Ramsay laughed and made no response, as he started down the cañon with Miss Gilman at his side. When they stood beside the great boulder of pink granite, with the piñon trees growing out of the cleft above, he paused.
“This is where my brother came,” he said, looking around. “I suppose he’s buried somewhere near here—if he’s buried at all. And there’s gold in these rocks.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” said the girl softly, staring at the pool with its great clusters of yucca flowers and lilies. “I suppose these flowers will all be gone in a few weeks, Mr. Ramsay?”
He gave her a whimsical look. “Can’t you make it Pat, yet?”
She shook her head, gayly enough. “Not yet. Look up there above the boulder—what a site that would be for a house!”
“You can have it,” he said, starting on again. “I want none of this place—I’d never get away from the thought of poor Alec. No, the place you should see is Hourglass Cañon. There’s a real beauty-spot, with water the year around. If I were you, I’d grubstake old Sagebrush, and set him to work looking for gold in this cañon. My brother Alec was no fool, and if he thought there was gold here in paying quantities, it is probably here. Then you come over to Hourglass Cañon with me and start your chicken-ranch.”
She gave him a laughing look. “You own that other place, then?”
“No, but I will own it as soon as the papers can be put through. Do you want half?”
“Tell you later,” she returned, and pointed. “There are the horses.”
During the next half-hour Ramsay and Miss Gilman were busy in the extreme. They unsaddled the five horses, got the poor beasts free of bridles, and then started to drive them up the cañon as far as the bend. Having found some of his own supplies lying cached among the trees, Ramsay left the girl to handle the horses and himself turned back down to the mouth of the cañon.