“Stony’s ghost maybe,” Jack said, chuckling. Then he sobered. “Guess we should warn the fellows. Someone might be prowling around here even now.”
“What you’re suggesting is sort of fantastic,” Ken protested. “This ghost town is out of the way. Why would anyone except Walz come here?”
“Maybe word has leaked out about Stony’s cache of gold.”
“Whoever it is, he’s been here for quite a while, Jack. Not just overnight.”
His gaze sharpened by Ken’s remark, Jack made a more minute inspection of the room. He saw a pile of empty tin cans, a clear indication that someone had eaten many meals here. Match stubs were scattered on the floor. The rotted boards, too, had been tracked heavily with mud, that was now dry.
Disturbed by their discovery, Ken and Jack went to warn the others. By this time, however, the Scouts had wandered through every building in the little town without seeing anyone.
“If anyone was here, he’s gone now,” Willie remarked, unworried.
Mr. Warner was inclined to think a prospector searching for uranium might have chanced that way. He seemed untroubled, so Jack and Ken decided they probably were making too much of the matter. No more was said.
Of far more concern was War’s state of weariness. Though he made no complaint and stubbornly insisted he felt able to go on, everyone could see that his strength had been overtaxed. After a quiet talk, Mr. Livingston and the rancher decided to make camp at the ghost town.
“You’re stopping because of me,” War protested. “I can make it okay.”