“If I help yer I’ve got ter be protected frum Bill Lacy.  He’d kill me as quick as he’d look at me.  Then I’d want yer ter tell the judge how it all happened.  If yer got the cards stacked, an’ I reckon yer have, I ain’t big enough fool to try an’ play no hand against ’em.  But I want ter know what’s goin’ ter happen ter me.  You don’t need ter promise nuthin’; only say yer’ll give me a show.  I know ye’re square, Dan Brennan, an’ whatever yer say goes.”

The marshal stuck out his hand.

“That’s the gospel truth, Matt,” he said gravely, “an’ I’m with yer till the cows come home.  What is it you know?”

“Well,” with a quick breath as he took the plunge, “it’s like this, marshal; there is just one place out yonder,” and he waved his hand to indicate the direction, “on the east rim o’ the valley, where yer might get down.  Ye’d have ter hang on, tooth an’ toe-nail; but both of yer are mountain men, an’ I reckon yer could make the trip if yer took it careful an’ slow like.  Leastwise that’s the one chance, an’ I don’t believe thar’s another white critter who even knows thar is such a trail.”

“Have you ever been down?”

“Wunst, an’ that was enough fer me,” he confessed, drawling his words.  “Yer see it was this a-way.  One time I was out there in that hell hole plum’ alone fer a whole week, just a waitin’ fer Mendez ter show up so I could ride into Haskell and tell Lacy he’d come.  It was so damn lonesome I explored every nook an’ cranny between them rocks, an’ one day, lyin’ out in front o’ ther bunk-house, I happened to trace this ol’ trail.  I got a notion to give it a trial, an’ I did that same afternoon.  I got down all right, but it was no place fer a lady, believe me, an’ I reckon no white man ever made it afore.”

“It had been used once?”

“There was some signs made me think so; Injuns, I reckon, an’ a long while ago.”

Westcott asked:  “How can we get there safely?  Can you guide us?”

Moore swept his eyes over the dull range of sand, expectorated thoughtfully, and rammed his hands deep into his trouser-pockets.  He was slow about answering, but the two men waited motionless.

“If it was me,” he said finally.  “I’d take it on foot.  It’ll be a jaunt ov near on to three miles, unless yer want ter risk bein’ seen by them Mexes on the main trail.  You couldn’t go straight, but would have ter circle out an’ travel mostly behind that ridge o’ sand thar to the left.  Goin’ that a-way nobody’s likely ter get sight o’ yer on foot.  You couldn’t take no hoss, though.  Here’d be my plan; lead this yere outfit o’ mine an’ your ponies back inter them sand dunes whar nobody ever goes.  They’re tired ‘nough ter stand, an’ there ain’t anything fer ’em to graze on.  Then we kin hoof it over ter the place I’m tellin’ yer about, an’ yer kin sorter size it up fer yerselves.  That’s fair, ain’t it?”