"I'm thinking of Pogosa--"
He shrugged his shoulders. "There's grub and shelter handy. She can come
down any time and feed."
"Yes, but I hate to think of her all alone. She may be worse."
"Send Eugene back. We don't need him now."
Wetherell was almost as eager to go on as Kelley, but could not banish
the pathetic figure of Pogosa so easily. Now that all signs pointed to
the actual mine, his blood was fired with passion for the gold.
"Eugene, go back and wait for us. See that Pogosa is comfortable. We'll
return by dark."
The word "dark" sent a shiver through Eugene. He shook his head. "No.
I'm afraid. Spirits come again."
"Come on," said Kelley. "You can't make him do that. If we hurry we can
get down to the other lake and back by sunset. The squaw will take care
of herself. She's used to being alone--besides, the spirits are with
her."
With the hope that it was not far, Wetherell yielded and set off down
the slope, following the bank of the stream. Soon the other lake could
be seen not far below them, and, slipping, sliding amid a cascade of
pebbles, the gold-seekers, now glowing with certainty of success,
plunged straight toward the pool. Two or three times this precipitous
method of descent led them into blind alleys from which they were
obliged to climb, but at last, just as the sun went behind the imperial
peak, they came out upon the shore of the little tarn which lay
shallowly over a perfectly flat floor of cream-colored sand.
"Here we are," called Kelley. "Now if your ghost proves a liar, Pogosa
must answer for it. Here is the rocky ridge on the east--"
"And here is trail," called Eugene, pointing to a faint line leading
straight into the pines.
Wetherell spurred his horse into this trail, and in less than five
minutes came upon the mine. It was not a shining thing to look at, so he
did not shout. It was merely a cavernous opening in a high ledge of dark
rock. On one side stood the sunken and decaying walls of a small log
hut. The roof had fallen in, and vines filled the interior. In front of
the door and all about, lumps of reddish, rusty-looking rock were
scattered. A big stone hollowed in the middle showed that it had been
used as a mortar for crushing the ore. The tunnel itself was irregular
in shape and almost high enough to admit a horse. It dipped slightly
from the threshold.
Tall Ed spoke first, in a tone of suppressed excitement. "Well, let's
see what she's like."
"I trust Pogosa. Up goes our poster," replied Wetherell.
"All right. You put up the sign while I examine this ore."
With his hatchet Wetherell set to work hewing a square face on a tree.
He was putting the first tack in his placard when Kelley walked over
toward him, and with exaggeratedly quiet voice said:
"Just look at that, will you?"
Wetherell took the lump of ore and thrilled to the sight. It needed no
expert to discern the free gold which lay in thin scales and sparkling
lumps all through the rock.
"I want to yell," said Kelley, and his voice trembled.
"Don't do it!" said Wetherell. "Let's hurry back to camp and move down
here. I won't feel safe till we do."
"I don't leave this place to-night, Andy. You and Eugene go back to
camp. I'll stay here and hold down the find."
Wetherell, tremulous with excitement and weak in the knees, remounted
his horse and set off for camp. It was a long climb, and the latter part
of it tedious by reason of the growing darkness and the weariness of the
horses. Wetherell's pony would not lead and was fairly at the end of his
powers, but at last they reached their camping-place. Wetherell's first
thought was of Pogosa. She was nowhere in sight and her tepee was empty.
"She on hill," declared Eugene. "Lying down on stone. Injun cry there
three days."
"The poor old thing! She'll be famished and chilled to the bone. It's a
shame, our leaving her alone this way. But that's the way of the man in
love with gold. Greed destroys all that is tender and loyal in a man. I
am going right up and bring her down. Eugene, you start a fire and put
some coffee on to boil."
With a heart full of pity the repentant gold-seeker hurried toward the
cairn. The crumpled little figure, so tragic in its loneliness and
helpless grief, was lying where he had left it. She did not stir at the
sound of his footsteps, nor when he laid his hand softly on her
shoulder.
"Come, Pogosa," he said, with gentle authority. "Come, coffee, fire
waiting. We found the mine. You're rich. You shall go back to your
people. Come!"
Something in the feel of her shoulder, in the unyielding rigidity of her
pose, startled and stilled him. He shook her questioningly. She was
stark as stone. Her body had been cold for many hours. Her spirit was
with Iapi.