But Scotty was obdurate. Start he would, that night, and, as some one had to stay with Blaze and the horses, he insisted on it being Niltci. That didn’t suit Big John, for in a raw iron land like this the Indian boy was worth a dozen Scottys to him. The row gathered way, but you might as well argue with one of the lava boulders around Papago Tanks as try to convince a Scotchman!
“Wall, s’pose you and Niltci do this-yer pasear, then? An’ I’ll stay,” said Big John, testily, by way of settling it. “Mind you don’t go further’n that crater, though, an’ then come back an’ report.”
There being no further objections, Niltci and Scotty soon set off into the night, leading Ruler on a slip leash. Overhead swung the brilliant stars of an Arizona night, a glory of soft light in which crater cones, rugged lava pressure ridges and stunted saguarros sticking up out of the rocks showed dimly. Behind them the grand range of Pinacate rose gloomy and majestic, the eternal cloud of sulphur vapor around its summit blotting out a whole section of the star canopy to the south. Niltci led on noiselessly, picking his way by eyesight that was as good as a cat’s in the dark. They passed white smoke trees, ghostly as clouds, in the darkness, growing in company with white brittle bushes out of dry crannies in the lava that could hardly support a cactus.
An hour later they were toiling up the steeps of the crater once more. So far, not even a whine of discovery had come from Ruler. Big John had given them the hobbles of Sid’s pinto, to show the scent to the dog when the right time came to try to make him understand what was wanted. But Niltci himself knew the pinto’s tracks by some obscure difference in the hoof-mark, and he assured Scotty that so far not a sign of Sid’s horse had they come upon.
“He may have come down into the crater from the other gap, though,” objected Scotty; “we’ll go down and get my canteen, anyhow.”
They climbed down into the vast coliseum of the crater. It was dark as a well down there, and Niltci crept along on all fours, following the pony tracks. He pointed out Blaze’s paw prints as they went. The dog had been here, too, following their party of the afternoon. After a time Scotty gave a yelp of discovery and pounced on a round brown object lying on the sand.
“Here’s my canteen, anyhow!” he crowed. “I left it here after we butchered the antelope.”
Then a cry of surprise came from him as he stopped dead and held out the canteen to Niltci to examine. It was empty of water and the crooked angle of the spout showed that it had been cracked open. “It was more than half full this afternoon, I’m sure of that!” insisted Scotty, excitedly. “Some one’s been here beside us—but why did he not uncork it, then?”
Niltci looked it over keenly.
“Dog! Blaze do it. Him chew canteen. Him have come a long way,” was his verdict.