Reluctantly the guide displayed the coat which he had dug from the sand and eagerly both visitors inspected it.
For a moment no one spoke and then the man with the scar said abruptly, "I'm sure that's old Sime Moultrie's coat."
Again there was a brief silence before the man continued, "He was a strange duffer. I have seen him off an' on the last fifteen year. He never gave up his search for a mine and I guess he never found one. Strange how a man will keep on as if he was all possessed when he has once got started prospecting."
"What do you suppose happened to him?" inquired Fred.
"There's no tellin' as long as I didn't see the skeleton. Zeke here ought to know."
"I don't know anything 'bout it," said Zeke gruffly.
"Well, the possibilities are," said the man with the scar, "that he took sick an' died. He must have been all alone and nobody can tell how long he may have been sick. As I rec'lect, he used to come in about ev'ry Spring and Fall for fresh supplies. He wouldn't 'low any one to go with him and he didn't have much to say to any one when he came in to the town."
"Did you find any papers in the coat?" inquired the second stranger, who up to this time had seldom spoken.
"Not very much. We couldn't find anything with his name on it," explained Zeke, "so we couldn't be sure whose bones they were."
"You didn't find any papers at all?" again inquired the man.