Apparently fifty years back many animals and treasure-hunting prospectors must have made a well-beaten trail, coming up by way of the canyon and arriving at the open place marking the plateau.
"Easy enough," acknowledged Lanky, one of whose best qualities was frankness when owning up to being surprised in anything. "But there! Jerry's started to lead the way into the ghostly camp. Let's go!"
No one joked or laughed as thus solemnly they walked their winded ponies among those amazing wrecks of old-time life and bustle; it was too much like passing through a cemetery long since abandoned and fallen upon evil times.
"Most of them seem to have been roughly built shacks, made out of pinon trees cut on the side of the mountain, though I can see some cedar among them—yes, and oak, besides. It's the story of the 'Deserted Village' all over again, only no pestilence brought about this desolation."
"The whole bunch was wild to pick up gold nuggets," said Lanky. "Anyway, that's what Jerry told us; and when the bubble burst they cleared out bag and baggage."
"What do you suppose that largest building was for?" asked Paul.
"The only two-story one in the whole caboodle, you mean?" Lanky replied. "I'd judge it might have been used as a hotel, or tavern, where the fresh arrivals could put up and be fleeced till they found time to throw a shack together."
"There's an old faded sign over the door," Frank put in. "As near as I can make out it reads: 'El Dorado Hotel, Accommodations for Man and Beast.'"
"Lots of good eats served in that place, I'd say," ventured Lanky, who himself was hungry.
"Here's a place that looks as if it used to be one of those dance halls, where the miners gathered at night to have a lively time, what with gambling, carousing, and the like."