'Aw,' I said, 'them fellers is jest lookin' for wild men.'
'Wild men!' he snorted. 'They don't have to go no further'n Chawed Ear on payday night to find more wild men than they could handle. I ain't swallerin' no sech tripe. Gold is what they're after, I tell you. I seen Glanton talkin' to that Mex in Perdition the day I bought that map from him. I believe they either got wind of that mine, or know I got that map, or both.'
'What you goin' to do?' I ast him.
'Head for Wildcat Canyon by another trail,' he said.
So we done so and arriv there after night, him not willing to stop till we got there. It was deep, with big high cliffs cut with ravines and gulches here and there, and very wild in appearance. We didn't descend into the canyon that night, but camped on a plateau above it. Uncle Jacob 'lowed we'd begin exploring next morning. He said they was lots of caves in the canyon, and he'd been in all of 'em. He said he hadn't never found nothing except b'ars and painters and rattlesnakes, but he believed one of them caves went on through into another hidden canyon, and that was where the gold was at.
Next morning I was awoke by Uncle Jacob shaking me, and his whiskers was curling with rage.
'What's the matter?' I demanded, setting up and pulling my guns.
'They're here!' he squalled. 'Dawgone it, I suspected 'em all the time! Git up, you big lunk! Don't set there gawpin' with a gun in each hand like a idjit! They're here, I tell you!'
'Who's here?' I ast.
'That dern tenderfoot and his cussed Texas gunfighter,' snarled Uncle Jacob. 'I was up jest at daylight, and purty soon I seen a wisp of smoke curlin' up from behind a big rock t'other side of the flat. I snuck over there, and there was Glanton fryin' bacon, and Van Brock was pertendin' to be lookin' at some flowers with a magnifyin' glass--the blame fake. He ain't no perfessor. I bet he's a derned crook. They're follerin' us. They aim to murder us and take my map.'
'Aw, Glanton wouldn't do that,' I said, and Uncle Jacob said: 'You shet up! A man will do anything whar gold's consarned. Dang it all, git up and do somethin'! Air you goin' to set there, you big lummox, and let us git murdered in our sleep?'
That's the trouble of being the biggest man in yore clan; the rest of the family always dumps all the onpleasant jobs onto yore shoulders. I pulled on my boots and headed acrost the flat with Uncle Jacob's war-songs ringing in my ears, and I didn't notice whether he was bringing up the rear with his Winchester or not.
They was a scattering of trees on the flat, and about halfway acrost a figger emerged from amongst it and headed my direction with fire in his eye. It was Glanton.
'So, you big mountain grizzly,' he greeted me rambunctiously, 'you was goin' to Antelope Peak, hey? Kinda got off the road, didn't you? Oh, we're on to you, we air!'
'What you mean?' I demanded. He was acting like he was the one which ought a feel righteously indignant instead of me.
'You know what I mean!' he says, frothing slightly at the mouth. 'I didn't believe it when Van Brock first said he suspicioned you, even though you hombres did act funny yesterday when he met you on the trail. But this momin' when I glimpsed yore fool Uncle Jacob spyin' on our camp, and then seen him sneakin' off through the bresh, I knowed Van Brock was right. Yo're after what we're after, and you-all resorts to dirty, onderhanded tactics. Does you deny yo're after the same thing we air?'
'Naw, I don't,' I said. 'Uncle Jacob's got more right to it than you-all has. And when you says we uses onderhanded tricks, yo're a liar.'
'That settles it!' gnashed he. 'Go for yore gun!'
'I don't want to perforate you,' I growled.
'I ain't hankerin' to conclude yore mortal career,' he admitted. 'But Haunted Mountain ain't big enough, for both of us. Take off yore guns, and I'll maul the livin' daylights out you, big as you be.'
I unbuckled my gun-belt, and hung it on a limb, and he laid off his'n, and hit me in the stummick and on the ear and in the nose, and then he busted me in the jaw and knocked out a tooth. This made me mad, so I taken him by the neck and throwed him agen the ground so hard it jolted all the wind outa him. I then sot on him and started banging his head agen a convenient boulder, and his cussing was terrible to hear.
