Mesa. Somewhere, close to that line, near the northwestern boundary of the reservation, among the maze of tall cliffs and cañons, lay their objective. The dry placer once drained into the eastern fork of Tonto Creek by its headwaters at the foot of Promontory Butte. Show him these headwaters, declared Healy, and he would have no difficulty in turning over the quest to Lefty at a point specifically described to him by the dying prospector. What these exact specifications were Healy refused to divulge, despite the partnership, until the last moment.
It all looked simple enough on the map. But casual talks on the train with various "natives" confirmed the wisdom of the suggestion thrown out to Stone by his attorney friend in Los Angeles that they take a desert-salted man along with them. Healy at first demurred.
"What's the use of letting in a fourth man?" he asked. "If we find the stuff you can't hide it from him. More 'n that, he's likely to blab about it and start a rush. That's the last thing we want. We've got to keep this thing on the q.t."
"We don't have to mention gold at all to the man," said Stone. "My idea is to let it be generally known that we are exploring among the cave-dwellings. Those cliffs are full of them."
"What cliffs?"
"Along the Mogollon Mesa. Almost any cliff in Arizona, for that matter. I know something about the way they lived, enough to throw a bluff. We
