not get to sleep at once. Dick, too, seemed to be wakeful. I heard him
stir, and opening my eyes, I saw him sitting up in bed with his arms
clasped around his blanketed knees, gazing at the fire. Suddenly, he
gave his leg a mighty slap with his open hand, and I heard him chuckle
to himself.

"What's the matter, Dick?" I whispered. "Got a flea?"

"No," he replied, laughing softly. "I've got an idea. Go to sleep, old
chap. I'll tell you in the morning."

CHAPTER XV

DICK'S SNAP SHOT

The sun rose late down in that deep crevice, and for that reason, added
to the lateness of the hour at which we had gone to bed, we did not wake
up next morning till after six o'clock. We found, however, that Pedro
had been up a couple of hours at least, for he had a good fire going,
had made everything ready to start breakfast, and moreover he had been
up on the mountain and had brought down Arthur's horse and his own burro
from the little valley where they had been left at pasture.

When I, myself, awoke, I found that Dick was ahead of me. He was
standing by the fire, warming himself--for the mornings were still
cold--and talking to Pedro, who, I guessed, was explaining something,
for he was waving his long arms energetically, first in one direction
and then in another.

"Well, Dick," said I, as we sat cross-legged on the ground, eating our
breakfast, "what is this idea of yours? Does it still look as favorable
as it seemed to do last night?"

"Better," replied Dick, with his mouth full of bacon. "A great deal
better. I felt pretty confident last night that I was on the way to earn
that half-interest in the Hermanos Grant, and this morning, since
talking with Pedro, I feel more confident still."

"Is that so?" cried Arthur. "I hope you're right. What is it you think
you have discovered?"

"In the first place," replied Dick, "I have discovered that we are a lot
of wiseacres: we have been going around with our eyes shut."

"How?" we both asked.

"If we hadn't had our heads so full of the old copper mine, and if we
hadn't been so bent on finding the trail to it, we should never have
made the mistake we did."

"What mistake?" I asked. "Hurry up, Dick! Don't take so long about it.
What are you driving at?"

"Why, this!" replied my partner, suddenly sitting up straight and
wagging his finger at us. "This trail we have been following, all the
way from Hermanos up to the edge of the cañon, was not a trail at
all--it was a ditch!"

"A ditch!" we both exclaimed.

"Yes, a ditch. A ditch dug by those old Pueblo Indians to carry water
down to that wide, level stretch of ground at the back of the _Casa_.
I'm sure of it. If you give up the idea of a trail and consider it as a
ditch, all its peculiarities will be explained at once. It will account
for its uniform grade, for its unexpected distinctness, and more than
everything else, it will account for the fact that the 'trail' never
once dipped down a hill or climbed one either, but
always--invariably--went round the head of every gully, deep or shallow,
that came in its way."

"Upon my word, Dick!" cried Arthur. "I believe you _have_ made a
discovery! I believe that it is the line of an old ditch, after all;
though the pack-trains doubtless used it as a convenient road as far as
the top of the cañon and then switched off down here by that shelf in
the wall."

"That's my idea," said Dick, nodding his head.

"But, look here, Dick," Arthur went on, after a moment's thoughtful
pause. "Suppose it is an old ditch--where did the water come from?
That's the question. A ditch without water isn't much use."

Dick laughed. "No," said he. "I understand that well enough. The water
came from this 'island,' up here above our heads, and was carried across
the cañon in a flume!"

"Ah!" I cried. "I see! What we at first supposed to have been a bridge
up there, built for the accommodation of the pack-trains, was in reality
a flume for carrying water."

"That's what I believe," replied Dick.

"Well, but see here, Dick," remarked Arthur again. "Suppose that there
was a flume there for carrying water--where's the water now? That's the
point. That's what I want to know."

"Ah!" replied my partner. "And that was what I wanted to know, too. That
was the very question that bothered me until I talked to Pedro about it
just now. I asked him if he had ever seen or heard of a stream of water
coming down from the top of this high land, and I can tell you he eased
my mind of a load when he told me he had. He says there is a good big
waterfall which jumps off the cliff on the north side of the 'island'
and falls into this stream we are camped upon now, but about twelve or
thirteen miles below this point, following the bends of the creek."

"Is that so? Then the chances are that that is the stream from which
the Pueblos used to get their water. Did you ask Pedro if he knew of any
way of getting up there?"

"Yes, I did, and I'm sorry to say he doesn't know of any. He says that
this 'island' is really an island, being compassed about on all sides by
cañons of varying depths; that it includes a large tract of country,
part mountain and part plain; and that to the best of his knowledge, no
man has ever set foot on it. In that, though, I'm pretty sure he's
mistaken. In fact, it is as certain as anything can be that there is a
way up somewhere, or else, how did the Pueblos get over there in the
first place? They didn't fly across this gorge; and yet they must have
worked from both sides at once when they built their flume."

"That's true. Well, Dick, it does look as though you had made a genuine
discovery, and one likely to be of great value. What's your idea, then?
You and Frank will stay here and hunt for the old Pueblo ditch-head, I
suppose, while I dig out for home by myself. I wish I could stay and
hunt with you, but there's no knowing how long it may take, and
meanwhile my father and mother will be worrying themselves to know what
has become of me. I've been here now a good bit longer than I intended.
I must get back at once and----"

"Look here, Arthur," Dick interrupted. "Excuse me for cutting in, but
I'd like to make a suggestion. There is just a possibility--I don't
expect it, I own, but there is a possibility--that if Galvez were
informed that you know how he came to be padron of Hermanos, and also of
his connection with the Espinosas, he might get scared and skip out of
his own accord--which would simplify matters for you very much. Now,
here's what I propose--if you really are bound to leave at once."

"Yes," Arthur interjected. "I mustn't stay a minute longer than I can
help."

"Well, then, I propose that before you go--it will only make a
difference of a couple of hours--before you go, Frank and I will ride
down to Hermanos, see old Galvez, tell him what you have told us, and
recommend him to take his departure. Perhaps he'll be scared and skip
out; but if he won't, why, then you'll know where you stand. How does
that strike you?"

"Hm!" muttered Arthur, doubtfully. "I don't much like the idea of
running you into danger. Galvez is such a treacherous fellow, there's no
knowing what he might do to you."

"That's true enough," said Dick; "though I don't think he would attempt
anything on two of us at once, and in broad daylight, too. It might be
to his advantage to get rid of you or Pedro or both, but he would surely
have sense enough to see that he wouldn't gain anything by hurting
either of us."

"That's a fact. Well, suppose you go, then. But be careful."

"We'll be careful," replied my partner. "You needn't worry yourself on
that account."

By this time we were ready to start, and accordingly we all rode
together up the ledge until we came out again at the point where the old
flume used to be--where we pointed out to Arthur the sockets in the
rock--and thence, continuing to the foot of the mountain, Dick and I,
leaving the others to wait for us, galloped off toward Hermanos.

By good fortune, as we approached the village, we saw Galvez himself
down near the creek, where he was directing three of his _vaqueros_ who
were engaged in cutting out cows from a bunch of wild Mexican cattle.

Further down stream, only a short distance from the houses, we noticed
half-a-dozen Mexican children, very busy making mud pies, quite
unconcerned, apparently, at the proximity of the herd of cattle. It
happened, however, that just as we came riding up to where Galvez sat on
his horse, shouting orders to his men, a gaunt, wild-eyed, long-horned
steer broke out of the bunch on the down-stream side. One of the cowmen
dashed forward to turn it, when, to his astonishment, the steer, instead
of running back into the bunch or attempting to dodge him, charged the
rider and knocked him and his little broncho over and over. Then, wildly
tossing its head, the beast made straight for the group of unsuspecting
and defenceless children.

"Loco! Loco!" shouted Galvez. "Rope him, one of you!"

The two other men galloped forward, swinging their lariats, but the
locoed steer, going like a scared antelope, had such a start that it
looked as though it would surely reach the children before the men could
catch it. Seeing this, Galvez pulled out his revolver and fired six
shots at it in quick succession. Whether he hit the steer or not, I
cannot say, but even if he did the range was too great for a revolver to
be effective--unless by a lucky chance.

The children, hearing the shots, looked up, saw the steer coming, and
scattered like a flock of sparrows--all but one of them, that is to say.
He, a brown-bodied little three-year-old, without a scrap of clothing
upon him except a piece of string tied round his middle, stood stock
still, with his little hands full of mud, seemingly too frightened to
move, and straight down upon this little bronze statue the crazy beast
went charging.

It looked as though a tragedy were imminent!

It was at this moment that my partner and I came riding up behind
Galvez, who, sitting on his horse with his back to us, his body
interposed between us and the steer, had not seen us yet. It was no time
for ceremony. Without wasting words in greetings or explanations, Dick
jammed his heels into his pony's ribs; the pony sprang forward; Dick
pulled him up short, leaped to the ground, threw up his rifle and fired
a snap shot. Down went the steer, heels over head, gave one kick and lay
dead--shot through the heart!

It was a grand shot! The three _vaqueros_, two on their horses and one
on foot, carried away by their enthusiasm, forgot for once their
habitual dread of the padron, and waving their hats above their heads
joined me in a shout of applause; while as for Galvez, himself, he sat
on his horse with his empty revolver in his hand, gazing open-mouthed
first at Dick and then at the dead steer, seemingly rendered speechless
for the moment.

At length he turned to me, who had come up close beside him, and said:

"Can he always do that?"

"Just about," I replied, with a nod. "He is one of the best shots in the
State."

"Hm!" remarked the padron, sticking out his lower lip and thoughtfully
scratching his chin with his thumb-nail; and though that was all he did
say, the muttered exclamation conveyed to me as much meaning as if he
had talked for five minutes.

That Dick's remarkable shot had made a great impression on him I felt
certain, and it was a matter of much satisfaction to me to think that it
had; for if at any time he should entertain the idea of resorting to
violence against any of us, the recollection of how that steer had
pitched heels over head would probably cause him to think again.

The whole episode had not occupied more than two minutes, at the end of
which time Galvez, recovering himself, turned to us and said, in his
usual gracious manner:

"Well, you two, what have you come back here for?"

"We have come down to speak to you," replied Dick, as he slipped another
cartridge into his Sharp's rifle. "We have just parted with Señor Blake
and El Tejon."

The padron scowled at the mention of the two names.

"Oh, you have, eh? Well, what then?" he asked.

"Señor Blake," my partner continued, "wished us to say that he has
learned how you came to be padron of Hermanos. Pedro has told him the
whole story--everything--the Espinosa business and all."

"Oh! And is that all?"

"That's all," said Dick.

The padron, I have no doubt, had been expecting some such communication
and had made up his mind beforehand what to say, for, after sitting for
a few seconds looking at Dick without a word, he smiled an unpleasant,
toothless smile, and said:

"That's all, is it? Well, you go back to your Señor Blake and tell him
that here I am and here I stay, and if he thinks that three beardless
boys and a shiftless, half-crazy peon can make me move, why, he's
welcome to try. There! That's all on my side." He started to ride off,
but after a few steps stopped again to add: "Except this:--I recommend
you two boys to get along back home as fast as you can and leave this
young Blake--if that is really his name--to manage his own affairs. You
may find it dangerous to be mixed up with them."

He said this in an aggressive, menacing tone; but I noticed, all the
same, that his eye wandered involuntarily toward the dead steer, and I
congratulated myself again on the lucky chance that had given Dick the
opportunity to show his skill with a rifle. Galvez, I was convinced,
would be exceedingly careful how he provoked a quarrel with any one who
could shoot like that.

"Very well, señor," said Dick. "We will deliver your message. That is
all we came for." And with that we turned round and rode away again.

In the course of an hour we were back at the foot of the mountain, where
we found Arthur sitting on the ground waiting for us.

"Well, what luck?" he cried. "What did Galvez have to say?"

We told him all about our interview with the padron, not forgetting the
episode of the wild steer, at hearing which Arthur expressed much
gratification.

"That was a very fortunate chance," said he. "Galvez may profess to
despise three beardless boys, but after seeing one of them shoot a
running steer at three hundred yards, I expect he will think twice
before he stirs up a fuss with them. It is just the sort of thing--and
the only sort of thing, too--to make an impression on a man like that.
What is your idea, Dick? Do you think he intends to stick it out, or was
he only 'bluffing'?"

"I don't know," replied my partner. "I'm afraid he means to hold on. But
though at present he puts on 'a brag countenance,' as the saying is,
when he has had time to reconsider he might change his mind and skip. My
impression is, though, that he means to hold on."

"I think so, too," said I. "What is Pedro's opinion?"

"Ah! Yes. Let us ask Pedro."

"Señores," said the Mexican, when Arthur had explained the whole matter
to him in Spanish, "the padron is a pig, a mule. He will not move."

