B. M. Bower

“ A coyote yammered on the steep hillside across the cañon mouth, and a little later Abington heard the frightened, squealing cry of a rabbit caught unawares by that coyote or another.
On a cliff just over his head, shadowed now as the moon slipped behind the hill, the ancient people he was tracing had carved intricate tribal records. These had endured far beyond the last vague legend of those whose valor had thus been blazoned before their little world, a world that had seemed so vast and imperishable, no doubt, to heroes and historians alike. ”

“ The valley straightway became enchanted ground wherein fairy folk might dance on the smooth sand strips or play laughing games of hide and seek among the strange pillars and jutting crags.
Beside the dying fire Bill Jonathan dozed, head bent with now and then an involuntary drop forward, whereupon he would rouse and glance sharply to left and right—the habit of a man who knows himself hunted, a man whose safety lies in unsleeping vigilance.
“Lie down on the tent, Bill,” Abington advised him, after his third startled awakening. “Lie down and make yourself comfortable. ”

“ Bill said between clenched jaws. “He’s the only man on earth that can do it. He pulled the robbery they laid onto me and if he don’t come clean I’ll kill him inch by inch!”
Jack Huntley turned his head and sent a glance to Bill’s face; shifted his eyes to Abington’s, that were black as ebony and quite as hard; turned again to Bill and met a cold stare that shriveled his courage to whining cowardice.
“Don’t you, Bill! I—I’m done for! You can’t hurt a dying man! You wouldn’t have the heart!” ”

“ Abington walked forward a few steps, stooped and picked up his cigarette case from the hot sand of the trail.
“Spencer founded his whole philosophy on the premise that there is a soul of goodness even in things evil,” he observed with the little hidden smile tucked into the corners of his black-bearded lips. “Your man has made off with your car, but he very thoughtfully returned my cigarette case—not altogether empty, either. Not knowing I have a full carton in the car, he has left us a cigarette apiece; which proves the soul of goodness within the evil. Will you have a smoke, sheriff?” ”

“ Just as the cattleman will follow a range animal for half a mile, seeking the vague satisfaction of seeing what brand had been burned into its hide, Abington sat up and put on his boots, and picked up the can of carbide and miner’s lamp which he used in preference to candles when exploring dark caverns. He started climbing up a tilted shelf of rock that offered a precarious footing for a man tall enough to bridge certain places where the shelf had dropped completely away and left gaps in what may once have been a steep narrow trail. ”

“ I’ve been trying to detect the origin of the human race, for years now,” Abington smiled. “It’s the same kind of figuring brought down to modern conditions. If you’re ready, sheriff, we’ll get underway.”
So back they went, roaring up the long rough trail to the cañon and on to Tonopah. They did not meet a soul on the way, nor did they overtake Bill Jonathan and the roadster. Neither did they glimpse anywhere a sign of his turning aside from the main highway, though Park’s eyes watered from watching intently the trail. ”

“ Bill observed at last, wanting to appear friendly and awed in spite of himself before the spectacle. “When God came along and told him to knock off, looks like the devil just kicked it all to thunder and dragged his feet through the mess a few times and walked off and left it like that. Don’t you think so, professor?”
“I’ve heard theories advanced that were not half so plausible,” Abington replied, his voice once more calm and slightly ironic, as if he still doubted Bill’s sincerity. “A man could spend a lifetime in this country without exhausting its archaeological possibilities.” ”

“ There’s your revenge. Bill. Go tell him his millions in carnetite are just a dream. Tell him it’s limonite. If he’s greedy as you say, that will be punishment enough.”
“Not when he thinks he’s dying,” Bill grumbled. “He won’t give a darn. What’s he flopping around like that for?” he asked sharply. “Something bite him, do you s’pose? If it did, it’ll die,” he went on sententiously.
Abington ran over to where Jack Huntley lay on the ground. He could do nothing, with the primitive means at hand. Huntley had indeed been bitten—by death. ”

