Gary shook his head. "That's been bothering me too. I can identify Cholla Canyon and Split Rock Canyon, and the canyon where The Needle is, as well as the canyon where we found the arrastres, but I can't link any canyon in the mountains with that one he has marked."
"Great stuff," said Tuck in disgust. "Then just what good is this derrotero?"
"All I know is that he didn't make it to amuse himself. If he marked that canyon on the derrotero you can bet your Honda against a dime that it was there when he marked it. Jim Kermit's remark that there had been a great many changes in the mountains in the past hundred years sticks in my mind. The day I was working for him I saw up Cholla Canyon to the place where there must have been a landslide years ago. I went the other way and found nothing. I think the place to go is past that landslide."
"Behind The Needle?"
"Yes. A long ways behind The Needle…"
Tuck glanced at the clock. "It's getting late. If we're going to do a predawn patrol we'd better get some sleep."
They got their gear ready before they went to bed. Pete Cole's shotgun had been returned and Tuck was to carry it; Gary had his Winchester. "You got any silver bullets, amigo?" asked Tuck.
"No, why?"
"Well, I heard lead bullets ain't much good against ghosts but they might work if you rub them with garlic."
"I ought'a rub your pointed little head with garlic!"
"Where do you figure on hiding the derrotero?" Gary grinned. "Atop the windmill platform," he said. "No one would think of looking for it there."
"No one but an eagle, that is."
It was pitch dark outside. Gary crossed swiftly to the windmill and quietly scaled the ladder. He secreted the derrotero beneath a loose board. He did not return to the ground immediately. He felt as though he was atop the mast of a sailing ship far out on the dark sea. The Espectros were dark and hulking against the night sky; the lights of The Wells could be seen in the clear air. There was a breathless feeling within Gary. Tomorrow might reveal the long-lost secret of the treasure of the Espectros.
A cold dawn wind swept along the lower reaches of Cholla Canyon as Gary led the way through the tangled brush to where he had found the first symbol. It was still very dark in the big canyon, and even Lobo was subdued, trailing closely at Gary's heels, with Tuck not far behind. Several times during the night the big dog had barked, awakening the boys, but nothing had happened. They had not shown a light at the house when they had arisen, breakfasted, and left the premises in the thick darkness of the hour before dawn.
It was hard going until the first faint light of the false dawn began to show in the sky. By that time the boys had reached the place where the branch canyon split off to the right hand. Gary looked up the dark slopes toward the unseen cave. It was as quiet as the grave. He shuddered at the simile.
Gary swiftly crossed the mouth of the branch canyon and began to fight his way through the vicious tangle that almost filled the narrow upper end of Cholla Canyon. It was quite obvious that there had been a vast slide of earth and rocks in years past. It was also obvious that the rushing waters of many flash floods had gouged the narrow passage to one side of the slide. The dawn light was filtering down into the canyon. High above them were masses of dry brush wedged into crevices; here and there bleached pieces of driftwood hung like bones of the long dead. They were the markers indicating the height of the floods that poured through that canyon. It wasn't a pleasant sight. The Espectros seemed to breed vicious storms in the late summer and early fall, and to be caught in a canyon at such a time was akin to a death sentence.
Beyond the slide it was possible to see no more than a few hundred yards at a time because of the devious and tortured way of the deep canyon. Despite the coolness of the early morning the boys were running with sweat as they forced their way through clinging catclaw and savage jumping cholla that seemed to snap at them in anger. They rounded a right-hand bend. Gary stopped and eyed a huge overhanging cliff, shaped like the cup of a gigantic clamshell. "The derrotero shows water in here, Tuck," he said over his shoulder.
Tuck wiped the sweat from his face. "What's that up there?" He pointed to the cliff face. Clearly marked was a Spanish gourd, the unmistakable symbol for water in the vicinity.
It was Lobo who found the spring. It welled up from beneath a rock face to form a shallow pool in a hueco or rock hollow. The three of them drank the cold, sweet water. Tuck wiped his mouth and reached for his haversack. "Time for lunch?"
"It's hardly nine o'clock," said Gary. "I'll go ahead and see what's up there."
"Watch yourself, amigo."
"I wasn't thinking of getting careless."
Gary was a good five hundred yards east of the spring when he found the narrow slit that marked a branch canyon trending off to the right, deep in shadow, cold, and forbidding. He turned to look up the main canyon and saw a chiseled outline on a great slab of fallen rock. It was the outline of a tortoise. There was no way of telling to which of the two canyons it had originally pointed.
Tuck floundered through the brush and eyed the rock. "Got a little lonely back there," he said. "What's that?"
"The tortoise symbol has various meanings. Sometimes the head points toward treasure, or buried possessions nearby."
"Go on."
Gary looked at his friend. "It can also mean death, defeat, or destruction…"
"But that was years ago, wasn't it?" asked Tuck in a very small voice.
"It has to be one way or the other." Gary took a coin from his pocket and flipped it high into the air. "Heads to the left. Tails to the right." He caught it deftly. "Tails," he said quietly.
Tuck eyed the narrow, uninviting passageway. "Best out of three?" he suggested weakly.
Gary shook his head. There was really no choice. If they went up the main canyon and could not find any further symbols they would have to explore the narrower canyon anyway. He led the way. Their footsteps echoed hollowly as though they had entered a vast and empty vault carved into the very heart of the Espectros. Neither of them spoke. Silence seemed to be the ground rule in that dark and echoing place. Silence, and a constant feeling of something watching and waiting for anyone fool enough to look for the Lost Espectro.
The heat of the midmorning sun had begun to penetrate into the canyons by the time the two explorers came to a widening of the canyon they were in. "Just where are we?" asked Tuck.
"We're heading southerly. I think we're roughly parallel to The Needle Canyon, but I haven't any idea how far we are from it."
"You think this canyon comes out on the south side of the Espectros?"
"If it doesn't we'll either have to backtrack or stay in here tonight."
So far they had seen no guiding symbols. That is, until Tuck fell over a rock. Gary gave him a hand to help him to his feet, and as he did so he saw something through a screen of brush. It was another gourd symbol pointing back to the way they had come. That wasn't much help, but at least it indicated that the Mexican miners had been in there.
Tuck picked a cactus needle from his hand and looked ahead. He silently pointed at something. On an overhanging rock had been chiseled a deep Roman cross. "That's another marking with a number of meanings," said Gary. "It might mean there are church treasures buried in here, which isn't likely. It also means a Christian has passed this way. If it was lying on its side instead of being upright, then the long part of the cross would point to the treasure trail."
"As far as we're concerned then, that marking doesn't mean much."