The trail, which gradually ascended as they drew north, grew rougher and rougher.  During the latter part of the day sand gave way to rock, and the desert appeared full of pot holes which Mack claimed led to subterranean rivers.

They left these behind near sunset, and came upon a huge, rude, cave-like opening in a mesa side.  A tiny pool at the back and the evidence of many camp fires in the front announced that this was one of the trail’s established oases.  There was no possible grazing for the animals, so they were watered, staked, and fed oats from the packs.

“Well, Mr. Just Smith,” said Curly, after the supper had been dispatched and cleared up and the trio were established around the fire, pipes glowing, “well, Mr. Just Smith, are you getting rested?” He grinned as he spoke, but Mack watched their guest soberly.  Enoch’s great head seemed to fascinate him.

“I’m feeling better, thanks.  And I’m trying hard to behave.”

“You’re doing very well,” returned Curly.  “I can’t recommend you yet as a horse wrangler, but if I permit you to bring Mamie in every morning, perhaps you’ll sabez better.”

“This is sure one devil of a country,” said Mack.  “The Spanish called it the death trail.  Wow!  What it must have been before they opened up these springs!  Even the Indians couldn’t live here.”

“I’d like to show it to old Parsons,” said Curly.  “He claims there ain’t a spot in Arizona that couldn’t grow crops if you could get water to it.  He’s a fine old liar!  Why, this country don’t even grow cactus!  I’d like to hobble him out here for a week.”

“Those Survey fellows were up here a few years back trying to fix it to get water out of those pot holes,” said Mack.

“Nuts!  Sounds like a government bunch!” grunted Curly.

“What came of it?” asked Enoch.

“It ended in a funny kind of a row,” replied Mack.  “Some folks think there’s oil up here, and there was a bunch here drilling for wells, when the government men came along.  They got interested in the oil idea, and they began to study the country and drill for oil too.  And that made these other chaps mad.  This was government land, of course, but they didn’t want the government to get interested in developing oil wells.  Government oil would be too cheap.  So they got some Mexicans to start a fight with these Survey lads.  But the Survey boys turned out to be well armed and good fighters and, by Jove, they drove the whole bunch of oil prospectors out of here.  Everybody got excited, and then it turned out there was no oil here anyhow.  That was Fowler’s bunch, by the way, that got run out.  Nobody ever thought he’d be Secretary of State!”

“But Fowler is not an Arizona man!” exclaimed Enoch.

“No,” said Curly, “but he came out here for his health for a few years when he was just out of college.  He and my oldest brother were law pardners in Phoenix.  I always thought he was crooked.  All lawyers are.”