"Then that settles it!" cried Arthur, jumping up, walking away a few
paces and coming back again. "I never really expected that Galvez would
move, though it was worth trying. So now I'll be off at once. As for
that old ditch-head, though I should have liked very much to stay and
help hunt for it, you three can, as a matter of fact, make the search
just as well without me. And whether you find it or whether you don't,
makes no difference in one way--the business of getting Galvez out of
Hermanos will have to proceed regardless of that or any other
consideration. We have two things to do, you see:--To turn out Galvez
and to find that ditch-head. The first is my business; the second is
yours; and the sooner I get about mine the better, if I am to give you a
clear title to your half-interest when you are ready to claim it."

"As to that," remarked Dick, "I don't think we ought to hold you to that
bargain. It was made more or less in joke, anyhow."

"No, no, it wasn't!" cried Arthur, emphatically. "Not a bit of it! I
meant it then and I mean it still. I'm quite content. You provide the
water and I'll provide the land, as I said. It's a fair bargain. I don't
want to be let off. But before I can perform my part of it I must prove
my own title, and as I can't do it at this end of the line I'll waste no
more time here, but get right back home as fast as I can and report the
conditions to my father."

"Well," said Dick, after a moment's thoughtful silence, "I believe you
are right. I believe that is the best way after all, unless----"

"Unless what?"

"Unless we abandon the whole thing."

"Abandon----!" cried Arthur; but he got no further, for Dick, holding up
his hand, said, laughingly:

"All right, old man! All right! You needn't say any more. I only
suggested it just to see what you would say. So you are determined to go
through with this thing, are you? Very well, then, you may count on us
to do our part if it's doable. Eh, Frank?"

I nodded. "We'll find that ditch-head," said I, "if we have to stay here
till snow flies."

"Good!" cried Arthur. "Then that does settle it. I'll be off this
minute. Bring my horse, Pedro: I'm going to start at once."

"Look here, Arthur," remarked Dick. "I think it would be a good plan if
Frank and I were to escort you to the other side of Hermanos. Galvez, I
expect, guessed what you were after when you first told him your name,
and now he'll be sure of it, and it might be pretty dangerous for you if
you should meet him alone; so we'll just ride part way with you and see
you safely started."

"Thanks," replied Arthur. "I shall be glad of your company. Well, let us
get off, then. Good-bye, Pedro. I expect you'll see me back here before
very long. _Adios!_"

Thus taking leave of the burly Mexican, Arthur started off, Dick and I
riding on either side of him.

Keeping about a mile to the north of Hermanos, we circled round that
village, and were making our way southeastward toward the Cactus Desert,
when we saw off to our right a great cloud of dust, and in the midst of
it a bunch of cattle accompanied by three men.

At first we were suspicious that Galvez might be one of them, but pretty
soon we discovered that they were the three _vaqueros_ we had seen that
morning. They, on their part, quickly detected us, when one of them
immediately turned his horse and came riding toward us.

As soon as he had come pretty close I saw that it was the one whose
horse had been knocked over by the locoed steer. This man, advancing to
Dick, pulled off his hat, and speaking with considerable feeling, said:

"I wish to thank the señor who shoots so straight. It was my little boy
who was in danger."

"Was it?" cried Dick. "I'm very glad, then, that I happened to make such
a good shot. The steer was locoed, of course."

"_Si, señor_," replied the man. "It happens sometimes. This one was very
bad. It should have been killed long ago, but the padron would not. I am
grateful to the señor, and if I can serve him at any time I shall be
glad."

"Thank you," said Dick. "What is your name?"

"José Santanna," replied the man.

"Well, José," continued Dick, "I'm much obliged to you for your offer,
and if I need your help at any time I'll come and ask you."

"_Gracias, señor_," replied the man; and with that he turned and
galloped after his companions.

"That's a good thing for us," remarked Arthur. "We may find it very
handy to have an ally in the enemy's camp. And now, you fellows," he
continued, "you may as well turn back. I'm safe enough now, and there is
no need for you to come any further. I hope it won't be long before you
see me back again. Meanwhile you'll search for that ditch-head, and if
there is anything you can do toward getting the water down, you'll go
ahead and do it. That's the plan, eh?"

"That's the plan," repeated my partner.

"Very well. Then, good-bye, and good luck to you!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE OLD PUEBLO HEAD-GATE

It was about two in the afternoon that we parted with our friend, and
wishing him the best of success, we watched him ride away until the
shimmering haze drawn by the heat of the sun from the surface of the
valley, finally obscured him from our view altogether. Then, turning our
ponies, we rode back up the mountain and once more descended to our
camp, where we found Pedro waiting for us.

As it was then too late to begin any fresh enterprise, especially one so
difficult as the attempt to climb the cañon-wall was likely to be, we
determined to postpone the expedition until next morning. In order, too,
that we might be in good fettle for the adventure, we went to bed that
night as soon as it got dark; no more late hours for us; late hours at
night not being conducive to clear heads in the morning--and it was more
than likely that clear heads might be very essential to the success of
the task in hand.

About an hour after sunrise we set off on foot down the left bank of
the stream, making our way along the steep slope of stone scraps, big
and little, which bordered its edge, and after a pretty rough scramble
we reached a spot about a mile below camp where Pedro had told us he
thought there was a possible way up--a narrow cleft in the rocky wall,
none too wide to admit the passage of the Mexican's big body--and
following the sturdy hunter, who acted as guide, we began the ascent.

There was no great difficulty about it at first, for the crevice, though
still very narrow, was not particularly steep. After climbing up about
three hundred feet, however, the ascent became much more abrupt, and
presently we came to a place where the bed of the dry watercourse was
blocked entirely by a smooth, water-worn mass of rock, twenty feet high,
filling the whole width of the crevice, and overhanging in such a manner
that even a lizard would have had difficulty in climbing up it.

We were looking about for some means of surmounting this obstacle, when
Pedro, who had stepped back a little to survey it, called our attention
to what appeared to be a number of steps, or, rather, foot-holes in the
rock about ten feet up, just above the bulge.

"Hallo!" cried Dick. "This looks promising. Those holes were made with
a purpose. I believe we've struck the original Pueblo highway after
all."

"It does look like it," I agreed. "But how are we going to get up
there?"

"Señor," said Pedro to Dick, "if you will stand on my shoulders, I think
you can reach those holes."

"All right," replied Dick. "Let's try."

It was simple enough. Dick easily reached the lower steps, which, it was
hardly to be doubted, had been cut for the purpose, and scrambled up to
the top. Then, letting down the rope we had brought for such an
emergency, he called to me to come up. With a boost from Pedro, and with
the rope to hold on by, I was quickly standing beside my partner, when
up came Pedro himself, hand over hand.

If this was really the road by which the Pueblos originally came up--and
from those nicks in the rock we felt pretty sure it was--it was the
roughest and by long odds the most upended road we had ever traveled
over. It was, in fact, a climb rather than a walk: we had to use our
hands nearly all the time.

We had come within a hundred feet of the top, when, looking upward, I
was startled to see on an overhanging ledge a large, tawny, cat-like
animal calmly sitting there looking down at us.

"Look there, Dick!" I cried. "What's that?"

"A mountain-lion!" exclaimed my partner. "My! What a shot!"

It happened, however, that we were at a point where it was necessary to
hold on with our hands to prevent ourselves from slipping back; it was
impossible to shoot. The "lion" therefore continued to stare at us and
we at him, until Dick shouted at him, when the beast leisurely walked
off and disappeared round a corner.

"Well!" remarked my companion. "I never saw a mountain-lion so calm and
unconcerned before. As a rule they are the shyest of animals."

"All the animals up here are like that," remarked Pedro. "Many times
since I have lived on the mountain I have seen them come down to the
edge of the cañon to look at me--deer and even mountain-sheep and
wolves; yes, many times wolves. They have no fear of man."

"That's queer," said I. "I wonder why not."

"Señor," replied Pedro, looking rather surprised at my lack of
intelligence, "it is simple: since the days of the Pueblos there has
been no man up here."

"Why, I suppose there hasn't!" cried Dick. "That didn't occur to me
before, either. It will be interesting to see how the wild animals
behave, Frank. It will be like Robinson Crusoe on his island."

He spoke in Spanish, as we always did when Pedro was in company, not
wishing him to feel that he was left out. It was Pedro who replied.

"I know not," said he, "the honorable gentleman, Señor Don Crusoe, of
whom you speak, but for ourselves we must have care."

"Why, Pedro. What do you mean?"

"The wolves up here are many, and they will surely smell us out."

"Well, suppose they do, Pedro. What then?" asked Dick, jokingly. "You
are not afraid of wolves, are you?"

This seemed a reasonable question, remembering how boldly he had faced
them that time at the head of the Mescalero valley.

"Most times I have no fear," replied Pedro, simply, "but up here it is
different. These wolves know not what a man is; they will smell us out,
and they will think only, 'Here is something to eat;' they do not know
enough to be afraid."

"I suppose that is likely," Dick assented. "You are quite right, Pedro:
we must take care. I don't suppose there will be anything to fear from
them during daylight, but we'll keep a sharp lookout, all the same. Come
on, let us get forward."

In another ten minutes we had reached the top, when, turning up-stream,
we presently came to the dry gully which led down to where the old flume
once stood. Thence, turning "inland," as one might say, we followed up
the bed of this gully, finding that it had its head in a little grassy
basin which looked as though it had once been a small lake. In crossing
this basin we stirred up from among the bushes a band of blacktail deer,
which ran off about fifty yards and then stood still to look at us;
these usually shy animals being evidently consumed with curiosity at the
sight of three strange beasts walking on their hind legs. Undoubtedly,
we were the first human beings they had ever encountered.

We did not molest them, but pursuing our course across the little
basin, we were about to proceed up a narrow, stony draw at its further
end, when a sudden scurry of feet behind us caused us to look back. The
band of deer had vanished, and in their stead were four wolves, which,
when we turned round, drew up in line and stood staring at us!

As Dick had said, the wild animals up here were making themselves
decidedly "interesting."

Pedro had an arrow fitted to his bow in an instant, while Dick and I
simultaneously cocked our rifles and stood ready. The wolves, however,
remained stationary; it was evidently curiosity and not hunger that
inspired them. Seeing this, I picked up a pebble and threw it at them,
just to see what they would think of it. The stone struck the ground
close under their noses, making them all start, passed between two of
them and went hopping along the ground, when, to our great amusement,
the whole row of them turned, ran after the stone, sniffed at it, one
after the other, and then came back to the old position. It looked so
comical that Dick and I burst out laughing; whereupon the wolves, who
had doubtless never heard such a sound before, retreated a few paces,
where they once more turned round to stare at us.

"Well, Pedro!" cried Dick. "They don't seem to be very dangerous. If all
the wolves up here are like that we needn't be afraid of them."

"They are not hungry just now," replied Pedro, so significantly that our
merriment was checked; "and you see for yourselves," he added, "that a
man is a new animal to them. They know not what to make of us. It is
that which makes me uneasy. A big pack of hungry wolves would be very
dangerous, for the reason that they have never learned that we are
dangerous, too. For me, I am afraid of them."

Such an admission, coming from such a man, one who, we knew, was not
lacking in courage, was impressive; so, in order that he should not
regard us as merely a pair of careless, light-headed boys, Dick assured
him in all earnestness that we had no intention of treating the matter
lightly; that we fully understood and agreed with his view of the
matter.

"You are quite right, Pedro," said he. "We can't afford to be careless.
A pack of wolves is dangerous enough when you know what to expect of
them, but when you don't----! It will pay us to be careful, all right;
there's no doubt about that. Come on, now. Let us get ahead. Those
beasts back there have gone off--to tell the others, perhaps."

Proceeding up the stony draw for about half a mile, we presently came
upon a most unexpected sight:--a little lake, covering perhaps a space
of twenty acres, its surface, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the trees
and rocks surrounding it, and dotted all over with hundreds of wild
ducks and geese.

"Here's the head of the ditch!" cried Dick, exultingly. "Here's where
the Pueblos got their water! They drew from this lake down the gully we
have just come up. The mouth of the draw has been blocked by the caving
of the sides, you see, but it will be an easy job to dig a narrow trench
through the dam, and then the pitch is so great that the water will soon
scour a channel for itself. Don't you think so, Pedro? The water must
have run down here, filled the grassy basin where the deer were, flowed
out at its lower end down the gully to the flume, and then by the ditch
over the foothills to the valley. Wasn't that the way of it, Pedro?"

It was natural that Dick should address his question to the Mexican
rather than to me, for Pedro, one of a race that had followed
irrigation for centuries, knew far more of its practical possibilities
than I did, and his opinion was infinitely more valuable than mine was
likely to be. In reply, he nodded his big head and said, gravely:

"That is it. It is not possible to doubt. The Pueblos drew their water
from the lake at this point. That is very sure. But----"

"But what?" asked Dick.

