too long. She came right out here from the East and offered to marry
him, but he had to give up his fighting. He was a bad man--you see? He
was quick with a gun, and she was afraid he'd go out and get killed. So
I laugh at him now and he goes avay and leaves me--but he von't let me
talk with his vife. She's an awful nice woman but----"

"Danged right she is!" put in Denver with sudden warmth and after a
rapid questioning glance the Professor closed his mouth.

"Vell, I guess I'll be going," he said at last and Denver did not urge
him to stay.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SILVER TREASURE

As evening came on and the red eye of the sun winked and closed behind a
purple range of mountains Denver Russell came out of his cliff-dwelling
cave and looked at the old town below. Mysterious shadows were gathering
among the ruins, the white walls stood out ghostly and still, and as a
breeze stirred the clacking leaves of the sycamores a voice mounted up
like a bird's. It rose slowly and descended, it ran rippling arpeggios
and lingered in flute-like trills; but it was colorless, impersonal,
void of feeling.

It was more like a flute than like the voice of a bird that pours out
its soul for joy; it was perfect, but it was not moving. Only as the
spirit of the desolate town--as of some lost soul, pure and
passionless--did it find its note of appeal and Denver sighed and sat
silent in the darkness. His thoughts strayed far away, to his boyhood in
the mountains, to his wanderings from camp to camp; they leapt ahead to
the problem that lay before him, the choice between the silver and gold
treasures; and then, drowsy and oblivious, he left the voice still
singing and groped to his bed in the cave.

All night the prying pack-rats, dispossessed of their dwelling, raced
and gnawed and despoiled his provisions; but when the day dawned Denver
left them to do their worst, for his mind was on greater things. At
another time, when he was not so busy, he would swing some rude
cupboards on wires and store his food out of reach; but now he only
stopped to make a hasty breakfast and started off up the trail. When the
sun rose, over behind Apache Leap, and cast its black shadow among the
hills, Denver was up on the rim-rock, looking out on the promised land
that should yield him two precious treasures.

The rim where he stood was uptilted and broken, a huge stratified wall
like the edge of a layer cake or the leaves of some mighty book. They