Desert Gold | Page 4

like himself, perhaps born of a deeper, an unintelligible
relation having its roots back in the past. A long-forgotten sensation
stirred in Cameron's breast, one so long forgotten that he could
recognize it. But it was akin to pain.

II
When he awakened he found, to his surprise, that his companion had
departed. A trail in the sand led off to the north. There was no water in
that direction. Cameron shrugged his shoulders; it was not his affair; he
had his own problems. And straightway he forgot his strange visitor.
Cameron began his day, grateful for the solitude that was now

unbroken, for the canyon-furrowed and cactus-spired scene that now
showed no sign of life. He traveled southwest, never straying far from
the dry stream bed; and in a desultory way, without eagerness, he
hunted for signs of gold.
The work was toilsome, yet the periods of rest in which he indulged
were not taken because of fatigue. He rested to look, to listen, to feel.
What the vast silent world meant to him had always been a mystical
thing, which he felt in all its incalculable power, but never understood.
That day, while it was yet light, and he was digging in a moist
white-bordered wash for water, he was brought sharply up by hearing
the crack of hard hoofs on stone. There down the canyon came a man
and a burro. Cameron recognized them.
"Hello, friend," called the man, halting. "Our trails crossed again.
That's good."
"Hello," replied Cameron, slowly. "Any mineral sign to-day?"
"No."
They made camp together, ate their frugal meal, smoked a pipe, and
rolled in their blankets without exchanging many words. In the
morning the same reticence, the same aloofness characterized the
manner of both. But Cameron's companion, when he had packed his
burro and was ready to start, faced about and said: "We might stay
together, if it's all right with you."
"I never take a partner," replied Cameron.
"You're alone; I'm alone," said the other, mildly. "It's a big place. If we
find gold there'll be enough for two."
"I don't go down into the desert for gold alone," rejoined Cameron,
with a chill note in his swift reply.
His companion's deep-set, luminous eyes emitted a singular flash. It

moved Cameron to say that in the years of his wandering he had met no
man who could endure equally with him the blasting heat, the blinding
dust storms, the wilderness of sand and rock and lava and cactus, the
terrible silence and desolation of the desert. Cameron waved a hand
toward the wide, shimmering, shadowy descent of plain and range. "I
may strike through the Sonora Desert. I may head for Pinacate or north
for the Colorado Basin. You are an old man."
"I don't know the country, but to me one place is the same as another,"
replied his companion. for moments he seemed to forget himself, and
swept his far-reaching gaze out over the colored gulf of stone and sand.
Then with gentle slaps he drove his burro in behind Cameron. "Yes, I'm
old. I'm lonely, too. It's come to me just lately. but, friend, I can still
travel, and for a few days my company won't hurt you."
"Have it your way," said Cameron.
They began a slow march down into the desert. At sunset they camped
under the lee of a low mesa. Cameron was glad his comrade had the
Indian habit of silence. Another day's travel found the prospectors deep
in the wilderness. Then there came a breaking of reserve, noticeable in
the elder man, almost imperceptibly gradual in Cameron. Beside the
meager mesquite campfire this gray-faced, thoughtful old prospector
would remove his black pipe from his mouth to talk a little; and
Cameron would listen, and sometimes unlock his lips to speak a word.
And so, as Cameron began to respond to the influence of a desert less
lonely than habitual, he began to take keener note of his comrade, and
found him different from any other he had ever encountered in the
wilderness. This man never grumbled at the heat, the glare, the driving
sand, the sour water, the scant fare. During the daylight hours he was
seldom idle. At night he sat dreaming before the fire or paced to and fro
in the gloom. He slept but little, and that long after Cameron had had
his own rest. He was tireless, patient, brooding.
Cameron's awakened interest brought home to him the realization that
for years he had shunned companionship. In those years only three men
had wandered into the desert with him, and these had left their bones to
bleach in the shifting sands. Cameron had not cared to know their

secrets. But the more he studied this latest comrade the more he began
to