"Once I committed murder for that ring," he whispered. "I killed the Mexican who possessed it. It was a crazy hermit who cut that map on the stone. He discovered one of the richest mines in Arizona, and a fantasy of his deranged brain led him to cut the chart upon the stone, for he cared nothing for the gold himself. When he died, he gave the ring to a Mexican who attended him in his last moments, telling him its secret. In Tombstone the Mexican got drunk and boasted of his riches, showing the ring. That night I killed the greaser, and obtained the ring. I had a partner, and he stole the ring from me. How he came to part with it, and how it fell into the hands of your father, boy, is something I do not know."
He was exhausted, and his voice sunk till Frank could not catch the words. Then he lay still, short breaths fluttering his lips.
Frank feared the man would not rally again, but he did, and the boy panted:
"Tell me where this mine is located. What part of Arizona does the chart represent?"
With a last great effort, the dying man whispered:
"Northwest from Tombstone—lies the—Santa—Catarina—mountains. There—there—is——"
His eyes grew glassy—the last faint breath fluttered over his lips—the man of mystery was dead.
The man in black was buried in the cemetery just outside Fardale village, and the small stone which Frank Merriwell caused to be placed at the head of his grave bears the word "Unknown."
The man had died just as his lips were about to reveal the location of the country depicted by the chart cut on the black stone of the ring that had caused so much trouble. He had mentioned the Santa Catarina mountains, but he had not told what part of the large range the chart depicted.