"This lake is small, and I see nowhere any stream coming into it,"
replied Pedro.

"That's a fact," Dick assented. "Perhaps it is fed by underground
springs. Let us walk round the lake and see where the water runs out and
how much of a stream there is. That is what concerns us. Where it comes
from doesn't matter particularly--it's how much of it there is."

Our walk round the little lake, however, resulted in a disappointment
which staggered us for the moment. There was no outlet. The lake was
land-locked; the one insignificant rivulet we found running into it
being evidently no more than enough to counterbalance the daily
evaporation.

"Well," remarked Dick, after a long pause, "there is one thing sure:
the Pueblos never built a flume and dug that big, long ditch to carry
this trifling amount of water. This lake, after all, was not the source
of supply, as we were supposing. It was a reservoir, perhaps, but
nothing more. The real source was somewhere higher up."

If Dick was right--and there could be hardly a doubt that he was--the
most promising direction in which to continue our search would be on the
west side of the lake, whence the little rivulet came down. An
examination of the ravine in which the stream ran showed evidence that
it had at one time carried much more water than at present, so, with
hopes renewed, we set off at once along its steep, stony bed.

The country on that side was very rough and precipitous, and the ravine
itself, reasonably wide at first, became narrower and narrower, and its
sides more and more lofty, until presently it became so contracted that
we might have imagined ourselves to be walking up a very narrow lane
with rows of ten-story houses on either side. The sky above us was a
mere ribbon of blue.

After climbing upward for about half a mile, we began to catch
occasional glimpses ahead of us of a frowning cliff which bade fair to
bar our further progress altogether, and we were beginning to wonder
whether we had not chosen the wrong ravine after all, when suddenly,
with one accord, we all stopped short and cocked our ears. There was a
sound of running water somewhere close by!

There was a bend in the gorge just here, and we could not see ahead, but
the instant we detected the sound of water, Dick, with a shout, sprang
forward, and with me close on his heels and the short-legged Pedro some
distance in the rear, dashed up the bed of the ravine and round the
corner.

What a wonderful sight met our gaze! Out of the great cliff I mentioned
just now there came roaring down a magnificent stream, which, falling
into a deep pool it had worn for itself in the rocks, went boiling and
foaming off through a second ravine to the right--a fine thing to see!

But what was finer, and infinitely more interesting, was the original
Pueblo head-gate, so set in the narrow gorge in which we stood that the
water, which, if left to itself, would have flowed down our ravine, was
forced to run off through the other channel.

It was a remarkable piece of work for such a primitive people to have
performed, considering especially the very inferior tools they had to do
it with. The walls of the gorge came together at this point in such a
manner that they were not more than five feet apart and were so
straight-up-and-down that they looked as though they had been trimmed by
hand--as possibly they had been to some extent. Taking advantage of this
narrow gap, the Pueblos had cut a deep groove in the rocks on either
side of the ravine, and in these grooves they had set up on end a great
flat stone about five feet high and three inches thick--it must have
weighed a thousand pounds or more.

Against this stone head-gate, on its inner side, the water stood four
feet deep, and it was obvious that when the gate was raised the flood
would go raging down the gorge we had just ascended into the little lake
below, leaving the bed in which it now ran high and dry.

Undoubtedly, it was this stone door with which the Pueblos used to
regulate their water-supply, prying it up and holding it in position,
perhaps, with blocks of wood, which, after the Indians deserted the
valley, had in time rotted away, allowing the gate to fall, thus
shutting off the water entirely.

However that may have been, one thing at any rate was
certain:--Whenever our flume and our ditch were ready, here was water
enough for thousands of acres only waiting to be let loose.

For a long time Dick and I stood with our hands resting on the top of
the head-gate and our chins resting on our hands, watching the water as
it went foaming and splashing down the other ravine, and as we stood
there, there came over us by degrees a sense of the real importance to
us of this discovery. We were only boys, after all, and we had gone into
this enterprise more or less in the spirit of adventure, but now it
gradually dawned upon us that we had in reality arrived at a point where
the roads forked:--Here, ready to our hands, was work for a lifetime,
and we had to decide whether we were going into it heart and soul or
whether we were not. Every boy arrives at this fork in the roads sooner
or later, and when he does, he is apt to feel pretty serious. I know we
did.

With us, however, the question seemed to settle itself, for Dick,
presently straightening up and turning to me, said:

"Frank! What will your Uncle Tom say? Will he be willing that you should
stay out in this country and take to wheat-raising and ditch-building
and so forth?"

"If I know Uncle Tom," I replied, "he'll be not only willing but
delighted. If we make a success of this thing--as we will if hard work
will do it--just imagine how proudly he will point to us as proofs of
his theory that a fellow may sometimes learn more out of school than in
it. In fact, if I'm not much mistaken, he will be eager to help; and if
we need money for the work, as we certainly shall, I shan't hesitate to
ask him for it. I shall inherit a little when I come of age, and I'm
pretty sure Uncle Tom will advance me some if I need it. But how about
the professor, Dick? How will he fancy the idea of your settling down in
this valley? For if we _do_ go into this thing in earnest, that is what
it means."

"I know it does," replied my companion, seriously. "And I'm glad of it.
I'll let you into a little secret, Frank. For some time past the
professor has been worrying himself as to what was to become of me: what
business or occupation I was fit for with my peculiar bringing-up--for
there is no getting over the fact that it has been peculiar--and the
professor, considering himself responsible for it, has been pretty
anxious about the result. Now, here is an occupation all laid out for
me, and nobody will be so pleased to hear of it as the professor. It
will take a burden off his mind; and I'm mighty glad to think it will."

"I see," said I. "I should think you would be: such a fine old fellow as
he is. So, then, Dick, it is settled, is it, that we go ahead? What's
the first move, then?"

"Why, the first move of all, I think, is to get back to the lake and eat
our lunch, and while we are doing so we can consult as to what work to
start upon and how to set about it. What time is it, Pedro?"

"Midday and ten minutes," promptly replied the Mexican, casting an eye
at the sun; while I, pulling out my watch, saw that he had hit it
exactly, as he always did, I found later.

"Then let us get back to the lake," said Dick. "Hark! What was that? The
water makes so much noise that I can't be sure, but it sounded to me
like wolves howling."

Pedro nodded his big head. "It will be well to go down to where there
are some trees," said he. "This arroyo, with its high walls, is not a
good place."

As we walked down the ravine and got further away from the water, we
could hear more distinctly the cry of the wolves. Pedro stopped short
and listened intently.

"There is a good many of them," said he. "I think they come hunting us.
Let us get up on this rock here and wait a little."

In the middle of the ravine lay a great flat-topped stone, about six
feet high, and to the top of this we soon scrambled--there was plenty of
room--and there for a minute or two we waited. The cry of the hunting
wolves grew louder and louder, and presently, around a bend a short
distance below, loping along with their noses to the ground, there came
a band of sixteen of them. At sight of us they stopped short, and
then--showing plainly that they knew of no danger to themselves--with a
yell of delight at having run down their prey, as they supposed, they
came charging up the ravine!

CHAPTER XVII

THE BRIDGE

As the pack came racing up the gulch, we waited an instant until a
narrow place crowded them into a bunch, when Dick called out, "Now!" and
we all fired together into the midst of them. Three of the wolves fell,
two dead--I could see the feather of Pedro's arrow sticking out of the
ribs of one of them--and one with its back broken.

I had hoped that the strange thunder of the rifles would send them
flying--but no. They all stopped again for a moment, and then, maddened
seemingly at the sight of the broken-backed wolf dragging itself about
and screeching with pain--poor beast--they all fell upon the unfortunate
creature and worried it to death. Then, with yells of rage, on they came
again.

The pause had given us time to re-load. Dick and Pedro, quicker than I,
fired a second shot, and once more two wolves fell writhing among the
stones. The next moment we were surrounded, and for a minute or two
after that I was too much engaged myself to note what the others were
doing.

A gaunt, long-legged wolf sprang up on the rock within three feet of me.
I fired my rifle into his chest. Another, close beside him, was within
an ace of scrambling up when I hit him across the side of his head a
fearful crack with the empty rifle-barrel and knocked him off again.
Then, seeing a third with his feet on top of the rock, his head thrown
back in his straining efforts to get up, I sprang to that side, kicked
the beast under his chin and knocked him down.

Meanwhile my companions had been similarly engaged and similarly
successful. Pedro in particular, having dropped his bow and taken in one
hand the short-handled ax he always carried with him, while in the other
he held his big sheath-knife, had laid about him to such effect that he
had put four of the enemy out of the fight--two of them permanently.

Dick was the only one who had received any damage, and that was to his
clothes and not to himself. His rifle being empty, he had used it to
push back the wolves as they jumped up. In doing so he had stepped too
near the edge of the rock, and one of the watchful beasts, springing up
at that moment, had caught the leg of his trousers with its teeth,
tearing it from end to end and coming dangerously near to pulling my
partner down. Pedro, however, quick as a flash, had delivered a
back-handed "swipe" with his ax at the wolf's neck, nearly cutting off
its head, and Dick was saved. It was an unpleasantly close thing,
though.

It was a short, sharp tussle, and at the end of it nine of the sixteen
wolves lay scattered about the bed of the ravine, dead or helpless. This
seemed to take the fight out of the remaining seven--as well it
might--who retreated down the arroyo, turning at the corner and looking
back at us with their lips drawn up and their teeth showing, seeming to
convey a threat, as though they would say, "Your turn this time--but
just you wait a bit."

Such unexpected fierceness and such determination on the part of the
wolves--by daylight, too--scared me rather; Dick also, I noted, looked
pretty sober, as, turning to the Mexican, he said:

"You were right, Pedro: these wolves _are_ dangerous--a good deal more
so than I had supposed. Our chances would have been pretty slim if we
hadn't had this rock so handy. If this sort of thing is going to happen
at any time, day or night, it will add very much to the difficulty of
the work up here. We shall have to be continuously on the lookout; it
won't do to separate; and wherever we are at work, we shall have to
prepare a place of refuge near at hand. I don't like it. I've seen
wolves by the hundred, but I never saw any before so savage and so
persistent as these. I tell you, I don't half like it."

"And I don't either," said I, glad to find that I was not the only one
to feel uneasy. "Did you notice, Dick, how thin they all were? I've
often heard the expression, 'gaunt as a wolf,' and now I know what it
means. They seemed half-starved."

"That is it, senor," remarked Pedro. "The wolves up here are very
many--too many for the space they have. Here they are, the cañons all
round them, they cannot get away. All the time they are half-starved,
all the time they hunt for food, all the time they are dangerous. Often
in winter they eat each other. It is well if we move away from here.
Pretty soon there will come another pack to eat up these dead ones."

"Let us get out, then!" I cried. "I've had enough of them for one day!"

The others were quite ready to move, so, jumping down from our fortress
we started along the ravine again, this time keeping our ears wide open
for suspicious sounds, and feeling a good deal relieved when, on the
edge of the lake, we sat down to our lunch with an old low-branching
pine tree close by, up which we could go in a jiffy if need be.

But though the presence of so many wolves on the "island" was something
we had not anticipated, something, moreover, which was likely to add
very much to the difficulty of our undertaking, we did not for a moment
contemplate its abandonment. It meant the use of great caution in going
about the work, but as to backing out, I do not think the idea so much
as occurred to either of us.

As soon as we had sat down to our lunch, therefore, we began the
discussion of the best method of procedure.

"It is a big undertaking, Dick," said I, "a very big undertaking; but it
looks like a straightforward piece of work; and it seems to me that what
has been done once can certainly be done again, especially as we have
our line already laid out for us. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, I certainly think so," replied my partner. "What those Pueblos
accomplished with their poor implements, we can surely do again with
our superior tools. And some of it, at least, we can do ourselves, I
believe--with our own hands, I mean. When it comes to digging out the
ditch on the other side of the cañon, it will pay us to hire Mexicans;
but the preliminary work of bringing the water down to the cañon, and,
perhaps, the building of the flume, I believe we can do ourselves."

"The building of the flume," said I, "is likely to be a pretty big job
by itself. We can undoubtedly get the water down that far--that is
simple--but the building of the flume is quite another thing. A small
flume won't do; it has to be a big, strong, solid structure, and it
strikes me that the very first thing to be done--the laying of the two
big stringers across the cañon--is going to take us all we know, and a
trifle over. In fact, I don't see myself how we are to do it."

"I think I do," rejoined my partner; "but we shall need tools for the
purpose. We can't build a big, solid flume with one pick, one shovel and
two axes."

"No, we certainly can't," I replied.

