Don Palmer

“ Livingston and Craig Warner were puzzled, for the rancher said again that he knew of no prospector who frequented Crazy Mountain.
“Why would anyone want to prevent us from reaching the pass?” he speculated. “Walz would have a reason, but I doubt he ever got this far. Even with Ranier he certainly couldn’t have made it.”
“Someone else may know about the cache of gold,” Jack suggested.
“It begins to look that way,” Warner agreed. “Either that, or we’re dealing with a screwball. If a man lives too long alone—well, sometimes his mind becomes twisted.” ”

“ It was too late to search that night for the caches of gold ore which Old Stony had claimed he hid in the hollow. Feeling almost as if they were intruders in the valley, the Scouts set about preparing supper.
Warner fished the lake, bringing in a nice mess of trout. It heartened the group. They had decided to hoard enough of the meager supplies for an emergency return to Elks Creek if necessary.
“Willie and War should be able to get help to us by tomorrow,” Mr. Livingston said. “If the Forest Service plane drops food, we’ll be all right. ”

“ Ken contributed. “Peculiar, though—the lone-wolf type. His exact words were: ‘If Warner likes you, he’ll give you the shirt off his back. If he doesn’t, watch out! He judges a man fast, and once an opinion is formed, he doesn’t change his mind.’”
“Let’s hope he takes a liking to us,” Mr. Livingston remarked. “Not that it matters. We’ll give him the map and be on our way.”
The car made slow time on the winding dirt road. However, the way was scenic, if dusty. Rugged, snow-tipped mountains rimmed the valley. Their high peaks were circled with lazy, fleecy clouds. ”

“ With a pencil, he made a dotted line, showing their projected route over the top of the mountain and down to an isolated valley. Then the line went up again into the higher, desolate peaks of Crazy Mountain.
“Our problem—if we follow Walz that far,” the rancher said, frowning thoughtfully, “is to find a pass through to the Headless Hollow region. It may not be easy. So if anyone wants to turn back, now’s the time to say so.”
One and all, the Scouts shook their heads.
“Okay,” Warner said, well pleased. “Then let’s hit the trail. No time is to be lost if we’re going to overtake Walz.” ”

“ Mr. Livingston asked the rancher. “None whatsoever?”
Warner shook his head. “The ledge above us plays out entirely, and the one beyond can’t be reached. We’re in a pocket.”
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“Then we’ll have to accept the situation,” the Scout leader said, getting wearily to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Nearing exhaustion as they were, it seemed to Ken and Jack that they could not trudge another mile. But they forced themselves to follow Warner. Knowing that their safety depended upon reaching the wider ledges before darkness completely enveloped the mountain, he took them at a brutal pace. ”

“ Warner replied with a smile. “I was a boy at the time, so all I know is hearsay. At first, feeling was high against Stony, because people thought he was responsible for my father’s death. My mother never shared that feeling. She always said the man was falsely accused—that it must have been an accident. But you know how folks are—they always want to blame someone. Stony could have cleared himself, but he ran away, and that made it look bad.” ”

“ Definitely, he recalled that the two caches of gold had been close to each other at the mouth of a ravine. But the years might have wrought changes in the terrain. Wind and rain and rock slides could have altered the area.
For that matter, with the valley inhabited, might not the gold long ago have been removed?
Jack’s thoughts rambled back to his last talk with Stony in the hospital. Then he had seriously doubted that the prospector had found gold in this remote valley. Now that he was here, he had gradually begun to believe that the tale had been true. ”

“ Laboring under the heavy packs, the Scouts perspired profusely. Their leg muscles, tough as they were, began to ache. No one, however, made complaint or suggested a slower pace. When they paused to drink at a spring and refill canteens, Warner consulted the rough map he had redrawn from memory and compared it with an accurate contour map.
“It’s only fair to warn you,” he said, “the climb so far is only a tiny taste of what’s ahead.” ”

“ Livingston started to leave, with a feeble gesture of his hand the prospector waved them back.
“Just one thing more,” he said, his voice husky. “The gold—Craig Warner’s share—you’ll find it—”
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A nurse had come to the bedside. With a quick glance at the patient, she told the two visitors they had to leave at once.
Old Stony summoned all his failing strength. Gazing steadily at Jack and Hap, he said clearly: “The bag of pinto beans. The bag of beans. You understand?”
To satisfy the dying old man, the two visitors nodded. Stony fell back on the pillow, a smile on his thin lips. ”

