“Yes,” added Donald, “as you say, this secret way of getting into the mountain has been known all the way back, for hundreds of years; but so much afraid are the Zunis of their medicine man, that never once would a brave dream of following the same, to watch him talk with Manitou in the heart of the Sacred Mountain.”
“It’s a trick, then, you believe?” questioned Billie.
“No doubt about that, Billie,” Adrian replied, wishing to settle the matter once and for all in the mind of the other chum; “if you could once find
the ‘Open Sesame,’ here to this rock, the same that Ali Baba did, you remember, in the ‘Forty Thieves,’ ten to one you’d learn that the inside of the mountain has passages running through it every-which-way; and that once he gets inside the old humbug just feels able to appear and vanish whenever he feels like it, because he’s right at home.”
“Now, that sounds like hard, common-sense; and I’m beginning to think you’re on the right track after all, fellows,” Billie told them.
“That’s comforting, anyhow,” chuckled Adrian. “When we’ve advanced the argument so far that Broncho Billie approves of it, things begin to move, eh, Donald?”
“I s’pose now, that if one of your miners came along here, and set off his little dynamite cartridge right at the base of this same cliff, there’d be something showing after that, a hole in the rock that somehow we just can’t seem to find now?” was the next suggestion on the part of the stout chum; who liked to think up all sorts of strange ideas that often bordered on the ridiculous; though he had been known to give his comrades a hint once or twice that had led to good results in their hands.
“We haven’t any more business around here, have we, Ad?” asked Donald, with a little chuckle, as of amusement.
“I can’t remember having lost anything,” replied the other; “and if you’ve looked all you want
to, and marked the place with a white stone in your mind, why, I reckon we’d better vamose the ranch.”