Wal, they say thar's two men in the bottom of it, turned to stone. Mebbe they fell off'n the cliff. Mebbe someone killed 'em an' pitched 'em in. No way to cover up a murder, you'll say. I'll agree with that, but they may have been left as a warnin'. Like crows in a cornfield. But, as I was sayin', the Indians didn't bother me none. 'Course I might hev' bin lucky an' they didn't see me."
Stone's imagination was kindled by the thought of the two men changed to stone before their dead bodies could decompose, lying in the pool by the trail, a grim "keep-off" sign. He wondered how long they had been there. Lyman's talk about his ancient partners came back to him; "Dave" and "Lem" had gone in to try and relocate and had never come back. Lyman had "figgered the 'Paches got 'em long ago." Dave had had two men with him. Lem had taken in five or six. Were these silent monuments Dave and one of his two, or Lem and a follower? It seemed plausible that it might be one of the two. Few white men came this way. Nothing far east of the green valley of Verde River was considered worth looking into save by foolhardy prospectors. The name of the creek they were following showed that. Tonto Creek—Fool Creek!
"Are the two men whites or Indians?" he asked Harvey.
"You kin search me. Mebbe it's all a fake. Desert's full of yarns. I don't believe all of 'em an' I don't figger to say any of 'em ain't true. Anything might happen out here. That lookout's