“ Jack said.
“Afraid not.” Warner placed the map in a drawer of the living-room desk. “But the area might offer uranium possibilities.”
“Has no one ever been there?” Ken asked. “Recently, I mean?”
“Folks hereabouts are too busy to risk their necks on crazy climbs. Besides, as I told you, the area has a bad reputation.”
“You said something about a prospector disappearing there,” Warwick reminded him.
“That was Joe Hansart. He was a strange character—one of the real old-timers—always asking folks to grubstake him. He’d disappear for months at a time. Always broke when he showed up again. ”

“ They waited. Suddenly the tunnel was rocked by a terrific explosion. As they hit the earth, covering their faces, small bits of rock showered down. When the dust had cleared, they groped their way back to the entrance. Climbing up through the debris, they saw daylight. Warner squeezed out through the tumbled rocks, and reached down to help Jack.
“We’re free and still in one piece,” the rancher chuckled.
Setting out from the ravine, they started for the cabin. However, they had covered less than a third of the distance when they saw Hap Livingston and Ken coming toward them at a run. ”

“ Livingston and Jack paused beside him, the old fellow opened his eyes and managed to grin feebly.
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“How are you feeling?” Jack asked, because he could think of nothing else to say.
“Not so hot,” Old Stony returned. His bloodless fingers plucked at the sheet. “Reckon I’m about ready to mount my pale white horse and ride to the last roundup.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Livingston tried to reassure him. “In a few days you’ll snap out of this. There’s fighting spirit in you, Stony.” ”

“ While Ken was carrying out the order, the other Scouts dressed Stony’s wound. He made no further attempt to talk, but now and then managed to grin at them in a feeble way.
Jack and Willie made a fast tour of the motel grounds. However, it did not surprise them that they found no trace of the man who had so brutally attacked the cabin dweller.
“Whoever he is, he’ll be a mile from here by now,” Jack remarked as they walked back. “No question about it, theft was the motive.”
“The old man’s gold and map?”
“Right.”
“You think there is any gold?” Willie asked skeptically. ”

“ Old Stony shuddered and seemed unable to go on. But with an effort, he forced himself to resume:
“So far as we knew, there weren’t any human beings within forty miles of Headless Valley. We never set eyes on a soul all that summer. But one morning my podner showed up missing. I found him by the diggings, dead with a bullet hole through the back of his head.”
“What did you do?” Jack asked, becoming more engrossed.
“I buried him not far from the little cabin we had built. Marked the grave with his name too.”
“Who killed John Warner?” Mr. Livingston asked. ”

“ Walz demanded.
“Men have gone there,” Warner drawled, “but they don’t seem to come back.”
The remark jarred Walz for a moment. “You’re trying to scare me out of it!” he accused.
“No,” the rancher answered quietly. “Just giving you the facts. I reckon a good mountain climber who’s willing to take punishment could reach the place, but he’d have to face hazards.”
“Bears? Cougars?”
“Animals shouldn’t give any trouble if a man minds his business.”
“Then what is holding us back?” Walz demanded impatiently. “Are you afraid of the climb?”
“It may be tricky finding a pass down into the valley.” ”

“ Happy started to say.
“Watch it,” Jack warned in an undertone.
Quick as a flash, he scooped the map from the floor, thrusting it under his jacket.
The reason for his action was immediately apparent. Footsteps had been heard on the gravel driveway outside the cabin. Before the Scouts could move away from the fireplace, Jarrett Walz loomed on the threshold. His suspicious glance roved from one face to another, but the Scouts volunteered no explanation for their presence in the cabin. ”

“ Dead.”
“You’re looking at a ghost town, Jack. No one has lived there for thirty years.”
“No one?”
“That’s right. The town flourished in the old gold days—then was deserted. It’s cut off from roads and railroads. All supplies had to be packed in. So when the gold bubble blew up, miners pulled out.”
“Well, the town has an occupant now,” Jack announced, a trace of excitement in his voice.
“Walz?” the rancher demanded eagerly.
Jack shook his head, offering the glass to Warner.
“Not Walz. His guide, perhaps. I saw a fellow with long white hair and a beard. ”

“ Then the other three noticed that the rancher had turned his gaze toward the distant pass which guarded Headless Hollow. Far above them, on the high cliffs, they saw two struggling men.
“Walz and Joe Hansart!” Jack exclaimed. “They’re fighting.”
The watchers below were too far away to see the struggle plainly. It was apparent, though, what had happened. Evidently Walz had attempted to leave the valley with his sack of sample gold, and Joe Hansart had caught him. Now the two were locked in a death struggle. As the Explorers watched in horror, the two men fought close to the edge of the cliffs. ”

