"Yes," replied the Spaniard, "there is a good spring at the foot of the Pass."
They found it all right, in the entrance to the Pass, where there was a small green cove, surrounded with bushes, and on one side was a sheep herder's shanty. Jo investigated this immediately and found nothing in it but the charred remnants of a fire and a pair of discarded overalls.
Jim, who had himself been looking around, made a more important find.
"There has been somebody here recently," he announced. "Here are some tracks around the spring and not over twelve hours old."
"Yes, I have no doubt," said the Spaniard carelessly puffing at his cigarette. "This Pass is used occasionally by ranchmen and herders."
"There have been five or six horses here," said Jim, whose experiences had made him suspicious.
"There are no Indians," said Jo, "in this section, at least none who are on the warpath."
"I suppose you do have cattle rustlers, Senor?" inquired Jim.
"Yes, there is a band of outlaws," replied the Spaniard, "that raids from as far north as our ranch, south to San Diego, but we have seen no trace of them for many months."
"Then, Senor," remarked Jim, "it is about time that they paid you another visit."