ruitful. You are sure this binding
matches that of the books you bought?"

"Certain. This was bound to order, as were the other three. They were part
of someone's personal library--had no bookplate, though."

"And what was Stein's story concerning them?"

"An old prospector named Lutterfield found them in a trunk in some cave he
located out in the desert country. He brought them in to trade for
supplies."

"Lutterfield," Rennie repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, that could be."

"Trunk in a cave?" Herrera was skeptical. "But why leave books in a trunk
in a cave?"

"One of Kitchell's caches? Or else left by someone who cleared out in '61
and had to travel light. If anything remains, perhaps Lutterfield can
locate it for us later. Anyway this"--Rennie took the book box from Drew,
clapped the cover over, hiding the treasure--"won't go to Mexico now. And
if the owner is still alive, we may even find him--who knows? You had your
sleep out, boy?"

Drew found Rennie's expression one of indifference. Maybe _Don_ Cazar no
longer regarded him with the cold dislike Drew had met at the camp, but
they were still strangers. What he had once said back in Kentucky at a
remote and distant time was very true now. "Maybe Hunt Rennie doesn't know
I exist; maybe we won't even like each other if and when we do meet ... I
don't know...."

Now Drew thought he did know. Was this insurmountable barrier all his
fault? Because he had been so sure he wanted to go it on his own--come to
his father as an equal and not a beggar? But could he ever have acted
differently? Too independent, too defensive always--Alexander Mattock had
made him like that. Now it seemed that his grandfather had won, after all.
Because his grandson was the kind of man he was, there would be no meeting
with Hunt Rennie to claim kinship, nothing more than what now existed.

"I'm all right." After too long a pause, Drew replied to his father's
question. "Do we just keep on sittin' here?"

"If necessary, Chino, pass those supplies you brought in. We eat cold, at
least for now."

"You look ready to up saddle 'n ride." Anse was waiting behind Drew's
rock. His arm rested in a sling with a neat and reasonably clean bandage
about his wound.

"How's that hole?" Drew asked with renewed concern.

"Nothin' much more'n a nick. Say, th' Old Man's like a real doc, ain't he?
Carries doc's things in his saddlebags an' patched me up last night so I'm
near as good as new. After I drunk