"We shall need, too, a large amount of lumber," continued Dick, "heavy
pieces, besides boards for floor and sides--two inch planks, at
least--three inch would be better. We shall need several thousand feet
altogether."

"Well?"

"Well, there is no lumber to be had nearer than Mosby, and to bring it
from Mosby is out of the question. In the first place it would cost too
much; and in the second place it is too far to pack it on mule-back."

I nodded. "You mean we shall have to cut it out ourselves, here on the
spot."

"Yes; and to do that we shall need a long, two-handled rip-saw, and a
saw-pit to work in. Besides this, the other tools we shall require, as
far as I can think of them on the spur of the moment, are two or three
pulley-blocks for placing the big timbers, hammers, nails, cross-cut
saws and a big auger; for I propose that we pin the heavy parts together
with wooden pins: it will save the carriage on spikes, and be just as
good, if not better. Don't you think so, Pedro?"

Pedro approved of the idea, and we were about to continue the
discussion, when there broke out a great yelling and snarling of wolves
up the arroyo. Dick and I sprang to our feet, and instinctively cast an
eye up into the adjacent tree in search of a convenient limb; but
Pedro, unconcernedly continuing his meal, remarked:

"It is only that they eat the dead ones."

"Well, they're a deal too close to be pleasant," said Dick. "I vote we
move on down to the cañon and get a little further away from them."

As I was heartily of the same opinion, we moved down accordingly, and
there on the brink of the gorge surveyed the scene of our future labors.

"Look here," said Dick. "Here's where we shall have to cut our
timbers--on this side. See what a splendid supply there is right at
hand."

He pointed to a scar on the mountain close by where a landslide had
brought down scores of trees of all sizes.

"When did that come down, Pedro?" he asked.

"Only last spring, señor," replied the Mexican. "And the trees are sound
and good."

"Mighty lucky for us," continued my partner; "for, you see, on the other
side trees are scarce and they average rather small. But on this side,
there are not only seasoned trees of all sizes in abundance, but it will
be a down-hill pull to get them into place--a big item by itself.
Besides that, just back here on this little level spot we can dig our
saw-pit very conveniently. The only question to my mind is, whether we
should not move our camp over to this side. If it were not for the
wolves I should certainly say, 'Yes'; but as it is, I feel rather
doubtful. The nearest water is up there at the lake, and if we did move
over to this side that is where we should have to make our camp."

"It's a long way up to the lake, Dick," said I, "and it might be
dangerous going to and from our work--especially going back in the
evening. In fact, it might easily happen that we couldn't get back at
all."

"That's what I was thinking of," replied my partner.

"On the other hand," I continued, "if we keep our present camp, it will
be very inconvenient, and will waste a great deal of time, to come to
our work every day by way of those stone steps we climbed this morning."

"Yes, that's it. But there's yet another way which, I think, would get
us over both difficulties; one which would combine all the advantages
and at the same time do away with the danger--or, to say the least, the
inconvenience--of being harried by the wolves, and that is to build a
bridge here. Then, if we move our camp to that little 'park' just below
here, where we found that spring yesterday, it would only take us five
minutes in the morning to come up here, cross the bridge and go to work.
How does that strike you? What do you think, Pedro?"

"It is good," replied Pedro. "First thing of everything a bridge; and
that is easy. We make it to-day before the sun set."

"We do, do we?" cried Dick, laughing. "That will be pretty expeditious;
but if you think you know how, Pedro, go ahead and we'll follow."

Pedro's eye twinkled. "The señor means it?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied Dick.

"_Bueno_," said Pedro, briefly.

There was a little pine tree growing just on the brink of the chasm, and
without another word the Mexican drew his ax from his belt, stepped up
to the tree and cut it off about four feet from the ground, allowing the
top to fall from the precipice into the stream below.

"What's that for, Pedro?" I asked, in surprise.

Pedro grinned. "I show you pretty quick," said he. "Come, now. We go
back to the other side."

Though we could not fathom his plan, having voluntarily made him captain
for the time being we could not do less than obey orders; so away we
went at a brisk walk back to the crack in the wall, down the steps in
the rock, along the bank of the creek to camp--where we picked up our
own ax--then up the ledge to the point opposite the one we had just
left--a two-mile walk to accomplish thirty feet.

Here, the first thing Pedro did was to take his lariat, a
beautifully-made rawhide rope strong enough to hold a thousand-pound
steer, tie a stone to one end and throw the stone across the cañon. I
could not think what he was doing it for, until I saw that he was
measuring the width. We made it about twenty-seven feet, its remarkable
narrowness being accounted for by the great overhang of the cliff on our
side.

[Illustration: "I COULD NOT THINK WHAT HE WAS DOING IT FOR."]

"Now," said Pedro, "we go up the mountain here a little way and cut some
poles. It is just close by up here."

We soon found the place, and there we cut off three poles about thirty
feet long and eight inches thick at the small end. These we trimmed
down to about the same thickness at the butt, and having roughly squared
them, we dragged them down to the edge of the gorge.

So far it had been a simple proceeding, but what puzzled me was how
Pedro proposed to lay these sticks across the cañon. This, too, as it
turned out, proved to be a simple matter, but its first step was one to
make your hair stand on end to look at, nevertheless.

It was now we found out why Pedro had cut off the little tree on the
other side. Taking his lariat, he swung the loop above his head a time
or two and cast it across the gorge. The loop settled over the
tree-stump, when the Mexican pulled it tight and then proceeded with
great care to tie the other end of the rope to a tree which stood very
convenient on our side.

What was he up to?

Dick and I stood watching him in silence, when he stepped to the edge of
the cliff, took hold of the rope with both hands, and swung himself off
into space!

My! It gave me cold shivers all down my back to see him hanging there
with nothing but that thread of a rope to prevent his falling on the
rocks a thousand feet below!

Motionless and breathless, Dick and I watched him as he went swinging
across, hand over hand--the rope sagging in the middle in an alarming
manner--and profound was our relief when he drew himself up and stepped
safely upon the opposite wall.

But though this tight-rope performance had given us palpitation of the
heart, Pedro himself appeared to be absolutely unaffected. With perfect
calmness and unconcern, he turned round and said in the most
matter-of-fact tone:

"Now undo the rope and tie it to the end of one of those poles."

As Pedro evidently regarded his feat of gymnastics as nothing out of the
common, we affected to look upon it in the same light, so, following his
directions, we tied the rope to one of the poles, when the Mexican began
pulling it toward him, we pushing at the other end. Presently the pole
was so far over the edge that it began to teeter, when Pedro called to
us to go slowly. Then, while we pried it forward inch by inch, Pedro
retreated backward up the gully until the end of the pole bumped against
the wall on his side, when he came forward, keeping the rope taut all
the time, lifted the pole and set its end on the rocks. The first beam
of our bridge was laid.

The other two poles we sent across by the same process, and then,
scraping a bed for them in the sand and gravel, we laid them side by
side, two with their butt-ends on our side, the other--the middle
one--reversed.

Pedro then took from his pocket a long strip of deer-hide with which he
bound the three poles together, when we, at his request, having once
more tied the rope to the tree, he laid his hand upon it, using it as a
hand-rail, and walked across to our side, where with a second buckskin
thong he bound the poles together at that end.

Next he walked back to the middle of the bridge, and holding the rope
with both hands, jumped up and down upon the poles, to make sure of
their solidity, and finding them all right, he went to the far end,
loosened the loop from the tree-stump, threw it across to us, and then,
without any hand-rail this time, walked back across the flimsy-looking
bridge to our side!

What a head the man must have had! The bridge at its widest did not
measure thirty inches, and yet the Mexican--barefooted, to be
sure--walked erect across that fearful chasm without a thought of
turning dizzy. I suppose he was born without nerves, and had never
cultivated any, as we more civilized people do by our habits of life.
For years he had lived out-of-doors, always at exercise, used to
climbing in all sorts of dangerous places, and what perhaps may have
counted for as much as anything else, he was one of the few Mexicans I
have known who abjured that habit so common among his people--the habit
of smoking cigarettes.

I know very well that I, though I did not smoke cigarettes either, and
though I thought myself pretty clear-headed, would never have dared such
a thing, unless under pressure of great and imminent danger.

"What did you untie the rope for, Pedro?" I asked. "Why not leave it for
a hand-rail?"

"Because the wolves will eat it," replied Pedro. "We will bring one of
your hempen ropes and tie there: the wolves will not trouble that."

"By the way, Pedro!" cried Dick. "How about those wolves? Won't they
come across the bridge?"

"I think not," the Mexican answered. "They are wary and suspicious--it
is the nature of a wolf--and I think they will fear to venture."

At that moment the sun set behind the peak, and as though its setting
had been a signal, there arose in three or four different directions the
howls of wolves. They were coming out for their nightly hunt.

"Señores," said Pedro, "we will see very soon if the wolves will cross
the bridge. It will not be long before they find our trail and then they
will come down here. Let us hide us and watch. Up here, behind these
rocks, is a good place."

A little way up the bank, only a few steps back from the edge of the
gorge, we lay down and waited. Presently, from the direction of the
lake, there suddenly arose a joyous chorus of yelps, which proclaimed
that our trail had been discovered. And not to us only was the "find"
proclaimed. A second pack, hearing the call, hastened to join the hunt,
hoping for a share in the spoil; we caught a glimpse of them as they
came racing down one of the slopes which bordered the gully. The
swelling clamor drew nearer and nearer, and pretty soon, with a rush of
pattering feet, the wolves appeared; there must have been thirty of
them.

Down to the edge of the cañon they came, and there they drew up. One of
them, a big, gray old fellow, the leader of one of the packs, probably,
advanced to the end of the bridge, sniffed at it and drew hastily back.
One after another, other wolves came forward, sniffed and withdrew. It
was evident that Pedro had guessed right: they dared not cross.

At this balking of their hopes they set up a howl of disappointment.
Poor things! I felt quite sorry for them. They were _so_ hungry; and yet
they dared not cross. Nevertheless, though I might feel sorry for them,
I was more than glad that they feared to venture, for against such a
pack as that our chances would have been small indeed.

"Señores," whispered Pedro, "I try them yet a little more. It is quite
safe. Stay you here and watch."

With that, taking his ax in his hand, he rose up in full view of the
pack and walked down to the end of the bridge.

Such an uproar as broke forth I never heard. Many of the wolves ran up
the banks on either side of the gully in order to get a sight of Pedro,
and every one of them, those in front, those behind and those on the
sides, lifted their heads and yelled at the man calmly standing there,
scarce ten steps away.

But they dared not cross.

One of them, indeed, crowded forward against his will by those behind,
was pushed out on to the bridge a little way, when, striving to get
back, his hind feet slipped off. I thought he was gone, but by desperate
scratching he succeeded in saving himself, when, rendered crazy by
fright and rage he attacked the nearest wolves, fought his way through
to the rear and fled straight away up the gully.

This seemed to settle the matter. The whole pack, as though struck with
panic, turned and pursued him. In ten seconds not one of them was to be
seen.

As Dick and I rose up from our hiding-place, Pedro came back to us.

"You see," said he, "we are quite safe."

"Yes," replied Dick. "It is evident we have nothing to fear from them on
this side--and I'm mighty glad of it. Well, let us get down to camp. I
think we've done a pretty good day's work, taking it all round, and I
shall be glad of a good supper and a good rest."

"So shall I," was my response. "And as to our day's work, Dick, I'm much
mistaken if it isn't by long odds the most important one to us that
either you or I ever put in."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BIG FLUME

As the first step in restoring the old Pueblo irrigation system, we
moved camp next morning as arranged. Packing our scanty belongings upon
old Fritz, we rode up the ledge, past the site of the proposed flume,
and down the mountain a short distance to a point between two of the big
claw-like spurs, where, two days before, in riding down to speak to
Galvez, we had come across a little spring which would furnish water
enough for ourselves and our animals.

Thence, walking back to the bridge, taking with us, besides our rifles,
the two axes and one of our long picket-ropes, Pedro first tied the
latter to the tree on our side, and then, taking the other end in his
hand, he walked across and fastened it to the stump on the far side.

It was now our turn to cross, and very little did either of us relish
the idea. Dick, who had volunteered to go first, took hold of the rope,
set one foot on the bridge, and then--he could not resist it--did just
what he ought not to have done:--looked down. The inevitable consequence
was that he took his foot off again and retreated a few steps.

"My word, Frank!" said he. "You may laugh if you like, but I'll be shot
if I'm going to walk across that place. Crawling's good enough for me."

So saying, he again approached the bridge, and going down on his hands
and knees, crawled carefully over.

For myself, I found it equally impossible to screw up my courage far
enough to attempt the passage on foot. In fact, even crawling seemed too
risky, so I just sat myself astride of the three poles and "humped"
myself along with my hands to the other side, where the grinning Pedro
gave me a hand to help me to my feet again.

