The rather feeble lights of the rattly old car did little to illumine the well of darkness in which they were riding. The wash they were crossing was wide and deep and the girls were both glad when they climbed that last little hill and were nearer the stars again. From the top, they could see the black wall of mountains to the distant right of them, which Jerry had called “The Dragoons.” A desert valley at its foot stretched away for many miles shimmering in the starlight. Not far ahead of them was a cluster of sand hills—“the silver hills”—on which stood the small mining-town of Tombstone. The power plant was in order, as was evidenced by the twinkling of lights. A friendly group of them marked the main street, and scattered lights, farther and farther apart, were shining from the windows of homes. Down the little hill the car dropped, then began the last long climb up to the town.
On the main street there were unshaven, roughly dressed men, some from the range, others from the mines, loitering about in front of a lighted pool hall. They were talking, some of them excitedly, about the recent train robbery. Jerry drew his car to the curb and leaped out. Three young cowboys called a greeting to him. He replied in a friendly way, but turned at once to assist Mary. Dick and Dora followed the other two into a low adobe building labeled “Post Office.” A light was burning in a small back room. Jerry opened the door and entered. A middle-aged man, whose gauntness suggested that he had come there to be cured of the “white plague,” smiled affably. “Evening, Jerry-boy,” he said. “Wait till I get this message. The wires are keeping hot tonight along of that train robbery.”
The uneven clicking of the instrument ended; the man scribbled a few words, called a lounging boy from a dark corner and dispatched him to Sheriff Goode. Jerry introduced his companions to Mr. Hale, then explained the object of their visit.
Mr. Hale shook his head. “Well, that’s just too bad,” he said. “I happen to know that Gray Bluffs country well. Stopped off when I first came West, health-hunting, but it didn’t agree with me there; nothing like this Tombstone shine and air to make sick lungs well.”
His tanned face and bright eyes told his enthusiasm, but he added quickly, “That won’t interest you any. What I started to say is that Gray Bluffs isn’t a real town, that is not now. It was, of course, when they first found gold in the bluffs, but it petered out, the post office moved to another place and so did the folks who’d lived there.”
“Did you ever hear of a woman named Burger over there?” Jerry asked.
“Sure! That was the name of the postmistress, Miss Kate Burger. She died, though, along about five years ago.”
Just then the instrument began an excited clicking. The operator turned his attention to it. “Say, that’s great!” he ejaculated as though addressing whoever was sending the message.
“Oh, Mr. Hale, have they caught the robbers?” Mary asked eagerly.
“No, not that.” The man was scribbling rapidly. “Say, hasn’t that kid—oh, here you are, Trombone. Take this back to the Deputy Sheriff’s office. Dep’s been loco all day.” Then to the interested listeners, he explained, “He’d been promised the help of an air scout from the East; thought maybe he’d had a smashup; was due this morning early. Well, that last message was from the head office of the border patrol. The air scout will be along any time now.”