“Not quite. A town is hidden down there on the slope. I can see buildings.”
The rancher smiled broadly. “Any people?”
Again Jack studied the distant cluster of buildings through the glass. “That’s funny,” he acknowledged. “The place looks lifeless. Dead.”
“You’re looking at a ghost town, Jack. No one has lived there for thirty years.”
“No one?”
“That’s right. The town flourished in the old gold days—then was deserted. It’s cut off from roads and railroads. All supplies had to be packed in. So when the gold bubble blew up, miners pulled out.”
“Well, the town has an occupant now,” Jack announced, a trace of excitement in his voice.
“Walz?” the rancher demanded eagerly.
Jack shook his head, offering the glass to Warner.
“Not Walz. His guide, perhaps. I saw a fellow with long white hair and a beard. I caught a glimpse of him before he went into one of the buildings.”