“Sure thing–have another!” responded Charley cordially, and Wiley poured out a generous portion.
“Here’s to you,” he said, “Old Chuckawalla Charley–the man that put the Death in Death Valley. You’re some desert rat, now ain’t you, Charley? You helped pack the mud to build the butte and stoped out the guest chamber down in hell! Well, here’s luck!” and he nodded his health.
“Yes, you bet I’m an old-timer,” boasted Death 184Valley vaingloriously. “I was at Panamint and Ballarat, and all them camps. Me and old Shorty Harris–we used to lead every rush–we was first at Greenwater and Skidoo. But these damned lizzies can beat us to it now–the old burro-man is too slow.”
“But crossing the sand, Charley, you’ve got us there; and climbing up these rocky washes. I’ve got a good machine–it’ll take me most anywhere–but when it comes to crossing Death Valley, give me some burros and old Uncle Charley.” He slapped him on the back and Uncle Charley smiled doubtfully and took another drink. “You bet,” went on Wiley, with method in his madness. “I’d like nothing better, when I get a little time, than to have you take me out across Death Valley. What’s it like, over there, Charley? Is it very far to water? But I’ll bet you know every trail!”
“I know ’em all,” announced Charley proudly, “but here’s one that nobody knows. It’s the trail to the Ube-Hebes. First you go from here to Daylight Springs, but they ain’t no feed around there, so you go over the divide and down six miles and camp at Hole-in-the-Rock. And there they’s good feed and plenty of good water and a tin house where the freighters used to camp; and then you fill your tanks and the next day you follow the wash till it takes you down to Stovepipe Wells. That water is bad but the burros will drink it if you bail the hole out first, and the next day you cross the sand-hills and the Death Valley 185Sink and head for Cottonwood wash. Many is the man that has started for that gateway and died before he reached the water, but the Colonel─”
Charley stopped abruptly and looked around for Heine and then he poured out a drink.
“He’s dead now,” he concluded, but Wiley caught his eye and shook his head disapprovingly.
“Not between friends,” he said. “Ain’t we drunk here together? Well, tell me the truth now–where is he? And listen here, Charley; I’ll tell you something first that will make it all right with the Colonel. All he has to do is to come back to Keno and I’ll give him his share in the mine. Then we can throw in together, and, when we get through, old Blount will be left holding the sack. Do you get the idea? I’m trying to be friends, but you’ve got to take me over to the Colonel!”
“The Colonel is dead!” repeated Charley doggedly and then he cocked his head to one side. “Don’t you hear ’em?” he asked, “it’s them Germans or something─”
“Never mind!” said Wiley sharply. “I’m talking about the Colonel, and I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I can’t give the mine to Virginia because she won’t take it; but the Colonel is a gentleman. He’s reasonable, Charley, and I’d get along with him fine; so come on, now–go over and tell him!”