urn to Santa Fe, therefore I desisted in returning. Being
extremely irritated at his conduct I sought my fortune in Peru, until
such time when he should be called to heaven, which call even now, in
my old age, has not yet been made, over which misfortune I have sorely
grieved."

Accompanying this document was a map with the Sangre de Christo range,
the Spanish Peaks, the River, Valley and flat cliff on edge, plainly
marked. The distance from Santa Fe and the mountain passes was clearly
indicated.

A month later Buchan was transferred on a run out of Santa Fe where
the hand of Fate and Chance again took part. He received a letter from
Mr. Robinson who had joined a surveying party and had fallen ill at
Saguache. The letter implored him to come, if he ever expected to see
him alive. True to his old time friendship, he lost no time in
reaching his bedside. Mr. Robinson lingered a few weeks and died. This
was more sad news for Hattie in her far-away home, amid the Santa
Lucia mountains. She alone remained of the happy family who had gone
to Arequipa with fond hopes for the future beneath those sunny skies.

I, the writer, had been with Carson a few days before prospecting in
the Sangre de Christo mountains, when by chance we rested at the
spring beside the peculiar shaped cliff. I noticed that Carson was
interested in the surroundings, but I thought nothing of it at the
time. The formation of the cliff appealed to my fancy, and I chanced
to mention it to Buchan one day when he became excited and asked to be
shown its whereabouts.

Together with Carson we visited the spot. Being an old prospector, I
soon discovered formations that looked like pay ore. My years of
experience in these mountains had taught me that a man might work a
lifetime and gain nothing, and again from the outcroppings of a stone
at grass roots he might develop a mine worth a million dollars.

Carson and Buchan were sanguine over our prospects, too much so, I
thought, for men who had no experience in mining.

I located the claim so as to include the cliff and spring and when I
made out the registration papers, I said: "Gentlemen, what shall we
call the mine?"

"Name it the Maldonado," said Carson.

"What!" exclaimed Buchan, turning an ashen paleness.

"The Major Domo," replied Carson, looking somewhat abashed.

"Name it the Aberdeen," said Buchan. "I like to hear that name spoken,
it was my old home in Scotland."

XXIII.

THE TWO OLD B