Ridicule could not affect him, and out of pity for his suffering
Wetherell invited him to make down his bed in the doorway of his own
little tent.
"I hope gran'ma won't have another fit in the middle of the night," said
Kelley, sleepily. "If she does, you can interview her alone. I'm dead to
the world till dawn."
Nothing happened after this save that an occasional nervous chill
overcame Eugene and caused him to call out, "What's that?" in a
suppressed tone. "You hear 'em voice?" he asked several times; to all of
which Wetherell replied, "It is the wind. Lie down; it is only the
wind."
Musing upon the singular business in the deep of the night, Wetherell
concluded that Pogosa, in a moment of emotional exaltation, and
foreseeing her inability to guide him in person, had taken this method
of telling him truly where the mine lay.
A mutter of voices in Pogosa's tepee interrupted his thought. "She is
delirious again," he thought, but the cold nipped, and he dreaded rising
and dressing. As he hesitated he thought he could distinguish two
voices. Shaking Eugene, he whispered, "Listen, Eugene, tell me what is
going on in Pogosa's tent."
The half-breed needed no awakening. "She speak Sioux. I no speak Sioux.
Some Sioux man's talk with her. Mebbe so her husband."
Wetherell smiled and snuggled down in his bed. "All right, Eugene. If
Iapi is there he will take care of her. Good night."
* * * * *
Morning broke gloriously clear, crisp, and frosty. The insects were
inert. The air had lost its heat and murk. The sun struck upon the sides
of the tepees with cheerful glow, and all was buoyant, normal, and
bracing as the partners arose.
Hurrying to Pogosa's tepee, Wetherell peeped in. "I wonder if she
remembers her performance?" he asked himself, but could not determine,
since she refused to answer Eugene when he questioned her. She took the
food which Wetherell gave her, but did not eat or drink. Slowly she rose
and hobbled away over the frosty grass toward the grave of Iapi.
"That's a bad sign," observed Kelley. "What's she going to do now,
Eugene?"
"She's goin' put meat by stone. Mebbe so Injun spirits come eat."
"Well, she'd better absorb some of the grub herself."
"I think it's a beautiful act," professed Wetherell, lifting his
field-glass to study her motions. "She's happy now. She and her dead
sweetheart are together again."
"I know Iapi once," Eugene volunteered. "He big man, very strong. Good
rider. One spring all people hungry. No game. Ponies weak. Iapi say go
kill sheep. Washakie hear of killing sheep. Send warriors. Iapi here.
Make battle. Kill mebbe so four, six Injun. Kill Iapi. Washakie sorry
now. His spirit cry in trees last night."
"Better let Pogosa alone for the day. The sun is warming the rocks. She
is no longer cold. We can leave our camp here and scout around on our
own account, returning this afternoon."
They rode across the valley in the direction indicated by the Voice. It
was a bewildering maze into which the prospector must descend in search
of the gold which is marked in yellow letters on some maps of the state.
Several times did Wetherell drop into the basins, searching in vain for
the small lake and the black-walled bank of snow, but at last Eugene's
eye detected faint indications of a trail.
"We've struck the right road this time," exulted Wetherell. "Here is
the wall of black rocks." There was no snow, but he argued that, the
season having been extraordinarily warm and wet, this landmark had
temporarily disappeared.
"I am sure this is the lake and stream," declared Wetherell. "See where
the snow has lain."
"How far down do you figure the mine was?"
"Some miles below, near a second lake. I'm afraid we can't make it this
trip. It will be dark by the time we reach camp. We'll just mark the
spot and come back to-morrow."