head went badly astray. I started to cut through the bush. At last I
came to the edge of a steep ravine. I clambered down the sides into
the gully below. I thought it looked like an old trail, and I followed
it. So narrow was it at times that the walls almost touched. But I
went on. Then it widened, and I knew that at last I was in a trail,
long since abandoned--and how old, only the good God himself knew!

"But my story grows as long as the trail! On and on I went, crossing
stream after stream, scaring snakes from my path, frightening the
birds above, who doubtless have never seen men in that region, all the
time thinking I was going toward the Tigui, until at last the old
sunken trail led me up a tremendous hill. At the top, buried in a
dense matting of brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were the
remains of an ancient _arrastra_. Further on I found another; and
still another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, long
since gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a gully, where
but little water flowed. It was lined with quartz bowlders. I struck
off a piece from one of the largest. It showed specks of gold! My eyes
danced! I forgot that I was lost! I went on up the stream, striking
off piece after piece from the great rocks. Every one showed specks of
free gold. _Caramba_! I reached the top of the hill. _Hombre_! how can
I tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. Some of
these were still open, where they had been driven through the hard
rock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, in which I always carry
matches and a bit of candle. I entered one of the open tunnels. _Dios
arriba_! far within I crossed a quartz vein--I scraped it with my
_machete_. _Caramba_! it could not have been less than six feet in
width--and all speckled with gold! Above it, far into the blackness,
where bats were scurrying madly, the ore had been taken out long, long
ago. In the darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Every
one bore the inscription, 'I de R.' Your grandfather, Padre, put his
stamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to place
myself, my father's oft-told story of the location of the mine flashed
into my brain. My memory is good, Padre. And I knew then where I was.
I was at the headwaters of the Borrachera. _And I had discovered La
Libertad_!"

Reed's eager ears had drunk in every word of the old man's dramatic
story. His practical mind had revolved its