouth of the narrow chasm, andworked for some moments in silence. Nick glanced inquiringly at Tomseveral times, and finally he spoke:
"Say, Tommy, that was all right, I guess, wasn't it?"
"Nick, I sure reckon Emerson would say it was." And Ellhorn knew thathis companion could give no stronger assent.
They built a wall high enough to keep the coyotes away from the twobodies, and then followed the trail upon the canyon wall and acrossthe mountain side to the spring. There they found Bill Frank's campingoutfit and the few things that Jim and Haney had transferred from thecanyon below. They found, also, the pan and the hand mortar, rusty andbattered by the storms of many years, with which Dick Winters hadslowly and with infinite toil beaten and washed out the gold he wasnever to enjoy. After an hour's search they found the store of nuggetswhere Bill Frank had hidden them. Haney and Jim had never guessed hownear they had come to the wealth for which they were searching.
The two men looked over the contents of pail, coffee pot, oven andcans and talked of the long, wearisome, lonely labor Dick Winters musthave had, carrying the sacks of ore on his back, from his mine downthe canyon, up the trail, and across the mountain side, to this littlespring, where he had then to pound it up in his mortar and wash outthe gold in his pan.
"It's no wonder the desert did him up," said Nick. "He had no strengthleft to fight it with. It's likely he was luny before he started."
"Nick, you don't reckon there's a cuss on this gold, do you? Just seehow many people it has killed. Dick Winters and Bill Frank and Jim andHaney, besides all the prospectors that have died huntin' for it.You-all don't reckon anything will happen to us, or to Emerson, if wetake it?"
The two big Texans, who had never quailed before man or gun, looked ateach other, their faces full of sudden seriousness, and there was justa shadow of fear in both blue eyes and black. The silence and thevastness of an empty earth and sky can bring up undreamed of thingsfrom the bottom of men's minds. Ellhorn's more skeptical nature wasthe first to gird itself against the suggestion.
"No, Tommy, I don't reckon anything of the sort. Bill Frank gave it tous, and Dick Winters gave it to him, or, anyway, wanted him to find itand have it, and I reckon Dick Winters worked hard enough to get itto have a better right to it than God himself. It's sure ours, Tom,and I reckon there won't be any cuss on it as long as we can shootstraighter than anybody who wants to hold us up for it."
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