It was ignominious, perhaps, to be thus outdone by an ignorant,
semi-savage Mexican; but, as Dick said, "You may laugh if you like": I
was not going to break my neck just to prove that I was not afraid--when
I was.

At that hour in the morning the wolves, I suppose, were all asleep. At
any rate we heard nothing of them. But knowing very well that they
might turn up again at any moment, we wasted no time in starting our
first piece of work, namely, preparing a place of refuge against them.

Choosing a spot on the level near the point where we expected to dig our
saw-pit, we cut a number of good, heavy logs, with which, after
carefully notching and fitting them, we erected a pen, seven feet high
and about ten feet square inside. It was the plainest kind of a
structure: merely four walls, without even a doorway; but as it was not
chinked it would be a simple matter for us to clamber up and get inside;
whereas, for a wolf to do the same--with safety--would be far from
simple with us waiting in there to crack him on the head with an ax as
soon as he showed it above the top log.

It may be that we were unnecessarily cautious in providing this refuge.
If the wolves should molest us--a contingency pretty sure to occur some
time or other--it was probable that we should hear them coming in time
to retreat by the bridge, which was not more than a hundred yards
distant. But on the other hand, if they should not give us timely notice
of their approach, it might be very awkward, not to say dangerous--for
Dick and me, at least.

"For Pedro it might be all right," was my partner's comment, "but for
us--no, thank you. I have no desire to be hustled across that bridge in
a hurry. Just imagine how it would paralyze you to try to crawl across
those poles, knowing that there was a wolf standing at the far end
trying to make up his mind to follow you. No, thank you; not for me.
We'll have a refuge here on 'dry land.'"

It was a long day's work, the building of this pen, for we were careful
to make it strong and solid; indeed, we had not yet quite finished it,
when, about four in the afternoon, we heard the first faint whimperings
of the wolves, a long way off somewhere. So, fearing they might come
down upon us before we were quite ready for them, we postponed the
completion of the job until the morrow, and re-crossing the bridge in
the same order and the same manner as before, we went back to camp,
where we spent the remaining hours of daylight in making things
comfortable for a lengthened stay.

To this end we built a little three-sided shelter of logs about four
feet high, the side to the east, facing down the mountain, being left
open. This we roofed with a wagon-sheet we had brought with us in place
of a tent, dug a trench all round it to drain off the rain-water,
covered the floor with a thick mat of pine-boughs, and there we were,
prepared for a residence of six months or more, if necessary.

"Now, Frank," said my partner, as we sat by the fire that evening, "we
have about got to a point where we have to have tools. One of us has got
to go to Mosby to get them, while the other stays here with Pedro. The
question is, which shall go. Take your choice. I'll stay or go, just as
you like."

"Then I think you had better go, Dick," I replied. "You know better than
I do what tools we shall need; you are far more handy at packing a mule
than I am; and besides all that, it will give you an opportunity to see
the professor."

"Thanks, old chap," said Dick, heartily. "That is a consideration. Yes,
I shall be glad to go, if you don't mind staying here with Pedro."

"Not a bit," I replied. "He's an interesting companion; and if one
needed a protector it would be hard to find a better one. No; I'll stay.
I don't at all mind it."

"Very well," said Dick. "Then I think I'll dig out the first thing in
the morning. It will take me, I expect, about six days: two days each
way and perhaps two days in Mosby. It depends on whether I can get the
tools there that I want."

"I should think you could," said I, "unless it is the big rip-saw."

"I don't think there'll be any trouble about that," replied my partner.
"Before the saw-mill came in, two or three of the mines used to cut
their own big timbers by hand, and I've no doubt the old saws are lying
around somewhere still. If they are, I'm pretty sure I can get one for
next-to-nothing, for, of course, they are never used now."

"There's one thing, Dick," said I, after a thoughtful pause, "which
makes me feel a little doubtful about your going alone, and that is lest
Galvez should interfere with you. If he caught sight of you, either
going or returning, he might make trouble."

"He might," replied Dick. "Though I don't much think he is likely to
trouble you or me. Anyhow, when I leave to-morrow, you can take the
glass and just keep watch on the village for an hour or so to see that
he doesn't make any attempt to cut me off. If he should, you can raise a
big smoke here to warn me and ride down to help."

"All right. I will. But how about when you come back?"

"Why, I'll arrange to leave The Foolscap, as we did before, at four
o'clock in the morning, which would bring me about half way across the
valley by sunrise. On the sixth morning, and every morning after till I
turn up, you can take the field-glass and look out for me. From this
elevation you would be able to see me long before Galvez could, and then
you might ride down to meet me."

"That's a good idea. Yes; I'll do that."

Our camp was so placed that we could not only see the whole stretch of
the valley between us and The Foolscap, but also the village and the
country beyond it for many miles, and for about two hours after Dick's
departure I sat there with the glass in my hand watching his retreating
figure, and more especially watching the village. For, though in reality
I had little fear that Galvez would attempt to play any tricks on him,
particularly after Dick's exhibition of rifle-shooting, I was not going
to take any avoidable chances.

At the end of that time, however, I rose up, put away the glass, and in
company with Pedro went over to the other side of the cañon, where we
first finished up the building of the pen, and then, picking out a big,
straight tree suitable for a stringer, I went to work upon it, trimming
off the branches, while Pedro with the shovel began the task of digging
out the saw-pit.

That evening, and each succeeding evening, just before the sun set, we
stopped work and retreated across the bridge in order to avoid any
trouble with the wolves, which, as a rule, did not come out in force
until about that hour. Once only during the time that Pedro and I were
at work there by ourselves did any of them venture on an attack. It was
a pack of about a dozen which came down on us one evening just before
quitting-time, but as we heard them coming, we retired into the pen,
whence I shot one of them before they had found out where we were;
whereupon the rest bolted.

I think the survivors of the fight in Wolf Arroyo--as we had named the
ravine where we had had our battle--must have imparted to all the others
the intelligence that we were dangerous creatures to deal with, for the
wolves in general were certainly much less venturesome than they had
been that first day. At night, though, they came out in droves, and
continuous were the howlings, especially when the wind was south and
they could smell us and our animals only a hundred yards away on the
other side of the cañon.

At sunrise on the sixth day, and again on the seventh, I searched the
valley with the glass to see if Dick was within sight, but it was not
until the morning of the eighth day that I saw him and old Fritz coming
along, not more than five miles away. He must have made a very early
start.

Jumping on my pony, I rode to meet him, while Pedro remained behind to
watch the village.

I was very glad to see my partner safely back again, and especially
pleased to hear the news he brought.

The professor, he told me, was delighted with the turn of events which
bade fair to provide Dick with a settled occupation, and one so well
suited to his tastes and training; while as to Uncle Tom, Dick had
written to him an account of the present condition of the King Philip
mine, and had given him a full description of the undertaking upon which
we proposed to enter. In reply, my genial guardian had sent to me a
characteristic telegram, delivered the very morning Dick left Mosby. It
read thus:

"Go ahead. Money when wanted. How about book-learning now?"

"How's that, Dick?" said I, handing it over to my companion to read.

Dick laughed. "You made a pretty good guess, didn't you?" he replied.

It was a matter of intense satisfaction to both of us to find our
guardians so heartily in favor of the prosecution of our design, and it
was with high spirits and a firm determination to "do or die" that we
carried over the bridge the assortment of tools with which old Fritz was
laden, and that very afternoon went systematically to work.

It was not until we really went about it in earnest that we fully
realized the magnitude of the task we had set ourselves when we
undertook to build that flume. We were determined that if we did it at
all we would do it thoroughly well, and in consequence the timbers we
selected for the stringers were of such size and weight that we should
have been beaten at the word "go" if we had not had for an assistant a
man like Pedro, who combined in his own person the strength of five
ordinary men. It was a pleasure to see him when he put forth all his
powers. Give him a lever, and let him take his own time, and the most
obstinate log was made to travel sulkily down hill when Pedro took it in
hand.

After measuring with particular accuracy the space between the sockets
on either side of the gorge, we sawed off one big timber to the right
length, and getting it into position over the saw-pit we squared its two
ends and then sawed it flat on one side, leaving the other sides
untouched.

I had always understood that working in a saw-pit was a disagreeable
job, but not till I had practical experience of it did I discover how
correct my understanding had been. I discovered also why the expression,
"top sawyer," was meant to indicate an enviable position.

It fell to Pedro to be top sawyer, for the harder part of the work is
the continuous lifting of the saw; but for all that, the man below has
the worst of it, for if he looks up he gets a stream of sawdust into his
eyes, and if he looks down he gets it in the back of his neck. There is
no escape, as Dick and I found--for we took it in turns to go below and
pull at the saw-handle.

However, we were not going to shirk the task just because it happened to
be unpleasant, and being fairly in for it, we made the best of it.

Our first big timber being at length prepared, we got it down to the
edge of the cañon, and then were ready for the next move--the most
important move of all--getting it across the gorge. This could not be
done by main strength, as had been the case with our bridge-timbers, for
this stick, twenty-nine feet long and sixteen inches square, though
pretty well seasoned, was an immense weight.

But what could not be done by force might be accomplished by
contrivance. The most bulky part of old Fritz's load had been composed
of ropes and pulley-blocks, and it was with these that we intended to
coax our big stick across the gap.

Going over to the other side, we set up a framework of stout poles--a
derrick, we called it--to the top of which we attached a big pulley.
Threading a strong rope through this pulley, we carried it back and
fastened it to a windlass which Dick built; he having seen dozens of
them at work among the mines, having observed, fortunately, how they
were made, and being himself a very handy fellow with tools. The
windlass was securely anchored to two trees, when, the other end of the
rope having been carried over and tied to our big log, we were ready to
try the experiment of placing it athwart the chasm.

With this object, Dick and Pedro turned the windlass, while I, crossing
the bridge once more, pried the log forward from behind. It was a slow
and laborious operation, but inch by inch the great log went grating and
grinding forward, until at length its end overlapped the further edge of
the gorge. Soon, with a sullen thump, my end fell into its socket, when
Dick lowered his end into the socket opposite, and our first big
stringer was successfully laid.

It was a good start and greatly heartened us up to tackle the rest of
the work.

Our second big stringer we prepared and laid in the same manner--flat
side up--and then came the most ticklish job of all--the placing of the
two supports beneath each stringer. Without Pedro, with his steady
nerves and his cat-like agility, we could not have done it.

Tying a rope to the stringer, Pedro descended the face of the cliff and
set the butt-end of the supporting beam in its socket--the other end
being temporarily tied in place--repeating the same process on the other
side. These beams we had measured and prepared with great care, so that
when their bases were set, the beveled smaller ends, by persistent
pounding, could be tightly jammed into the notch previously cut for
their reception in the under side of the big stringer. It was a good
piece of work, and very thankful I was when it was safely accomplished;
for though to one with a clear head it might not be very dangerous, it
looked so, and I was, as I say, greatly relieved when it was done.

It might seem that we made these stringers unnecessarily strong, and
perhaps we did. But we intended to be on the safe side if we could. Our
flume was designed to be eight feet wide and five feet deep, and though
the pitch was considerable and the water in consequence would run fast,
if it should by chance ever fill to the top there would be by our
calculation thirty-three or thirty-four tons of water in it.

Having now our foundation laid, the rest of the work was plain,
straightforward building, in which there was no special mechanical
difficulty. One part of our task, however--the sawing of the lumber--we
soon found to be so slow that we decided, if we could get them, to
procure the assistance of two or three Mexicans from Hermanos, and with
that object in view we sought an interview with our friend, José
Santanna.

To do this we supposed we should have to go down to Hermanos, but on
consulting Pedro, we found that there was another and a much easier
way.

I had often wondered if Pedro, during all the years he had lived on the
mountain, had subsisted exclusively on meat, or whether he had some
means of obtaining other supplies, and now I found out. I found that he
had a regular system of exchange with the villagers, by which he traded
deer-meat and bear-meat for other provisions, and that by an arranged
code of signals, familiar to everybody in the village, with the single
exception of Galvez himself, he was accustomed to let it be known when
he desired to communicate with the inhabitants.

Accordingly, Pedro that day at noon went down to a certain spot on one
of the spurs, and there built a fire, and piling on it a number of green
boughs he soon had a column of smoke rising skyward. This was the
signal, and that same evening he and we two boys, going down to the same
spot, sat down there and waited, until about an hour after dark, we
heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and presently a man rode into sight.
It proved to be Santanna himself, much to our satisfaction.

He, as soon as he learned what we wanted, engaged to send us up three
stout young Mexicans, an engagement he duly fulfilled--to the rage and
bewilderment of Galvez, as we afterward heard, who could not for the
life of him make out what had become of them.