“ Even in his urgent need of finding his way back to the surface, his scientific mind ruled Abington, for he caught himself turning the lamp rays back for a second look at hieroglyphics carved high up.
“What the deuce!” he muttered. “That can mean nothing but evil—much evil—and the death of many. ”

“ He turned a corner and peered into blackness; an ancient water channel was there, no doubt. Abington lighted a match, saw that the hieroglyphics continued along the wall. Waiting only long enough to light the carbide lamp, he set off along the narrow passage, pausing now and then to study the inscriptions as he went.
Broad chambers receded into blackness beyond the white light of his lamp and these he hastily explored before going on. Labyrinthine passageways were revealed as he turned the light this way and that, each opening inscribed with strange symbols carved in the rock at the sides. ”

“ Wonder, now, if Bill didn’t raid his own cave and hide the stuff!
“A full burro load of grub—with gun and ammunition he could live all winter—h’m!” He went on: “Looking now for a hideout—place where I can’t find him! Bill, my lad, you should pay more attention to details; one little oversight—such as a cigarette stub—has hanged a man before now. A good inch and a half of tobacco wasted here. You’ll be wanting a cigarette very badly, Bill, before you get another supply, remember.” ”

“ Abington exclaimed to himself in the whisper that was his habit when alone. “The ancient people who lived here seem to have had a Scribblers’ Club of very active members! An ancient catacomb, or I’m mistaken. That, or else these symbols were carved with the express purpose of misleading one. H’m! An attempt to confuse the devil and thwart him in his search for the souls of the dead! Now here’s a pretty problem for an archaeologist. Let’s see if I am smarter than the devil!” ”

“ It would make a splendid hideout, Bill. There’s a spring, and cracks in the rock let in sunlight, a perfect retreat. Impossible to come at one from the rear—”
Abington paused and his shoulders moved involuntarily. He was thinking of the Pool of Evil Death. “I’ll show you the place. When I am through in this country you’ll find it useful, no doubt.”
“Not unless Jack Huntley dies. If I can ever get him in somehow to the sheriff, I won’t need to hide out in the hills. Unless,” Bill added dubiously, “they cinch me for that car I run over the cliff.” His eyes clouded. ”

“ Abington said with brutal directness. “Laws are better kept than broken, as you will probably agree, and it ill becomes a loyal citizen to help any man dodge the penalty for his misdeeds. On the other hand, even lawbreakers may contribute something to the general welfare of the world. Discovering the skeletal relics of a man of the Cretaceous period may not materially help to liquidate the national debt, but it would be a priceless contribution to the scientific knowledge of the human race.” ”

“ He glanced at the approaching car, set the canteen in the sand and helped himself to a cigarette from a silver-trimmed leather case. Abington was leaning against the rear fender in the narrow bit of shade when the roadster came down upon him, slowed with a squealing of dry brakes and stopped perforce. In the rocks and deep sand that bordered the road a caterpillar truck could scarcely have driven around the stalled car. ”

“ Treasures of the storied past, records of prehistoric settlements of the American Indian, lure a young archaeologist, Professor Abington, to the Sonora caves of Arizona where fate plays him a grim trick, and makes him arbiter of the destinies of living men. ”

“ True to his word, Bill Jonathan camped apart from Abington. In this particular location he had chosen a cave half a mile up the cañon—and he had immediately set about walling up the entrance so that he must squeeze in between two rocks which he could move across the aperture at night.
“Getting close to the range of that gosh-awful thing, professor,” he had explained. “Better hunt a hole yourself and crawl into it—’specially at night. And you want to keep your eyes peeled, and don’t go prowlin’ around without your gun or a knife or something.” ”

“ Couldn’t sleep if I wanted to.”
“You’ll stay awake a darn long while, professor, if you wait to put salt on the tail of the thing that haunts this valley,” Bill opined.
Abington calmly knocked the dottle from his pipe and began to refill it, ready for another long, meditative smoke. “For every problem in the universe there is a correct answer,” he said quietly. “It is only our ignorance that makes mysteries of things simple enough in themselves. ”

