Free Skeleton Lode by Ralph Compton Page B

Come on.”
     
    Despite Paulette’s shrieks, they started down the steep slope. Concealed behind a distant upthrust of rock, Dallas and Arlo watched their descent.
     
    “For the time being,” said Arlo, “we’re rid of them all. I’d bet a mule those Mexican owl-hoots know some places to hole up where there’s water.”
     
    “You know,” Dallas said, “the more I think about that horizon Hoss drew, the more I doubt the mine is actually in the Superstitions. Look at all the nearby peaks out there to the east. That arrow on the map could be aimed at any one of them.”
     
    “It could,” replied Arlo, “and probably is. Come sundown I think we’ll do some looking toward those other peaks.”
     
    “There’s Weaver’s Needle,” Dallas said. “Hoss had names for them all, but that’s the only one I remember.”
     
    When Arlo and Dallas returned to their hidden camp, Paiute was gone.
     
    “Wherever he is,” said Dallas, “he’s afoot. His mule’s still here.”
     
    “The last thing he’d do is give away the location of our camp,” Arlo said. “I’d not be surprised if he’s down yonder havin’ a look at that bunch that went down the mountain. Remember when he took us down that second passage? Must have been half a dozen other tunnels anglin’ off. Some of them maybe led to the foot of me mountain.”
     
    Barry Rust’s prediction proved all too true. When Davis and his companions reached the canyon below, they found an excellent campsite, but it was already taken. Beneath an overhanging shelf of rock, a cavern opened back into the foot of the mountain. The very floor of the passage was a stream of water that trickled for less man a hundred yards before vanishing into the sandyfloor of the canyon. Three men, including Yavapai and Sanchez, had been left with the animals, watering them from the runoff. The Mexicans said nothing. The other man carried a Hawken rifle, and it was he who spoke.
    “You folks ain’t welcome here. This is our camp. Move on.”
     
    “You don’t own this mountain or this water,” said Davis angrily.
     
    “Mister, my name is Edwards, and I’m talkin’ for us all. This here’s Arizona Territory, and a man can own any damn thing he’s got guts and guns enough to hang on to. Now all of you, git!”
     

Chapter 4
     
    Paiute entered the hidden cavern silently, seeming to step out of the wall where the water cascaded down. He dipped himself a handful of water, slaked his thirst, and sat down with his back to the stone wall.
    “It’s gettin’ late,” said Arlo. “Time we went out and had a look at the peaks to the east, now that the sun’s behind us.”
     
    Dallas and Arlo paused a few yards shy of the mountaintop, listening. Hearing nothing untoward, they climbed out of the crevice and looked around. Far to the west there was a rumble of thunder, and the rising wind was cool to their faces.
     
    “Storm buildin’,” remarked Dallas. “Thunderheads could roll in and steal the sunset.”
     
    “We’ll wait a while,” Arlo said. “We have nothing else to do.”
     
    They positioned themselves where the western rim rose like a parapet behind them. The westering sun descended until the crimson disk seemed to rest atop the stone rim. It shone on the peaks east of the Superstitions, leaving the lower elevations in the shadow of the coming darkness. Dallas and Arlo watched, uncertain as to what they were seeking. Only seconds away from losing the sun entirely, the cowboys froze, speechless.
     
    “My God,” Arlo breathed, “there it is!”
     
    So slowly did the image appear, and so soon did it vanish, it might have been only a shadow, a trick of the imagination. But in the final seconds before the sun slipped away, the image was clear to both of them. Thenit darkened, faded, and finally disappeared. Arlo and Dallas looked at one another in awe. For just a few unbelievable seconds, in the dying rays of the setting sun, they had seen the shadowy but