"Can't most always sometimes tell," he remarked humorously; "that's
a right pretty gal yonder, too. Any of you heard what Jim Bell's
doing in Blue Creek?" The question came abruptly.

"Don't rightly know," was Cash's reply, "but I heard thet before he
went Fast Jim Bell worked his way further inter ther desert than any
man has ever bin. What he wuz arter I dunno, but it wouldn't be
like Jim Bell ter risk his life fer muthin'."

"Do you reckon it was gold?"

The slender young man's dark eyes kindled in the word he used there
was some potent fascination for him.

"Donno 'bout gold," said Cash, thoughtfully; "Thar's silver, yes,
and platinum back younder. So ther Injuns say anyhow. But thar's
mighty few white men hes ever got thet fur, an' if they did, they
never come back to tell." He gazed out over the crystalline,
quivering desert, burning whitely as a spangled Christmas card under
the scorching sun. In his day Cash had seen many set out across it
who never reappeared.

"Pity thar hain't no way of gitting thar without having ter use
stock."

"Ortermobiles?" suggested a withered old man with the desert tan and
wrinkles upon him.

"Tired 'em," struck in another of the same type. "No go. Sunk to