Skeleton Lode by Ralph Compton

going. In the dark, a man could ride into a low-hangin’ limb and lose an eye. So could a horse.”
     
    “We’ll need water,” said Arlo, “and before dark, Paiute will lead us to it. Right now, he’s makin’ it real hard on that bunch that’s trailin’ us. They’re already gettin’ dry, but they don’t dare look for water, or they risk losin’ our trail.”
     
    Time after time in this wretched terrain they had crossed canyons where there might have been water, but Paiute did not stop. He paused only occasionally to rest the mule.
     
    “You predicted water by sundown,” said Dallas, “but I can do better than that. I can tell you where that water’s goin’ to be. Friend Arlo, just as sure as God created the heavens and the earth, we’re on our way back to good old Saguaro Lake. That crazy Indian is leadin’ us in a fifty-mile circle.”
     
    At first Arlo laughed, but as they rode on, the truth of it became more and more obvious. The going became easier and the thickets began to thin out, but only because they were nearing the more gentle slopes that marked the end of the Superstitions to the north. Less than an hour before sundown, a westering sun shone on the sparkling waters of Saguaro Lake, half a dozen miles ahead. It was almost within walking distance of old Hoss Logan’s cabin, which they had left at daybreak.
     
    “Well, by God!” exclaimed Arlo. “I can’t believe it.”
     
    “You?” Dallas whooped. “What about that bunch of pilgrims behind us?”
     
    Their thirsty horses broke into a gallop, hot on the heels of Paiute’s mule. The weary gold seekers—far behind—reined in and stared in disbelief. Gary Davis galloped his horse ahead until he caught up with Yavapai and Sanchez.
     
    “Damn it,” Davis shouted, “they’ve put us through hell all day, and we’re back where we started! Between the two of you, didn’t you have brains enough to realize we’ve been traveling in circles?”
     
    “You pay us to follow these hombres, Señor,” said Yavapai, shrugging his shoulders, “and we follow them.
Por Dios
, night comes, and there is much water. One should not be ungrateful, Señor.”
     
    Before Davis could respond, his horse joined the others in a mad dash toward the distant lake. To the dismay of the pursuers, Arlo and Dallas didn’t unsaddle their mounts or unload their pack mule. Once their horses and mule had watered, and Paiute had watered his mule, the trio rode out, headed for Hoss Logan’s cabin.
     
    “Paiute’s got the right idea,” Arlo laughed. “Whyshould we sleep on the ground, when we’re this close to the cabin and its bunks?”
     
    At the cabin, they unloaded the pack mule and unsaddled their horses.
     
    Dallas laughed. “I reckon they all hate our guts. This was one hell of a wild goose chase, but it was worth it.”
     
    “Damn right it was,” said Arlo, “and I’m sorry I ever called Paiute useless. He’s worth every bit of the fortune in grub it takes to feed him.”
     
    “If I wasn’t so god-awful tired,” Dallas said, “I’d sneak back after dark and listen in on that bunch at the lake. I’d give a lot to know what they’re sayin’ about us.”
     
    The hangers-on who had camped at Saguaro Lake, including the Davis outfit, were beyond exhaustion. But there was talk, and it was venomous.
     
    “My God,” said Rust bitterly, “that was a brilliant plan, following those damn cowboys all day and ending up where we started.”
     
    “Yeah,” Bollinger agreed, “and the best part of it is, the bastards may pull the same stunt again tomorrow, and the day after that.”
     
    “Yes, Gary,” said Paulette in a poisonous tone, “tell us what you have planned for tomorrow. When are these damn Mexicans going to start earning their pay?”
     
    “We earn our pay,” Sanchez said angrily. “He tell us to follow these hombres, and we follow. If you please, Señor,” he said, turning to Davis, “our earnings for this