You see he used to come in twice a
year for supplies and then he would start out prospecting and not show up
again for six months, or until his supplies ran low."
"How old a man was he?" inquired John.
"Sixty-three or sixty-six, I should reckon," replied Zeke glibly. "He was
a bit off, same as I was telling you, and had just gone dippy on the
subject of finding a mine."
"And you say he did find one or two?"
"He thought he did find one or two, but when he came to follow them up,
why the stuff didn't assay worth a cent, or else it was just a little
pocket he had happened to find. What do you think ought to be done with
these bones?" again inquired the guide.
"The best thing to do is to bury them and mark the spot just as John
said," said Fred.
The suggestion was speedily acted upon and taking the spade which had been
found Zeke soon digged a grave in the soft soil. Then carefully and
silently the bones of the unfortunate man were collected and covered. A
bleached limb of a mesquite tree which had doubtless been torn away and
been carried far from its location by one of the terrific wind storms that
occasionally sweep over the region, was thrust into the ground at the head
of the little grave.
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