“ Jack asked, puzzled.
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“It’s because of my past. Craig doesn’t know this—he thinks I’m Hank Stone, a screwball prospector. That’s the way I want it. But the reason I kept in touch all these years is because he’s the only son o’ my old podner, John Warner.”
The effort of talking had tired Old Stony. He lay a while with eyes closed and then continued.
“I’m not one to deal from the bottom of a deck. I’m honest, I am. That’s why I’ve never trusted Jarrett Walz. Maybe I’m being unfair. He gave me a job, and for that I’m grateful. But I’d never trust him with my secret.” ”

“ As Jack and the rancher watched, Joe Hansart wheeled and trotted off over the rocks in the general direction of the pass.
“We missed our chance to nab him,” Jack said, emerging.
“Yes, but he has my gun, and it’s probably loaded,” Warner replied. “If he sees us he may shoot. The poor old fellow seems completely off his rocker.” ”

“ Warner shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he makes trips out, though not to Elks Creek. Probably he stashes food for the winter. In the summer, a man of his ingenuity could get along on very little.”
“But why would he stay here year after year?”
“Evidently he’s been seized with gold fever, Jack, and it has twisted his brain.”
“You think he’s found Old Stony’s caches?”
“I suspect so, Jack. Perhaps he has even stumbled onto a rich vein in that pit mine. Let’s find out.”
Making certain the old prospector had not doubled back on his trail, the two dropped down into the hole. ”

“ But if he didn’t believe it, why did he paw through everything in the cabin?”
“Including that bag of pinto beans.”
“Yeah, Ken, it’s just possible he found a few nuggets in the beans—enough to get him excited about the map.”
“What did you think of his crack about the curse of Headless Hollow?”
“Melodrama. Maybe he wanted to discourage us from going there.”
“If so,” Ken grinned, “he went about it the wrong Way. He should know that adventure is our dish!”
“Walz may know more about Old Stony’s past than he’s letting on,” Jack said thoughtfully. “You notice he gets his statements mixed. ”

“ Nevertheless, he agreed with the Scouts that Walz ought to be brought to justice and forced to pay for the articles he had stolen.
“Besides,” War urged eagerly, “don’t we owe it to Stony to see that Walz never gets his hands on any gold?”
“I can see you’re all for the trip,” Mr. Livingston said. “But isn’t this a job for the sheriff?”
“It is,” Warner agreed, “but getting the sheriff to tackle Crazy Mountain is another proposition. He’ll never do it.”
The whole matter was debated thoroughly, and in the end the Scout leader was persuaded by the Explorers to give his consent. ”

“ While the Scouts were mailing cards home, Mr. Livingston made a few inquiries about Mr. Walz. The information he received was not very helpful. However, the motel owner seemed to be well regarded in the community.
“So far as I can gather, this is the picture,” Mr. Livingston told the Explorers. “Walz did give Stony a home when the old fellow wasn’t able to do much work. He’s considered a hard driver but fair. Stony wasn’t too grateful for what he received.”
“Maybe we misjudged Walz,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Well, what’s our decision?”
“How can we lose by taking him up?” Willie argued. ”

“ Willie remarked to Jack as they checked the tires before driving on.
“Maybe,” Jack agreed. “Time will tell.”
Once the party was well beyond the Colorado border, Walz began to suggest short-cut roads which he said would greatly reduce the mileage. Feeling that the motel owner knew the country, Mr. Livingston and the Explorers accepted his advice. But as the roads became increasingly poor, they wondered if they actually were saving any time. Late in the afternoon, when they were confronted with a choice of highways, Mr. Livingston stopped the car so as to study the road map. ”

“ Jack asked, after a long silence.
“I hate to say this, boys,” the rancher replied. “But we’re up against it. There’s nothing we can do but turn back.”
Jack poked at the rocks with a stick, thinking over the rancher’s decision. He knew it was a wise one. So did all the Scouts.
“It’s like this,” Warner said. “I’ve made a fast check of our supplies. If we don’t have any further bad luck, there’s barely enough food to get us to Headless Valley, with nothing for the return trip.”
“Fish,” Willie said hopefully. “We could cut our rations.” ”