tombstone; but Dusty
Rhodes recalled the time when a fine stage-road had threaded its curves
and led on up the canyon to old Panamint. But the flood which had
destroyed the road had left the town marooned and the inhabitants had
gone out over the rocks; until now only Cole Campbell, the owner of the
Homestake, stayed on to do the work on his claims. In this valley far
below he had made his home for years, diverting the creek to water his
scanty crops; while in season and out he labored on the road which was
to connect up his mine with the world.

His house stood against the hill, around the point from Corkscrew Bend,
old and rambling and overgrown with vines; and along the road that led
up to it there were rows of peaches and figs, fenced off by stone walls
from the creek. Dusty rode past the trees slowly, feasting his eyes on
their lush greenness and the rank growth of alfalfa beyond; until from
the house ahead a screen door slammed and a woman gazed anxiously down.

"Oh, is that you, Mr. Rhodes?" she called out at last, "I thought it was
the man who got lost! Come up to the house and tell me about him--do you
think he will bring back our mule?"

He dismounted with a flourish and dropped his reins at the gate; then,
while Billy hung back and petted the lathered horse, he strode up the
flower-entangled walk.

"Don't think nothing, Mrs. Campbell," he announced with decision, "that
boy has stole 'em before. He'll trade off that mule fer anything he can
git and pull his freight fer Nevada."

He paced up to the porch and shook hands ceremoniously, after which he
accepted a drink and a basketful of figs and proceeded to retail the
news.

"Do you know who that feller is?" he inquired mysteriously, as Billy
crept resentfully near, "he's the man that discovered the Wunpost mine
and tried to keep it dark. Yes, that big mine over in Keno that they
thought was worth millions, only it pinched right out at depth; but it
showed up the nicest specimens of jewelry gold that has ever been seen
in these parts. Well, this Wunpost, as they call him, was working on a
grubstake for a banker named Judson Eells. He'd been out for two years,
just sitting around the water-holes or playing coon-can with the Injuns,
when he comes across this mine, or was led to it by some Injun, and he
tries to cover it up. He puts up one post, to kinder hold it down in
case some prospector should happen along; and then he writes his notice,
_leaving out t