The men exchanged glances. Abruptly the small one got to his feet and led the burro out of sight among the willows. The other man faced me.
"Better take a friend's advice and keep outen there," he swept a grimy hand westward.
"What's up?"
"Better do your climbin' round hyar," he replied suggestively.
"But I want to climb Arapahoe; I have heard the Indians used it for a signal mountain and..."
He beckoned me to follow, and led the way into the grove mysteriously. At length he stopped, peered about uneasily, then whispered.
"There's an ole cabin up yonder"—he faced toward Arapahoe—"that's ha'nted."
"Haunted?" my interest quickening, my fears of the depressing night forgotten.
He nodded—dead earnest.
"Are you sure about that? Did you ever see the, the——"