With this accession of strength we needed a second saw, and Dick went
off to Mosby to get one. In a few days he returned with two saws instead
of one, and with a load of dried apples, sugar and coffee with which to
feed our hungry Mexicans. Flour--of a kind--we could get from the
village, and deer-meat, though poor and tough at that season of the
year, we could always procure.

Dick also brought back with him that commodity so necessary in all
business undertakings--some money. The professor had insisted on
advancing him some, while Uncle Tom had enclosed fifty dollars in a
registered letter to me.

Thus armed, we procured two more Mexicans, and setting Pedro and his
five compatriots to work with the three saws, while Dick and I did the
carpenter work, we very soon began to make a showing.

As it was obviously too dangerous to attempt to work on the bare
stringers, we first laid a solid temporary floor of three-inch planks,
and having then a good platform we could proceed in safety to set our
big cross-pieces--upon which the permanent floor was afterward laid--and
to go ahead with the rest of the building.

There being no stint of timber, we could afford to make our flume
immensely strong--and we did. The framework was composed mostly of
ten-by-ten pieces, while the planks for the floor and sides were three
inches thick. The wings at each end of the flume were extended up stream
and down stream eight feet in either direction; and to prevent the water
from getting around these ends we built rough stone walls on the edge of
the gorge and filled in the spaces with well-tamped clay, of which we
were fortunate enough to find a great supply close at hand.

I do not intend to go into all the many details of the work, or to
relate our mistakes or the accidents--all of them slight,
fortunately--which now and then befell us. There was one little item of
construction, however, which seemed to me so ingenious and withal so
simple and so effective that I think it is worth special mention.

When we came to lay our floor and build the sides, the question of
leakage cropped up, when Dick suggested a plan which he said he had
heard of as being adopted by sheepmen on the plains in building
dipping-troughs.

Each three-inch plank, before being spiked in place, was set up on edge,
and along the middle of its whole length we hammered a dent about half
an inch wide and half an inch deep. Then, taking the jack-plane, we
planed off the projecting edges to the same level. The consequence was
that when the plank became water-soaked, this dented line swelled up and
completely closed any crack between itself and the plank above or beside
it. It was an ingenious trick, and proved so successful that it was well
worth the time and trouble it took.

In fact, by the expenditure of time and trouble, in addition to a very
modest sum of money, we did at length put together a flume which, I
think I may say, was a very creditable piece of work. It was strenuous
and unceasing labor, and at first it was pretty hard on me, but as my
muscles became used to the strain I enjoyed it more and more, especially
as every evening showed a forward step--a small one, perhaps, but still
a forward step--toward the accomplishment of our object.

Week after week we kept at it, steadily and perseveringly pegging away,
and at last, one day near the end of July, summoning our six Mexicans to
witness the ceremony, Dick and I, in alternate "licks" drove the last
spike, and the flume was finished!

CHAPTER XIX

PEDRO'S BOLD STROKE

All this time the wolves had let us alone. Frequently, toward evening,
we would detect them standing on the hillsides watching us, but they
were afraid to come near: the hammering and sawing, the stir and bustle
checked them and they kept aloof--by daylight.

Every night, though, they came down to the edge of the cañon to howl at
us, and as the flume neared completion there was danger that they might
summon courage to cross by it--the old bridge we had long ago tumbled
into the stream. To prevent this, we at first set up every night a
temporary gate across it, but later, we adopted a safer and better plan.
We set two doors in our flume, one in the down-stream end, the other in
the side, about the middle, so that by closing the former and opening
the latter, all the water could be made to fall into the stream below.
Our supply could thus be regulated at the flume instead of going all
the way up to the old head-gate for the purpose.

These gates being set, Pedro and another Mexican went up and opened
connection between the lake and the low place where we had stirred up
the deer the first day we were up there, and very soon there was a
second little lake formed. Then, the flume being ready, we two and Pedro
went up and raised the stone head-gate three inches. The rush with which
the water came out was astonishing, and before the day was over it had
come on down to the flume and was pouring through the side gate into the
gorge--making a perfect defence against the wolves.

During the two months, or thereabouts, that we had been engaged in this
work, Dick had made altogether three trips to Mosby, on which occasions
he had written to Arthur, detailing our progress. Arthur, on his part,
had written to us--or, rather, somewhat to our surprise, he had written
to the professor instead of directly to Dick--once from Santa Fé and
once from the City of Mexico, whither he had been sent to institute a
search of the records there. His last letter stated that up to that time
no trace of the old patent had been found, but that, in spite of that
drawback, his father was vigorously stirring things up at his end of the
line, and that we might expect to see "something doing" in the enemy's
camp at any time. He stated also that he had hopes of rejoining us some
time early in July.

In consequence, we had been constantly on the watch for him for nearly a
month, but here was the end of July approaching and no Arthur had
appeared.

As we were very anxious to know when to expect him, and as we were also
in need of new supplies, the moment the flume was finished Dick set off
once more for Mosby, while Pedro and I, transferring all our tools from
the far side of the gorge, picked out a new working-ground on our side.

There was nothing further to be done on the "island," but though the
flume was finished and ready for use, we still had need of a large
amount of lumber in the construction of our ditch, for at the head of
every draw it would be necessary to build a short flume, or, in some
places, a culvert, to allow a passage for the rain-water which otherwise
during the summer thunder-storm season would wash our ditch full of
earth and rubbish.

As it would be too inconvenient, unfortunately, to cut lumber in the
old place and carry it across the flume, we moved all the tools, as I
said, over to our side, and following along the line of the ditch for
about half a mile, we selected a spot above it on the mountain and there
set our Mexicans to work felling trees and digging new saw-pits.

From the place selected we could see out over the plain in all
directions; a fact which had been one of our reasons for choosing that
particular spot.

Indeed it had become a matter of great importance that we should be able
to keep a watch on the valley, for we believed we had more than ever
reason to fear some act of hostility on the part of the padron. Dick had
no more than gone that day, when we were surprised by receiving a
daylight visit from our friend, José Santanna, who informed us that
Galvez of late had been showing unwonted signs of unrest; that he was
growing more and more suspicious, irritable and evil-tempered. That the
evening before a man had ridden into the village and had handed Galvez a
paper--some legal notice, I guessed--upon receipt of which the padron
had at first broken into a towering rage; had then gone about for half
a day in a mood so morose and snappish that no one dared go near him;
and that finally he had ordered his horse and ridden away, saying that
he was going to Taos.

"To Taos!" I exclaimed. "What has he gone to Taos for?"

José shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands, palms upward, as
much as to say, "Who knows?"

"Have we scared him out after all, I wonder," said I. "Did he say
anything about coming back, José?"

"He said he would return in four days," replied the Mexican.

"And is that all you know about it?"

"_Si, señor_, that is all. I know no more."

From this conversation it was plain to me that the law was beginning to
work, and that Galvez was becoming uneasy. Knowing his character, I,
too, became uneasy, for, should he be rendered desperate, there was no
telling what tactics he might resort to. It was this consideration that
made me so anxious for the safe return of my two partners.

From my vantage-point on the mountain I kept up a pretty constant watch
for the next few days; no one could come across the valley from any
direction without my seeing them--during daylight, that is--and unless
Galvez had slipped into Hermanos after dark I was sure he had not
returned, when, about three o'clock on the afternoon of the fourth day I
espied Dick, a long way off, coming back from Mosby. It was twelve hours
earlier than I had expected him, and wondering if he had any special
reason for making such a quick trip, I got my pony and hurried off to
meet him.

I had a feeling that Dick was bringing news of some sort, and his first
words after shaking hands proved the correctness of my impression.

"Well, old chap!" he exclaimed. "I've got news for you this time that
will make you 'sit up and take notice':--Arthur may be here any day; and
he has at last got track of that patent."

"Got a letter from him, then, did you?" I asked.

"Yes; written from Cadiz, in Spain, more than three weeks ago."

"From Cadiz!" I cried. "What's he doing there?"

"His father sent him over to go through a chest of old papers they have
in their house there. Arthur says--I'll give you his letter to read as
soon as we get to camp--he says that he spent a fortnight reading all
sorts of musty documents, without success, when at last he came upon an
old note-book with the name of Arthur the First on its fly-leaf, and in
that he found a single line referring to the patent--the only mention
that has turned up anywhere."

"And what does that say?"

"It says---- Here, wait a minute; hold my rifle. I'll show you what it
says."

So saying, Dick took the letter out of his pocket, and finding the right
place, handed it to me. The passage read: "It was an old memorandum-book
in which my very great-grandfather used to note down all the particulars
of the copper shipments and other matters dealing with the K. P. mine;
but on the last fly-leaf was this entry, written in English: 'Mem. In
case of accident to myself: The King's patent and the King's commission
are in a hole in the wall above the door of the strong-room.' Where the
strong-room may have been," Arthur went on, "I don't know, unless it is
in the _Casa_. Ask Pedro."

"What do you think of that?" asked Dick.

"I think---- Well, I think we'll do as Arthur says: ask Pedro."

In the course of an hour we had reached camp, when Dick, as soon as he
had greeted the faithful Mexican, at once propounded the important
question.

"Pedro," said he, without any preface, "did you ever hear of the
'strong-room'?"

"Surely," replied Pedro, with an air of surprise at being asked such a
question. "Everybody knows the strong-room. It is a little room on the
east side of the _Casa_; it has a door and no window; it is where one
time the copper was stored, waiting for the pack-trains to come and take
it away."

"It is, is it!" cried Dick. "Then, Frank, I shouldn't be a bit surprised
if those deeds were in there now. How are we to find out?"

"Go and look!" I exclaimed, springing to my feet. "Now's our chance!
Galvez is away--gone to Taos. Let us make a try for it at once. He's due
to be back to-day, and then it will be too late. Come on! Let's get out!
We haven't a minute to lose! Will you come with us, Pedro?"

To my surprise, and, I must confess, to my disappointment also, Pedro
shook his head. I supposed he was afraid to leave his mountain, and for
a moment my opinion of his courage suffered a relapse. But I was doing
him an injustice, as I heartily owned to myself, when, pointing out over
the valley, he said, quietly:

"It is too late already, señor. Look there!"

Half a mile the other side of Hermanos, riding toward the village, were
three horsemen, one of whom we recognized as Galvez. Who the others
might be, and why the padron should be bringing them to Hermanos, we
could not guess. We were destined, however, to learn all about them
later in the day.

As a matter of course, the sole subject of our thoughts and our
conversation was the King's patent, and whether or not it was still in
its hiding-place above the door of the strong-room. The only way to find
out was to get in there and search for it, but how to do that was the
question. Many plans did we discuss and discard, and we were still
discussing as we sat round the fire that night--our Mexican workmen
being encamped some distance away--when Pedro suddenly jumped up, and
signaling to us to keep quiet, stood for a moment with his head bent
forward, listening intently. His sharp ears had detected some sound
inaudible to our less practised hearing.

Making a quick backward motion with his hand, he whispered sharply:
"Get away! Get away back from the light of the fire while I go see!"

We speedily retreated up the hill a little way and hid ourselves among
the trees, while Pedro, with the stealth of a wild animal, slipped
silently off into the darkness. So quick and so noiseless were the
movements of the clumsy-looking Mexican that I thought to myself I had
rather be hunted by wolves than by that skilful woodsman, with his keen
senses, his giant strength and his deadly, silent bow and arrow. I did
not wonder any more that Galvez kept himself aloof.

For two or three minutes silence prevailed, when we saw Pedro step back
into the circle of light, and with him another man. It was our friend,
José Santanna, again.

"Well, José!" cried Dick. "What can we do for you?"

"Señor," replied the Mexican, "I came up to tell you something--to warn
you. The padron is come back. He has been to Taos and he has brought
back with him two men. They are bad--like himself. I go up to the _Casa_
this evening while they are at supper and I hear them talking and
laughing together through the door which is open. They say they like
now to see three boys and a stupid peon"--he nodded toward Pedro--"get
them out. They say if they catch Pedro they hang him, and if they catch
'that young Blake' they shoot him. They are dangerous, señor."

"We shall have to keep our eyes wide open," said Dick. "Do you think
they'll venture up here, José?"

"I think not," replied the Mexican. "One of the men say, 'Let us go up
on the mountain and catch them,' but the padron, he say very quick, 'No,
no. I do not go up on the mountain. While they are there they do no
harm, but if they come down here, then----!'"

"I see," said Dick. "They mean to hold the fort against all comers. It
is pretty evident, I think, that Galvez has been back to his old haunts,
hunted out a couple of his old-time cronies, and brought them back to
garrison the _Casa_, meaning to defy the law to get him out."

"That's it, I expect," said I. "And our chances of getting into the
strong-room are a good deal slimmer than ever."

It certainly did look so; yet, as it happened, I never made a greater
mistake.

