But how wonderfully had the prophecy of Mother Trigedgo been justified by the course of events! Not a year before he had come over the Globe trail in pursuit of Slogger Meacham, and had discovered the Place of Death. It rose before him now, a solid black wall, and within its shadow lay the mine of the prophecy, the precious Silver Treasure. He had chosen the silver treasure, and the yellow chalcopyrites had added its wealth of copper. And now he but awaited the end of his long ordeal and the reward of his courage and constancy. Both the silver and gold treasures were destined to be his; and Drusilla--but there he paused. Old Bunk had avoided him, Drusilla had not written; yet he had been careful not to reveal his affection. Not once had he asked for her, only once had he written; yet perhaps that one letter had defeated him. He had acknowledged his love, humbly admitted his faults, and begged her to try to forgive him. Even that might have cost him her love. The spring came on warmer, all the palo verde trees burst out in masses of brilliant yellow, the mezquites hung out tassels of golden fuzz and the giant cactus donned its crown of orange blossoms. Even the iron-woods flaunted bloom and the barren, sandy washes turned green with six-weeks grass. It was a time when rabbits gamboled, when mockingbirds sang by moonlight and all the world turned young. Denver chafed at his confinement, one of his Mexicans broke his parole, the hobo miners went swinging past; and just as the last of his courage was waning Bunker Hill came riding down the road. He was on his big bay, yet not out after cattle--he was coming straight towards him. Denver caught his breath, and waited. CHAPTER XXVIII PAROLE "Mornin', Denver," said Bunker Hill, "here's a letter that come for you--I forgot to send it down." He fumbled in his pocket and Denver's heart stood still, but it was only his check from the smelter. He slipped it into his shirt without even glancing at the big total and looked up at Bunker expectantly. "Well?" he prompted and Old Bunk twisted in the saddle before he began to talk. "How much did you get for your shipment?" he inquired but Denver shrugged impatiently. "What do I give a damn?" he demanded. "What's up? What you got on your mind?" "Big stuff," replied Bunker, "but I want you to listen to me--they's no use running off at the head." "Who's running off at the head? Go on and shoot your wad. Is it something about my mine?" "Yes--and mine," answered Bunker. "I don't know whether you know it, but your property apexes the Lost Burro. And another thing, silver has gone up. But Pinal is just as dead as it was a year ago. The whole camp is waiting on you." "Well, what do you want me to do? Get a parole and give Murray my mine?"