You see about halfway between this point and the river are five or six little marks like a V upside down. I see there are other marks like these at different places on the map. I should say they were meant for Indian villages.”
“That is so, no doubt,” Dave agreed. “Here is another thing beside them; what do you make that out to be, Dick?”
“It looks to me like a tiny bird; it is very small and very badly done, but I am pretty sure that that is what is meant. What in the world can he have put a bird there for? Let us look at the other villages.” He examined them carefully. “Two of them have got figures. This one looks like a cat, and this is a snake—at least, I should think so.”
“I have got it,” Dave exclaimed. “Those are the names of the chiefs. I know the names of a good many of their chiefs, and there’s Rattlesnake and the Mountain Lion among them.”
“And there is the Crow, too, Dave,” Boston Joe put in.
“So there is; I know he is the chief of the tribes whose country lies this side of the Arizona. No doubt that is his village. Now we have it. I know pretty well where his place is, for I have been further among the hills than that. I can find my way there easy enough. When we get to the stream his village is built on we have got to hunt along it till we find these marks, and then follow on the line he took. The Crow’s village is about thirty miles north of the Gila. That will put these stops sixty miles from the river. Yes, this straightens out the distances pretty considerable, for I should say that from them to the three peaks it must be nigh three hundred miles. I don’t think it is more than a hundred from here to the Crow’s village. It should be an easy thing following that marked line, but it won’t matter if we miss it. Our course will be pretty nigh due east, not, as he makes it, north, for we know the Sisters are not more than eighty miles from the Gila. When we get near them we can’t help seeing them. Then we have only got to follow the direction of this map below. There are the peaks. Well, right in front of them is a lower hill with a tree on its top, and that tree exactly in line with the middle peak gives us the line, and as the tree just touches the bottom of the peak, it will give us the distance to within half a mile. Here are two lines, one on each side of the line from the peak through the trees. I don’t know what they mean, but I guess they mark a canyon, and when we go up that we can hardly help striking the mine, wherever it is. I think we have got the thing pretty well down to a point, and if we go wrong it is our own fault.”
“Shall we have to come back this way?” Dick asked.
“That must depend upon circumstances,” Dave replied. “We might make straight north and come down on a pass that crosses the mountains about a hundred and fifty miles north of the Sisters, but I reckon it would be a terrible journey to undertake with loaded mules. Then again we might strike east, and make either for Albuquerque or Socorro. Like enough we may find that our best way.”
CHAPTER VII
The Scarcity of Water
Five days later they reached the stream. The miners had all recognized points that they had passed on their former journey, and all agreed that it was lower down on this stream that the Crow’s village was situated. For the moment this was a matter of inferior importance to them. It was enough that they had reached water, for they had for the last four days been traversing an arid waste of broken country, without as much as a tree under which they could lie during the day. They had filled up all their water skins before entering on this region, and these had sufficed for them and their animals, but for the last two days they had been obliged to husband it. What remained tasted so strongly of the skins that at any other time the boys could not have drank it, but men and horses were both filled with delight at the sight of the bright clear water. The baggage and saddles were removed, and the animals were allowed to drink their fill, and then to lie down in the stream while their riders enjoyed the luxury of a bath.
They had done no cooking for the last four days, as no fuel of any sort was to be obtained, and they lived upon the dried meat and a drink of flour and water. The banks of the stream were well wooded, and the animals, as soon as their thirst was quenched, fell to work upon the grass that grew knee-deep near its banks.
“We must do some cooking to-day,” Dave said, “and a good batch of it; there is no saying when it will be safe to cook again. We must wait till night, and then light the fire in the thickest part of these trees, and fasten our blankets up round it to prevent its light being seen. We can collect the firewood in readiness before it gets dark.”
The spot was carefully chosen, the horseropes were fastened from tree to tree around it, and all the blankets hung on them.
“We must take it by turns,” Dave said, “to keep the fire up, and go on baking. We will make a dozen loaves if we can.”
As they sat round the fire later on they discussed their next move, and agreed that as the river was shallow they would cross it at once, and then follow it up stream. Should they find no landmarks answering to those on the map, they would then return and go down the stream.
Next morning they started again, with fifteen loaves done up in a blanket on one of the ponies. The journey was toilsome, for the river ran in places through gorges where the rocks rose sheer from its edge, and they were forced to make considerable detours, and to come down upon it again. They had traveled, they calculated, but eight miles up the stream, when they came upon a valley running east. A small stream ran down it, and fell into the river they were following.
“This looks a likely sort of place,” Dave said; “it is the sort of valley a party exploring would be likely to follow. There is wood, water, and grass. Now for the landmarks.”
They went on until they reached the spot where the stream fell into the river.
“We can’t do better than camp here, Dave,” ’Zekel said; “it has been a rough journey for the ponies, and they will be all the better for another good feed.”
“All right,” Dave agreed, “I don’t see any signs of the landmarks, but they may be somewhere about. We will unsaddle the ponies. Boys, you may as well walk up the stream a bit. Keep your eyes open, but don’t go very far away. Keep your rifles ready for use; there is no saying but what some prowling Indian may not have caught sight of us as we came along.”
The boys unslung their rifles, which were strapped tightly to their backs—they were already loaded—and started up the valley. In a quarter of a mile they passed through the low wood which filled the bottom of the valley. In front of them was an open space, bright with long grass and flowers. In the center of this stood two large trees, one on either side of the stream. They hurried on, and when they reached the trees saw, to the northwest, two peaks, one nearer and lower than the other, in an exact line. As the direction was exactly that of the two dots on the map, they had no doubt whatever that they had hit the right spot. They returned at once with the news to the men. Dave had already lighted a fire, for in this sheltered valley there was little fear of the slight smoke it made being seen, broken up as it was in its passage through the leaves overhead.
“We have found the marks,” Dick said, as they arrived. “We don’t think there can be any mistakes about them.”
“Have you? That is good,” and the three men at once went on to the two trees.
“There is no doubt that is what was meant,” Boston Joe said. “Wall, I am glad to see them—it shows, anyhow, that we are right in our guess-work as to the map, which we never felt quite sure of before, seeing them three peaks war the only thing we had to go on, and the marks might not have been meant for them arter all. Now the matter air clear and fixed, and we have only got to go ahead.”
“Yes,