Who would have guessed how soon we were to get that chance? And who
would have guessed that the man who was to provide the opportunity--and
that by a plan so bold that I am astonished at it yet--was the man whom
I had that day mentally accused of cowardice? How I did apologize to him
in my thoughts!

"José," said Pedro, "does the padron still go to bed every night at ten
o'clock, as he used to do?"

"_Si_," replied the cowman.

"Does he always come out to the well to get a drink of cold water just
before he goes to bed, as he used to do?"

"_Si_," replied the cowman once more.

"Those two men, are they to sleep in that room next the padron's?"

"_Si_," replied the cowman for the third time.

"Good!" exclaimed Pedro. "What time is it, señor?" turning suddenly to
Dick.

"Half past eight," replied my partner, looking at his watch.

"Good!" exclaimed Pedro once more.

For a minute he sat silent, his lower lip stuck out, frowning at the
fire, while we sat watching him, wondering what he was thinking about,
when, with an angry grunt he muttered to himself, "Stupid peon, eh!
Humph! We'll see!" Then, jumping up, he said briskly: "Señores, get
your horses. We will search the strong-room to-night."

Still wondering what scheme he had in his head, we saddled up and
followed him as he rode down the mountain and out upon the plain, too
much engaged for the moment in picking our way to find an opportunity to
ask questions.

It seemed to me that our guide must have something of the wild animal in
him, for, though it was very dark, he never hesitated for a moment, but
went jogging along, threading his way through the sage-brush without a
pause or a stumble. Either he or his burro must have had the cat-like
gift of being able to see in the dark.

In about an hour we saw dimly the walls of the _Casa_ looming up near
us, and passing by it, we went on down to the creek where we dismounted
and tied up our horses to the trees. Then, following down the creek for
a short distance, we presently came opposite the front gate of the
_Casa_, about a hundred yards distant. The village on the other side of
the stream was dark and silent, but in one of the rooms in the _Casa_,
facing the gateway, we could see a light burning.

"That is the padron's room," whispered José. "He has not gone to bed
yet."

Against the light of the open door we could see between us and the house
the long, black arm of the well-sweep, and advancing toward it, we had
come within about thirty steps of it when Pedro requested us to stop
there and lie down, while he himself went on and crouched behind the
curbing of the well. We could not see him; in fact we could see nothing
but the lights in the window and doorway, the well-sweep, and, very
dimly, the outline of the building.

There we lay in dead silence for a quarter of an hour, wondering what
Pedro expected to do, when we heard voices, and the next moment the
figures of two men showed themselves in the lighted doorway. One of them
carried a candle, and the pair of them went into the next room--all the
rooms opened into the courtyard--and shut the door. For five minutes the
light showed through the little window and then went out. The padron's
friends had gone to bed.

For another five minutes we waited, and then the padron himself
appeared. We could hear the jingle of his spurs as he came leisurely
down to the well to get his nightly drink of cold water. We lay still,
hardly daring to breathe.

Presently, we heard the squeak of the well-sweep and saw it come round,
dip down and rise again. Then we heard the clink of a cup: Galvez was
taking his drink. He never finished it!

At that moment Pedro's burly form rose up from behind the curbing; he
took two steps forward, and with his great right hand he seized Galvez
by the neck from behind, giving it such a squeeze that the unfortunate
man could not utter a sound. We heard the cup fall to the ground with a
clatter.

Then, grasping the helpless padron by the back of his trousers, the
little giant swung him off his feet and hoisting him high above his
head, stepped to the rim of the curbing. The next moment there was a
muffled splash--Galvez had been dropped into the well!

He had been dropped in feet foremost, however, and as the well was only
twelve feet deep with four feet of water in it, his life was not
endangered.

At this point we all jumped up and ran forward, reaching the well just
as Galvez recovered his feet, as we could tell by the coughing and
spluttering noises which came up from below. As we approached, Pedro
leaned over the coping and said in a low voice:

"Good-evening, Padron. This is Pedro Sanchez. If you make any noise I
drop the bucket of water on your head."

This gentle hint was not lost upon Galvez, who contented himself with
muttered growlings of an uncomplimentary nature, when Pedro, turning to
Dick, whispered sharply:

"Run quick now to the strong-room. I stay here to guard the padron."

In company with the barefooted José, we ran into the courtyard, where
the Mexican pointed out to us the door of the strong-room, the first on
the right, and while Dick and I pulled it open, taking great care to
make no noise, José himself ran on to the padron's room, whence he
quickly returned with a candle in his hand.

While Dick stood guard outside, in case the padron's two friends should
come out, I slipped into the little room, where, finding an empty
barrel, I placed it in front of the doorway, jumped upon it, and taking
my sheath-knife, I stabbed at the adobe wall just above the lintel of
the door. The second or third stroke produced a hollow sound and
brought down a shower of dried mud, when, vigorously attacking the spot,
I soon uncovered a little board which had been let into the wall and
plastered over with adobe.

In a few seconds I had pried this out, when I found that the space
behind it was hollow, and thrusting in my hand I brought out a brass box
shaped like a magnified cigar-case.

"Dick!" I whispered, eagerly. "I've found something! Come in here!"

My partner quickly joined me, when we pried open the box, finding that
it contained a parcel wrapped up in a piece of cloth. Imagine our
excitement when on tearing off the wrapping we found that the contents
of the package consisted of two parchment documents, written in Spanish!
We had no time to examine them thoroughly, but a hasty glance convincing
us that we had indeed found what we sought, and there being nothing else
in the hole, I crammed the parchments back into the box, shoved the box
into my pocket, buttoned my coat, and away we went back to the well.

"Find it?" whispered Pedro.

I replied by patting my pocket.

Pedro nodded; and then, having first lowered the bucket into the well
again, he leaned over the coping and said softly:

"Padron, you may come out now as soon as you like."

With that, leaving Galvez to climb out if he could, or to remain where
he was if he couldn't, we all turned and ran for it.

Having recovered our horses, José bolted for home, while we went off as
fast as we dared in the darkness for camp.

There, by the light of the fire, we examined our capture. One of the
parchments was the commission of old Arthur the First to the
"Governorship" of the King Philip mine; the other was the original
"Grant" of the Hermanos tract from Philip V, King of Spain, the Indies
and a dozen other countries, to his trusty and well-beloved subject,
Arturo Blake.

"This _is_ great!" cried Dick. "This will settle the title without any
chance of dispute. Galvez may as well pack up and go now. I wonder what
he'll do?"

"I don't know what Galvez will do," said I; "but I can tell you what
_we_ must do, Dick. We must cut and run. This patent must be put away in
a safe place--and it isn't safe here by any means. Galvez will be about
crazy with rage at having been dropped into the well; and for another
thing, he'll see that hole above the door, and he'll know that whatever
it was we took out of the hole, it must be something of importance to
have induced us to come raiding his premises like that."

"That's true," said Dick, nodding his head.

"And I shouldn't be a bit surprised," I continued, "now that he has two
other unscrupulous rascals to back him, if he were to come raiding us in
return. What do you think, Pedro?"

"I think it is likely," replied the Mexican. "I think it is well that
you go, and stop the Señor Blake from coming here. Those men are
dangerous. For me, I have no fear: I can take care of myself."

"Then we'll skip," said Dick. "It's safest; and it's only for a time,
anyhow, for, of course, Galvez's legal ejection is certain, sooner or
later, now that we have the patent in our hands. So we'll get out,
Frank, the very first thing to-morrow."

It was the night of July 28th that we came to this resolution; though,
as a matter of fact, we were not aware of it at the time, for we had
lost track of the days of the month. It was the astounding event of the
day following that impressed the date so indelibly on our memories.

Men plot and plan and calculate and contrive, thinking themselves very
clever; but how feeble they are when Dame Nature steps in and takes a
hand, and how easily she can upset all their calculations, we were to
learn, once for all, that coming day.

CHAPTER XX

THE MEMORABLE TWENTY-NINTH

Though we had intended to get off about sunrise we failed to do so, for
we found that Galvez was on the lookout for us. No sooner had we started
than we saw the three men ride out from the _Casa_ with the evident
intention of cutting us off, so, not wishing to get into a fight if it
could be avoided, we turned back again.

Thereupon, the enemy also turned back; but, watching their movements, we
saw that soon after they had entered the house, the figure of one of
them appeared again on the roof, and there remained--a sentinel.
Plainly, they were not going to let us get away if they could help it.

At midday, however, we saw the sentinel go down, presumably to get his
dinner, when we thought we would try again. Pedro therefore went off to
get our horses for us, but he had hardly been gone a minute when we were
startled to see him coming back with them, running as fast as his short
legs would permit.

"What's the matter, Pedro?" cried Dick. "What's wrong?"

"I see the Señor Arturo coming!" shouted the Mexican.

"What!" cried Dick, and, "Where?" cried I, both turning to look out over
the plain.

That man, Pedro, must have had eyes like telescopes to pretend to
distinguish any one at such a distance, but on examining the little
black speck through the glass I made out that it was a horseman, and
after watching him for a few seconds I concluded that it was indeed our
friend, Arthur, returning.

"Frank!" cried my partner. "We must ride out to meet him at once! Pedro,
you stay here and watch the _Casa_. If those three men come out, make a
big smoke here so that we may know whether we have to hurry or not."

"It is good," replied the Mexican; and seeing that he might be relied
upon to give us timely warning--for he at once began to collect
materials for his fire--away we went.

Riding briskly, though without haste, we had left the mountain and were
crossing a wide depression in the plain, when, on its further edge,
there suddenly appeared the solitary horseman, riding toward us at a
hard gallop. Dick turned in his saddle and cast a glance behind him.

"The smoke!" he cried; and without another word we clapped our heels
into our ponies' ribs and dashed forward.

As Arthur approached--for we could now clearly see that it was he--we
observed that he kept looking back over his left shoulder, and just as
we arrived within hailing distance three other horsemen came in sight
over the southern rim of the depression, riding at a furious pace, their
bodies bent forward over their horses' necks. Each of the three carried
a rifle, we noticed, and one of the three was Galvez.

At sight of us, the pursuers, seemingly taken aback at finding
themselves confronted by three of us, when they had expected to find
only one, abruptly pulled up. This brief pause gave time to Arthur to
join us, when Dick, slipping down from his horse, advanced a few steps
toward the enemy, kneeled down, and ostentatiously cocked his rifle.

Whether the padron's quick ears caught the sound of the cocking of the
rifle--which seemed hardly likely, though in that clear, still
atmosphere the sharp _click-click_ would carry a surprisingly long
distance--I do not know; but whatever the cause, the result was as
unexpected as it was satisfactory. Galvez uttered a sharp exclamation,
whirled his horse round, and away they all went again as fast as they
had come.

"See that!" cried Arthur. "What did I tell you, Dick? We have to thank
that locoed steer for that."

"I expect we have," replied Dick.

"Not a doubt of it," said I. "I was sure that Galvez was much impressed
by the way that steer went over, and now I'm surer. Lucky he was, too,
for those three fellows meant mischief, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's pretty certain, I think," responded Arthur. "And it was another
piece of good fortune that you turned up just when you did. How did it
happen?"

We explained the circumstances, but we had no more than done so, when
Arthur exclaimed:

"Why, here comes old Pedro now! At a gallop, too! Everybody seems to be
riding at a gallop this morning."

Looking toward the mountain, we saw the Mexican on his burro coming down
at a great pace, but we had hardly caught sight of him when he suddenly
stopped. He was on a little elevation, from which, evidently, he could
see Galvez and his friends careering homeward, and observing that the
affair was over and that his assistance was not needed, he forthwith
halted, and, with a mercifulness not too common among Mexicans, jumped
to the ground in order to ease his steed of his weight.

There he stood, nearly two miles away, with his hand on the burro's
shoulders, watching the retreating enemy, while we three rode toward him
at a leisurely pace.

As will be readily imagined, there was great rejoicing among us over the
safe return of our friend and partner, and a great shaking of hands all
round, when, hardly giving him time to get his breath again, Dick and I
plunged head-first into the relation of all we had done since we saw him
last: the finding of the head-gate and the building of the flume;
triumphantly concluding our story with the recovery of the patent the
night before.

"Well, that was a great stroke, sure enough!" exclaimed Arthur. "That
will settle the business. The 'stupid peon' got ahead of the padron that
time, all right. But before we talk about anything else, Dick," he went
on, "I have something I want to tell you about, something in my
opinion--and the professor thinks so too--even more important--to
you--than the title to the Hermanos Grant."

"What's that?" cried my partner, alarmed by his serious manner. "Nothing
wrong, is there?"

"No, there's nothing wrong, I'm glad to say. Quite the contrary, in
fact. I'm half afraid to mention it, old man, for fear I should be
mistaken after all, and should stir you up all for nothing, but--why
didn't you tell me, Dick, that your name was Stanley?"

