desert wanderer he would doubtless soon pick up a claim. There was
nothing like putting Gettysburg upon the scent.

Van wrote a note to his partners.


"Dear Fellow Mourners:

"Have just discovered a joke. I was salted on the 'See Saw' property.
Our pipe dream is defunct. Have gone over to lay out remains. If you
find any oldtimers who have just discovered some lost bonanza, take
them into camp. Don't get drunk, get busy. Be back a little after
noon."


This he left with the hay-yard man where his partners would stop when
they arrived. Mounted on Suvy, his outlaw of the day before, he rode
from Goldite joyously. After all, what was the odds? He had been no
better off than now at least a hundred times. At the worst he still
had his partners and his horse, a breakfast aboard, and a mountain
ahead to climb.

Indeed, at the light of friendship in his broncho's eyes, as well as at
the pony's neigh of welcome, back there at the yard, he had felt a
boundless pleasure in his veins. He patted the chestnut's neck, in his
rough, brusque way of companionship, and the horse fairly quivered with
pleasure.

For nearly two hours the willing animal went zig-zagging up the rocky
slopes. The day was warming; the sun was a naked disk of fire. It was