many answers and therefore none at all. But he could tell her a
few things of the ancient civilization . . . and a civilization it
truly was . . . and of the signs left for posterity to puzzle over.

They had builded cities, and the ruins of their pueblos still stand
scattered across the weary, scorched land; they constructed mile after
mile of aqueducts whose lines are followed to-day by reclamation
engineers; they irrigated and cultivated their lands; they made abodes
high up on the mountains, dwelling in caves, enlarging their dwellings,
shaping homes and fortresses and lookouts. And just so long as the
mountains themselves last, will men come now and then into such places
as that wherein Jim Galloway's rifles lay hidden.

"I have lived in this part of the world all but two or three years of
my life," said Norton at the end, "and yet I never heard of these
particular caves until a very few days ago. I don't believe that there
are ten people living who know of them; so Galloway, hiding his stuff
out there was playing just as safe as a man can play--when he plays the
game crooked, anyway."

"But won't he guess something when he misses Moraga?"

"I don't think so." Norton shook his head. "Tom Cutter and Brocky made
Moraga talk. His job was to keep an eye on this end, but he was
commissioned also to make a trip over to the county line. The first
thing Jim Galloway will hear will be that Moraga got drunk and into a
scrape and was taken in by Sheriff Roberts. Then I think that Galloway
himself will slip out of San Juan himself some dark night and climb the
cliffs to make sure. When he finds everything absolutely as it was
left, when time passes and nothing is done, I think he will replace
Moraga with another man and figure that everything is all right. Why
shouldn't he?"

From Galloway and Moraga they got back to a discussion of the ancient
peoples of the desert, venturing surmise for surmise, finding that
their stimulated fancies winged together, daring to construct for
themselves something of the forgotten annals of a forgotten folk who,
perhaps, were living in walled cities while old Egypt was building her
pyramids. Then, abruptly, in a patch of tall mesquite, Norton reined
in his horse and stopped.

"You understand why I must leave you here," he said. "Yonder, beyond
those trees straight ahead . . . you will see it from that little
ridge . . . is Las Estrellas, a town of a dozen houses. But before you