five hundred dollars, any day, in San
Francisco," added Tim O'Rooney. "It'll pay yez to carry it there."

"It is just the thing to wrap around us when we lie down to sleep."

"Yis, if ye wraps up in that yez'll wake up and find yersilves roasted
to dith. Yez might as well crawl into an oven and bake yersilves and be
done with it."

"We can then spread it on the ground, and protect ourselves from the
moisture!" said Howard, who was beginning to appreciate the value of the
article.

"I've saan them things before," added Tim O'Rooney. "The Apaches and
Mohaws in New Mexico make 'em. It has tuk a couple of squaws the bist
part of a year to do the same."

"But where is the owner? An Indian could not lose such a thing without
knowing it. Why, it is a load to carry, and I should expect to lose my
coat as soon as to part with this."

Of course there could be no explanation of the cause of the blanket
being found where it was. It was plain that no Indian could have parted
with it unknowingly, and its high value made it still more puzzling that
it should have been left in such a place. It might be that the
owner--some fragile Indian girl--had wearied with carrying it, and had
thrown it down for a warrior friend of hers to pick up and take to its
destination for her.

This conjecture, made by Tim O'Rooney himself, raised a serious question
as to whether they had a right to carry the blanket away when there was
good reason to doubt its being lost or abandoned.

"If a year's work has been lavished upon it," said Elwood, "it cannot be
possible that it has no owner."

"I think Tim is right; he or she expects to return or send and get it."

"But it is singular that if such is the case it should be left here,
when it could have been easily hid in these bushes."

"That only proves that there are no people about--no white ones at
least. If the owner had any fear of this place being visited by
_Christians_, he would have taken pains to hide his property; but as he
was sure there were none but savages and heathen, he was certain his
blanket was safe."

Howard Lawrence, jesting though he was, spoke the truth, and deeply
ashamed are we to confess it.

The question received an unexpected and unmistakable solution. While
they were still conversing, they descried a gaudily dressed, rather
handsome-looking squaw tripping lightly behind them. Her head was bent,
and she did not discover them until the growl of the dog caused her to