His voice was a little hoarse, and there was an odd gleam in his eyes. When they were in the saddle again, he urged his horse forward at a speed which presently brought a protest from Jessup.
“Yuh better take it easy, old man,” he cautioned. “If that cayuse steps in a hole, you’re apt to get a jolt that’ll put you out of business.”
“I don’t guess it’ll hurt me,” returned Stratton with preoccupied brevity.
Bud gave a resigned shrug, and for ten minutes the silence remained unbroken. Then all at once Buck 238 gave a muttered exclamation and pulled his horse up with a jerk.
They were on the rim of a wide, shallow depression in the sand. There was nothing remarkable about it at first sight, save, perhaps, the total absence of desert vegetation for some distance all around. But Stratton slid hastily out of his saddle, flung the reins over Pete’s head, and walked swiftly forward. Thrilled with a sudden excitement and suspense, Bud followed.
“What is it?” he questioned eagerly, as Buck bent down to scoop up a handful of the trampled sand. “What have yuh—”
He broke off abruptly as Stratton turned suddenly on him, eyes dilated and a spot of vivid color glowing on each cheek-bone.
“Don’t you see?” he demanded, thrusting his hand toward the boy. “Don’t you understand?”
Staring at the open palm, Jessup’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“Good Lord!” he gasped. “You don’t mean that it—it’s—”