Moultrie. He was an odd stick and I guess was more than half crazy. He was
prospecting most of his life, leastwise as soon as he came out to these
regions. The funny part of it all was that he wouldn't go with anybody and
wouldn't let anybody go with him. Once or twice he thought he had struck
it rich, but I never heard that anything panned out."

"What makes you think the dead man was Simon Moultrie?"

"Mostly because he hasn't been heard from of late. It must be seven or
eight months since he has shown up. You see he used to come in twice a
year for supplies and then he would start out prospecting and not show up
again for six months, or until his supplies ran low."

"How old a man was he?" inquired John.

"Sixty-three or sixty-six, I should reckon," replied Zeke glibly. "He was
a bit off, same as I was telling you, and had just gone dippy on the
subject of finding a mine."

"And you say he did find one or two?"

"He thought he did find one or two, but when he came to follow them up,
why the stuff didn't assay worth a cent, or else it was just a little
pocket he had happened to find. What do you think ought to be done with
these bones?" again inquired the guide.

"The best thing to do is to bury them and mark the spot just as John
said," said Fred.

The suggestion was speedily acted upon and taking the spade which had been