“Jest this ’ere way: ’bout ten miles north is a bigger hill nor this—a hill kivered with loose rocks. Thar’s a devilish peart place ter make a stand thar—and it’s only three miles from the sweetest water yer ever tasted—Alkali Creek. It’s what them fellers that think they know so much when they don’t know nuthin’—book-writers—call a subter-rain again stream.”
“Subterranean,” corrected Sam. “Alkali Creek does not, by its name, give any great promise.”
“Wal, thar’s good water thar; it ain’t very cold, but it’s sweet, an’ that’s the main thing.”
“I believe we would make a strike by going,” added Cimarron Jack. “I know the hill—it is a strange place. Men have been seen to ride up to it, and suddenly disappear, and all efforts to find them have been useless. However, for a year there’s been nothing wrong about it, and I, for one, move we go as quick as we can. The sun is only three or four hours high, and time is scarce. Besides we may find the young Miss there.”
Mr. Wheeler groaned, and Carpenter looked gloomy, but they both agreed with Jack. Of course, the rest were bound to follow them.
The hasty resolve was soon put in execution. The horses were watered from the butt, and attached to the wagons; the drivers mounted their saddles, and the horsemen trotted away, past the ghastly red bodies, past the coyotes, under the wheeling vultures, bound for the Hillock.
CHAPTER IX.
GONE—GONE!
On that same afternoon, and about sunset or a little later, Pedro was eating a frugal supper in the hollow hillock with Kissie.
Both were downcast. She, on account of her friends, was uneasy and sad, while he was still experiencing the fear of dealing with something not of this world. The mysterious voice he knew so well of old, that terrible form he had seen, still haunted him. And more; the sudden disappearance of the apparition highly alarmed him and kept his nerves strung to the highest tension, and he expected every moment to see it stalk in upon him.