“You no find ze gold. Guadalupe wash many hours to get, perhaps, just one nugget. But there is heaps and heaps, if ze miners came with spades and cradles.” “Great guns, there must be the reef, too, from which the nuggets have come!” exclaimed Dick, rising erect and dropping the handful of pebbles. “Now, we must go back,” said Pierre, “for zis evening you are to be allowed to come for a ride with me down ze mountains.” “You don’t say?” Dick cried, surprised and delighted. “Yes; Don manuel he send word today that he give permission. But you must wear ze bandage round your eyes, and you must promise to return when I give ze word.” “Don’t for one moment think, old fellow, that I would leave my drawings. But where are we going tonight?” “To La Siesta,” replied Pierre. “Hurrah!” shouted Dick. “Hurry up, Pierre! I’m mighty glad you got me those ties and things from Los Angeles. You say you can give me a hair-cut?” “Ze old-time bandit learned to trim ze hair of his friends as well as ze pocket-books of his enemies,” was the laughing answer. CHAPTER XXIII—The Unexpected Visitor MOST of the cattle had been driven off the land. The vaqueros had dispersed to the four points of the compass. Chester Munson had vacated his room in Dick Willoughby’s old home, and had taken up his residence and library duties at Mr. Robles’ mansion on the hill. Sing Ling had folded his tent like the Arab and silently stolen away in the same direction. A small army of surveyors had appeared on the scene and were quartered in the rancho buildings. The only one of the old-timers who still lingered on was Ben Thurston, more gloomy and morose than ever, seldom stirring out of doors now, but conducting all his business by telephone or through the agency of the sleuth, Leach Sharkey, his only companion. Jack Rover had pitched his camp temporarily at the store. Buck Ashley had assigned him Pierre’s cot, but the cowboy had fixed it under a wide-spreading sycamore, preferring to sleep in the open rather than share the grocery-perfumed atmosphere of the store building. Tom Baker was around most of the time. The three men clung together with a vague sense that they had a common interest in the vast treasure which had so far eluded them, but which might any day come again within reach of their eager claws. It afforded an endless theme of conversation, varied by talk about the passing of the rancho and all the train of changes which were bound to follow the close settlement of the valley. One morning Jack Rover found Buck at the door of the store, with a pair of antiquated-looking field glasses at his eyes. “Where did you get the goggles, Buck?” asked Jack.