'If you-all had acted like white men,' I gritted, 'we'd of give you a share in that there mine.'
'What the hell air you talkin' about?' he gurgled, trying to haul his bowie out of his boot which I had my knee on.
'The Lost Haunted Mine, what you think?' I snarled, getting a fresh grip on his ears.
'Hold on!' he protested. 'You mean you-all air jest lookin' for gold? Is that on the level?'
I was so astonished I quit hammering his skull agen the rock.
'Why, what else?' I demanded. 'Ain't you-all follerin' us to steal Uncle jacob's map which shows where at the mine is hid?'
'Git offa me!' he snorted disgustfully, taking advantage of my surprise to push me off. 'Hell!' says he, starting to knock the dust offa his britches. 'I might of knowed that tenderfoot was wool-gatherin'. After we seen you-all yesterday, and he heard you mention Wildcat Canyon, he told me he believed you was follerin' us. He said that yarn about prospectin' was jest a blind. He said he believed you was workin' for a rival scientific society to git ahead of us and capture that there wild man yoreselves.'
'What?' I said. 'You mean that wild man yarn is straight goods?'
'Far as we're consarned,' said Bill. 'Prospectors is been tellin' some onusual stories about Wildcat Canyon. Well, I laughed at him at first, but he kept on usin' so many .45 calibre words that he got me to believin' it might be so. 'Cause, after all, here was me guidin' a tenderfoot on the trail of a wild man, and they warn't no reason to think that you and Jacob Grimes was any more sensible than me.
'Then, this mornin' when I seen Jacob peekin' at me from the bresh, I decided Van Brock must be right. You-all hadn't never went to Antelope Peak. The more I thought it over, the more sartain I was that you was follerin' us to steal our wild man, so I started over to have a show-down.'
'Well,' I said, 'we've reched a understandin'. You don't want our mine, and we sure don't want yore wild man. They's plenty of them amongst my relatives on Bear Creek. Le's git Van Brock and lug him over to our camp and explain things to him and my weak-minded uncle.'
'All right,' said Glanton, buckling on his guns. 'Hey, what's that?'
From down in the canyon come a yell: 'Help! Aid! Assistance!'
'It's Van Brock!' yelped Glanton. 'He's wandered down into the canyon by hisself! Come on!'
Right nigh their camp they was a ravine leading down to the floor of the canyon. We pelted down that at full speed and emerged nigh the wall of the cliffs. They was the black mouth of a cave showing nearby, in a kind of cleft, and jest outside this cleft Van Brock was staggering around, yowling like a hound-dawg with his tail caught in the door.
His cork helmet was laying on the ground all bashed outa shape, and his specs was lying nigh it. He had a knot on his head as big as a turnip and he was doing a kind of ghost-dance or something all over the place.
He couldn't see very good without his specs, 'cause when he sighted us he give a shriek and started legging it up the canyon, seeming to think we was more enemies. Not wanting to indulge in no sprinting in that heat, Bill shot a heel offa his boot, and that brung him down squalling blue murder.
'Help!' he shrieked. 'Mr. Glanton! Help! I am being attacked! Help!'
'Aw, shet up,' snorted Bill. 'I'm Glanton. Yo're all right. Give him his specs, Breck. Now, what's the matter?'
He put 'em on, gasping for breath, and staggered up, wild-eyed, and p'inted at the cave, and hollered: 'The wild man! I saw him, as I descended into the canyon on a private exploring expedition! A giant with a panther's skin about his waist, and a club in his hand. When I sought to apprehend him he dealt me a murderous blow with the bludgeon and fled into that cavern. He should be arrested!'
I looked into the cave. It was too dark to see anything except for a hoot-owl.
'He must of saw somethin', Breck,' said Glanton, hitching his gun-harness. 'Somethin' shore cracked him on the conk. I've been hearin' some queer tales about this canyon, myself. Maybe I better sling some lead in there--'
'No, no, no!' broke in Van Brock. 'We must capture him alive!'
'What's goin' on here?' said a voice, and we turned to see Uncle Jacob approaching with his Winchester in