“ He gave Abington another glance, a gleam in his eyes as of throttled speech.
“Have a smoke. Here, keep the case while we’re getting the car started.” Abington glanced at the officer. “You’ve no objection, I suppose?”
“Hell, no! What do you take me for? Just because I use some precautions against being brained while I’m busy driving don’t mean I’m hard boiled.” He sent a measuring glance toward either side of the straight-walled cañon. Within half a mile there was no cover for a man, and the cliffs rose sheer. “You can get out if you want to, Bill,” he said to the prisoner. ”

“ No artist would ever have dared to mix those barbaric colors, even for a desert sunset; and if he had dared his hand must have lacked the cunning of the Master Painter who daily wrought his magic here on these wild hills where men so seldom ventured. ”

“ I’ll draw on you for supplies and keep along close without trailing right with you. So you won’t get in bad if it’s found out I’m in the hills.” He looked across the fire at Abington. “How’s it strike you, professor?”
Over and over Abington had considered this very point during his month of waiting. It all depended on Bill himself, he had decided. Some men are so constituted that preying upon society is second nature to them. Others fall afoul of the law through no real criminal intent. There is a vast difference between the two types, Abington knew. It all depended on Bill. ”

“ Midway between Tonopah and Mina would be a poor spot to choose for a walk away, even if the man were free to walk, he reflected.
However desperate he might be, Bill Jonathan was no fool. He knew well enough that Park would shoot at the first hint of trouble. The deputy grunted and turned his attention to the work at hand.
Abington got out and helped claw the hot loose sand away from behind the rear wheels, got in again and steered while Park braced himself and heaved against the front fender. The car moved backward nearly a foot, and the two grinned triumphantly at one another. ”

“ Did it leave any tracks?”
“Down here in the sand are some enormous hoofprints resembling sheep or elk tracks, Bill. From its stride the beast must be as large as a camel.”
“Yeah, and I’ve known it to leave mule tracks behind it!” Bill declared glumly. “Now, maybe you’ll want to crawl into my cave, professor!”
“I may decide to let you store what supplies are left, but I myself don’t fancy caves except for research work. By the way, did you notice any eoliths in that cave of yours, Bill?” ”

“ Abington reassured him with a twitching of his bearded lips. “If we were to stay here, we could divert the trickle from the rocks and soon have another pool. But we could never be sure that it was not poisoned again. No, Bill, we’ll have to get our belongings together and move across the valley.”
“A darn hard job,” muttered Bill, “packing everything on our backs.” And he added: “That sheep thing can travel, too; don’t overlook that fact, professor.” ”

“ Abington came to a full stop which he made a rest period by slipping the heavy pack from his shoulders. Nothing loath, Bill did likewise. The two sat down on the sand beside their bundles, mopping perspiration from faces and necks.
“Bill, when I get up and stand in front of you, look past me at the sharp peak just south of the mountain—the first one on the ridge straight before us. Tell me if you see anything that might be a reflection of the sun—from a telescope, we’ll say, or more likely a pair of field glasses. No, don’t look yet. ”

“ He counted half a dozen cans of corned beef, one of the variations in diet which had been made possible by having three pack burros. Had Bill really imagined he could make Abington believe that the gosh-awful had carried off chewing tobacco and corned beef in cans?
In the face of their loss of the burros Abington had not given much thought to the missing articles from Bill’s outfit. He had visited the cave, viewed the apparent aimlessness of the demolition, had looked for tracks, and, having found the giant sheep tracks in the bottom of the cañon, paid no more attention to the wreckage. ”

“ Remember that with good glasses a man could read the expression on your face, read your lips, too, if he’s had any training.”
At the first sentence Bill’s face had hardened. “You don’t have to preach caution to a man that’s been on the dodge long as I have,” he muttered bitterly, under cover of lighting a cigarette. “Shoot. What d’you think—that it’s an officer, maybe?”
“I’m not thinking past the field glasses that I believe are focused on us,” Abington parried, rising and standing so that his back was to the ridge while he held up his watch before Bill’s face. ”