In the old trail, where once the cannon of Phil Kearney had rumbled, as with his army he hurried forward to Santa Fe, and along where Coronado, Lee, Fremont, and Kit Carson had ridden, now the wild mignonette, in spikes of purple, fragrant blossoms, grew, loading the sultry air with their rich odors. The sensitive-rose, its fern-like foliage tufted with rosy balls of gold-flecked down, closed its leaves as Clifford hurriedly brushed by; but in the tangled thickets of wild indigo, now blooming in sprays of violet and creamy flowers, or among the tall, lush, blue stem-grass the young "fortune hunter" found no traces of the lost wealth—no sunken graves were visible to tell of that tragedy of long ago; so it was with a slow step and feeling of despondency that our friend sought the shelter of his latticed porch.
While he sat, lost in speculation as to the best method of prosecuting his search, which he was too resolute to give up easily, his eyes rested on an implement that at a glance showed its adaptability for the very purpose. It was a long rod of iron, tipped with twisted steel. He remembered having had it made the year before for the men who were searching for a vein of water before sinking his wells. As he seized it eagerly, and started once again down the hill, he felt gratified and elated to perceive how easily he could now test the earth to the depth of five feet, and ascertain if there was any foreign substance in the mellow, loamy soil, which throughout the valley was a bed of rich, black loam, entirely free from stone or boulders.
He had but reached the spot near the river, when he saw his father riding through the wheat-field toward where our young schemer stood; and hastily tossing the iron rod into a thicket, Clifford met his father with an assumption of careless indifference; for all his allusions in the past to the lost fortune had only met with the sarcastic disapproval of his parent, who, being an intensely practical man himself, could not tolerate any thing so visionary as a search for the treasure seemed to be; and young Warlow had decided to keep his investigations secret, thus avoiding the censure and ridicule of the colonel. After a brief discussion in regard to the condition of the ripening grain, Clifford remarked:—
"It seems very strange, father, that no trace can be found of those graves which Uncle Roger mentioned having seen near the Old Corral, when he found you after the robbery and massacre."
"This is too busy a time for us to speculate on the past, my boy. The wheat has ripened splendidly—I never saw a field to equal that valley yonder—and we will have to start the header to-morrow; so if you will ride out on to the Flats and engage three more teams, I will go down to Squire Moreland's and tell them we shall begin early in the morning," said the colonel.
"But, father, first tell me as nearly as possible where those graves were located; for I have a strange curiosity regarding them of late. It must be near this very spot?"
"Yes, yes; near that old cottonwood-tree, or on the level space of sod just this side. But Clifford," continued he in a tone of suspicion quite foreign to the kindly colonel, "what nonsense are you meditating now? You are not still counting on that lost fortune?"
"Well, father, there has been a growing belief in my mind of late that the treasure is secreted near here. Think how impossible it would have been for a leader of such a band as those savages were, to divide the booty satisfactorily among the pack of drunken monsters. If the leader had the acumen that I believe he possessed, he, no doubt, buried the gold, at least, in one of those graves while the others were stupefied by the liquor; and there is a chance that he may never have returned, owing to the dangers to which such turbulent villains are always exposed. I have thought this over carefully, until at last I am convinced—"
"That your father has a damned fool for a son!" broke in the colonel hotly, as he rode away.
After supper Clifford said he would go up to his house and spend the night—an announcement which caused no surprise, as he frequently stayed there; but on this occasion Robbie remarked to Maud:—