It was Roger's turn to blush and he did so thoroughly, while Dick burst into a roar of laughter in which the other men joined. Under its cover, Charley hustled Felicia off to bed.
At dawn the next day Roger and Dick started on their melancholy errand. The climbing was in many instances too precipitous for the horses and they made many detours. It was late in the afternoon, on a detour across a wide canyon that they came upon the end of the Von Minden drama. The canyon was really a part of the desert floor and was deep with sand. Roger it was, who first noted footprints.
"Look, Dick!" he called. "An Indian must have been here! Look at the naked footprints!"
Dick rode up beside him. "I wonder!" he said.
Both men glanced about them. "Yonder are some clothes, let's pick up this trail," suggested Dick.
"By Jove, it's Mrs. von Minden's pink wrapper!" cried Roger, "and over there are her shoes."
"Rog, we've got to brace ourselves," Dick pulled up his horse. "When folks thirst to death in the desert, they often strip off their clothes and run around in a big circle."
Roger bit his dry lips. "All right, Dick, come on," he muttered.
The foot marks swung in a wide circle. It was a mile farther on that they found the madam, stark naked, her gaunt face turned to the sky. She too had been dead for many days.
"I don't see why the buzzards didn't get her. Her burro wasn't Peter, he deserted her," murmured Dick. "Look, Rog, under her head."