"Why, I did!" cried Dick.

"No, you didn't, old fellow. If you remember, you were going to do so
that first day we met, down there in the cañon by the opening of the
King Philip mine, when Pedro interrupted you by remarking that the
darkness would catch us if we stayed there any longer."

"I remember. Yes, that's so. Ah! I see. That was why you addressed your
letters to the professor instead of to me."

"Yes, that was the reason. It didn't occur to me till I came to write to
you that I didn't know your name."

"That was rather funny, wasn't it?" said Dick, laughing. "But I don't
see that it made much difference in the end: I got your letters all
right."

My partner spoke rather lightly, but Arthur on the other hand looked so
serious, not to say solemn, that Dick's levity died out.

"What is it, old man?" he asked. "What difference does it make whether
my name is Stanley or anything else?"

"It makes a great difference, Dick," replied Arthur. "I believe"--he
paused, hesitating, and then went on, "I'm half afraid to tell you, for
fear there might be some mistake after all, but--well--I believe, Dick,
that I've found out who you are and where you came from!"

It was Dick's turn to look serious. His face turned a little pale under
its sunburn.

"Go on," said he, briefly.

"You remember, perhaps," Arthur continued, "how I told you that one
reason why I had to go back by way of Santa Fé was because I had some
inquiries to make on behalf of my mother. Well, as it turned out, Santa
Fé was the wrong place. The place for me to go to was Mosby, and the man
for me to ask was--the professor!

"When I reached Mosby yesterday," he continued, "I rode straight on up
to his house, when the kindly old gentleman, as soon as I had explained
who I was, made me more than welcome. We were sitting last evening
talking, when I happened to cast my eye on the professor's book shelf,
and there I saw something which brought me out of my chair like a shot.
It was a volume of Shakespeare, one of a set, volume two--that book
which the professor found in the wagon-bed when he found you. I knew the
book in a moment--for we have the rest of the set at home, Dick!"

Dick stopped his horse and sat silent for a moment, staring at Arthur.
Then, "Go on," said he once more.

"I pulled the book down from the shelf," Arthur went on, "and looked at
the fly-leaf. There was an inscription there--I knew there would
be--'Richard Livingstone Stanley, from Anna.'"

"Well," said Dick. His voice was husky and his face was pale enough now.

"Dick," replied Arthur, reaching out and grasping my partner's arm, "my
mother's name was Anna Stanley, and she gave that set of Shakespeare to
her brother, Richard, on his twenty-first birthday!"

For a time Dick sat there without a word, not at first comprehending,
apparently, the significance of these facts--that he and Arthur must be
first cousins--while the latter quickly related to us the rest of the
story.

Dick's mother having died, his father determined to leave Scotland and
seek his fortune in the new territory of Colorado, whose fame was then
making some stir in the world. In company, then, with a friend, David
Scott--the "Uncle" David whom Dick faintly remembered--he set out,
taking the boy with him.

From the little town of Pueblo, on the Arkansas, Richard Stanley had
written that he intended going down to Santa Fé, and that was the last
ever heard of him. At that time--the year '64--everything westward from
the foot of the mountains was practically wilderness. Into this
wilderness Richard Stanley had plunged, and there, it was supposed, he
and his son and his friend had perished.

As for Dick, he seemed to be dazed--and no wonder. For a boy who had
never had any relatives that he knew of to be told suddenly that the
young fellow sitting there with his hand on his arm was his own cousin,
was naturally a good deal of a shock.

If it needed a counter-shock to jolt his faculties back into place, he
had it, and it was I who provided it.

In order to give the pair an opportunity to get used to their new
relationship, I was about to ride forward to join Pedro, when I saw the
Mexican suddenly commence cutting up all sorts of queer antics, jumping
about and waving his arms in a frantic manner.

"What's the matter with Pedro?" I called out. "Look there, you fellows!
What's the matter with Pedro?"

"Something wrong!" cried Dick. "Get up!"

Away we went at a gallop, keeping a sharp lookout in all directions lest
those three men should bob up again from somewhere, while the Mexican
himself, jumping upon his burro, rode down to meet us.

"What's up, Pedro?" Dick shouted, as soon as we had come within hearing.
"Anything the matter?"

"Señores," cried Pedro, speaking with eager rapidity, "those men come
hunting us. I watch them ride back almost to the _Casa_, and then of a
sudden they change their minds and turn up into the mountain. They think
to catch us, but"--he stretched out his great hand and shut it tight,
his black eyes gleaming with excitement--"if the señores will give me
leave, we will catch them!"

If his surmise was right, if those men were indeed coming after us as he
believed, there was no question that if any of us could beat them at
that game, Pedro was the one. Dick was a fine woodsman, but Pedro was a
finer--my partner himself would have been the first to acknowledge
it--and it was Dick in fact who promptly replied:

"Go ahead, Pedro! You're captain to-day! Take the lead; we'll follow!"

"_'Sta bueno!_" cried the Mexican, greatly pleased. "Come, then!"

Turning his burro, he rode quickly back to camp, and there, at his
direction, having unsaddled and turned loose our horses, we followed him
to the flume, taking with us nothing but our rifles.

There had been a little thunder-storm the day before, and the soil near
the flume was muddy. Through this mud, by Pedro's direction, we tramped;
crossed the flume on the gangway we had laid for the purpose, leaving
muddy tracks as we went; jumped down at the other end and set off
hot-foot up the gully to the little new-made lake and thence on up to
the old lake; in several soft places purposely leaving footmarks which
could not escape notice.

"What's all this for, Pedro?" asked Dick. "What's your scheme?"

"The padron will see our tracks crossing the flume," replied Pedro. "He
will think you take Señor Arturo up to show him all the work you have
done, and he will follow. If he does so, we have him! When he is safe
across, we slip back, and then I hide me among the rocks on the other
side and guard the flume. Without my leave they cannot cross back again.
Thus I hold them on the wrong side, while you ride away at your ease to
Mosby. Now, come quick with me!"

So saying, Pedro turned at right angles to the line of the ditch,
climbed a short distance up the hillside, and then, under cover of the
trees, started back at a run, until presently he brought us to a point
whence we could look down upon the flume, its approaches at both ends,
and the line of the ditch up to the head of the little lake.

Hitherto it had been all bustle and activity, but now we were called
upon to exercise a new virtue, one always difficult to fellows of our
age--patience.

It must have been nearly an hour that we had lain there, sometimes
talking together in whispers, but more often keeping silence, when Dick,
pulling out his watch, said in a low voice:

"If those fellows are coming, I wish they'd come. It's twenty minutes
past two; and we're in for a thunder-storm, I'm afraid. Do you notice
how dark it's getting?"

"Yes," whispered Arthur. "And such a queer darkness. I'm afraid it's a
forest fire and not a thunder-storm that is making it."

"I believe you're right," replied Dick. "It _is_ a queer-colored light,
isn't it?"

We could not see the sun on account of a high cliff at the foot of which
we were lying, and if we had had any thought of getting up to look at
it, we were stopped by Pedro, who at this moment whispered sharply to us
to keep quiet. His quick eyes had detected a movement on the far side of
the cañon.

Intently we watched, and presently the figure of a man stepped out from
among the trees. Advancing cautiously to the end of the flume, he
examined the tracks in the mud, climbed up to the gang-plank, inspected
the tracks again, and turning, made a sign with his hand; whereupon two
other men stepped out from among the trees. The three then crossed the
flume, jumped down, and set off up the gully.

We watched them as they followed the ditch up to the new lake, and
thence to the draw which led up to the old lake. At the mouth of the
draw they paused for some time, hesitating, doubtless, whether they
should trust themselves in that deep, narrow crevice--a veritable trap,
for all they knew.

Presumably, however, they made up their minds to risk it, for on they
went, and a few minutes later were lost to sight.

By this time the darkness had so increased that the men were hardly
distinguishable, though they, themselves, seemed to take no notice of
it. The sun was behind them, and so intent were they in following our
tracks and keeping watch ahead, that they never thought to cast a glance
upward to see what was coming.

"Pedro," whispered Dick, as soon as the men had vanished, "let us get
out of here. Either the woods are on fire or there'll be a tremendous
storm down on us directly."

Pedro, however, requested us to wait another five minutes, when, jumping
to his feet, he cried:

"Come, then! Let us get back! We have them safe now!"

Down we ran, but no sooner had we got clear of the trees than Pedro
stopped short. In a frightened voice--the first and only time I ever
knew him to show fear--he ejaculated:

"Look there! Look there!"

Following his pointing finger, we looked up. The uncanny darkness was
accounted for:--a great semi-circular piece seemed to have been bitten
out of the sun!

"The eclipse!" cried Arthur. "I'd forgotten all about it. This is the
twenty-ninth of July. The newspapers were full of it, but I'd forgotten
all about it!"

"A total eclipse, isn't it?" asked Dick, quickly.

"Yes, total."

"Then it will be a great deal darker presently. We'd better get out of
this, and cross the flume while we can see."

In fact, it was already so dark that the small birds, thinking it was
night, were busily going to bed; the night-hawks had come out, the
curious whir of their wings sounding above our heads; and then--a sound
which made us all start--there came the long-drawn howl of a wolf!

"Run!" shouted Dick. "They'll be after us directly!"

Undoubtedly, the wolves, too, were deceived into the belief that night
was approaching, for even as Dick spoke we heard in three or four
different directions the hunting-cry of the packs. Wasting no time, as
will be imagined, away we went, scrambled up on the gang-plank of the
flume, and there stopped to listen.

"I hope those men"--Dick began; when, from the direction of the draw
above there arose a fearful clamor of howling. There was a shot! Another
and another, in quick succession! And then, piercing through and rising
above all other sounds, there went up a cry so dreadful that it turned
us sick to hear it. What had happened?

The hour that followed was the worst I ever endured, as we crouched
there in the darkness and the silence, not knowing what had occurred up
above.

At length the shadow moved across the face of the sun, it was brilliant
day once more, when, the moment we thought it safe to venture, down we
jumped and set off up the line of the ditch. We had not gone a
quarter-mile when we saw two men coming down, running frantically. In a
few seconds they had reached the spot where we stood waiting for them,
not knowing exactly what we were to expect of them.

Never have I seen such panic terror as these men exhibited; they were
white and trembling and speechless. For two or three minutes we could
get nothing out of them, but at length one of them recovered himself
enough to tell us what had happened.

The wolves had caught them in that narrow, precipitous arroyo, coming
from both ends at once. The two men, themselves, had succeeded in
scrambling up to a safe place, but Galvez, attempting to do the same,
had lost his hold and fallen back. Before he could recover his feet the
wolves were upon him, and then----!

Well--no wonder those men were sick and pale and trembling!

That the padron's designs against us had been evil there could be no
doubt--in fact, his shivering henchmen admitted as much--but, quite
unsuspicious of the coming of the midday darkness, and knowing nothing
of the fierce nature of these "island" wolves, he had run himself into
that fatal trap. It was truly a dreadful ending.

Does any one wonder now that the date of the eclipse of '78 should be so
indelibly stamped on our memories?

There being now nothing to interfere with us, we went down to Hermanos
and took possession of the _Casa_, and from that time forward the work
on our irrigation system moved along without let or hindrance from
anything but the seasons.

But though it was now plain sailing, and though we eventually got
together a force of twenty Mexicans to do the digging, the amount of
work was so great that we had not nearly finished that part of the ditch
which wound over the foothills when frost came and stopped us. We at
once moved everything down to the village and began again at that end,
keeping hard at it until frost stopped us once more, and finally for
that year.

In fact, it was not until the spring of '80 that we at last turned in
the water--a moderate amount at first--but since then the quantity has
been increased year by year, until now we are supplying at an easy
rental a great number of small farms, many of them cultivated by
Mexicans, but the majority by Americans.

The largest of the farms is that run by the two cousins and myself, and
its management, together with the supervision and maintenance of the
water-supply keeps us all three on the jump.

As for old Pedro, he stuck to his mountain until just lately, when we
persuaded him to come down and take up his residence on the ranch;
though even now, every fall he goes off for a three-months' hunt and we
see nothing of him till the first snow sends him down again.

He is a privileged character, allowed to go and come as he pleases; for
we do not forget his great services in turning this worthless desert
into a flourishing community of busy wheat-farmers and fruit-growers;
nor do we forget that it was really he who started the whole business.

As to that, though, we are not likely to forget it, for we have on hand
a constant reminder.

Above the fireplace in our house there hangs, plain to be seen, a relic
with which we would not part at any price--the "indicator" which pointed
the way for us when we first set out on this enterprise--the original
copper-headed arrow!

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Trail of The Badger, by Sidford F. Hamp