"Did we meet anyone? This is the only trail."
"Well, maybe it was a party of prospectors or hunters. They would not follow the road."
"They would have pack burros or mules. Nothing but horses in this bunch. They——" The surveyor turned his head quickly to look up the hill. His ear had caught the sound of a horse's feet on the mountain road above.
Holmes, looking also, saw a horseman ride leisurely around the turn and down the grade toward the canyon. Silently they watched and as the newcomer came nearer they saw that he was a Mexican. When the traveler reached the point where he should have turned aside to the water he did not pause but jogged steadily past. "By George!" exclaimed Holmes, "I believe that's one of our greasers from the outfit in Number Eight."
"I know it is," said Abe. "Perhaps you can make a guess as to what he's doing here and why he didn't stop for water." As the surveyor spoke he was rolling a cigarette, and from the cloud of smoke he watched the Mexican ride down the mountain side and disappear between the narrow walls of Devil's Canyon.
"I'm sure I don't know what he's doing. He seems to be going toward the desert. There might be a hundred different reasons why he should have been out somewhere."
"There's only one reason why he didn't stop for water at this place."
"What's that?"
"He had already watered."
"But there has been no chance for miles back!"