"Working is right. Prospecting. Tired of farming--need a change. Say, I want you fellows to witness some location notices for me. Ride over on the next ridge and I can point out where the claims lay so you can swear to 'em--or ride over with me if you got time. I was just doing a little forgery when I saw your dust, for I wasn't expectin' to see a man up this way--not ever. I do reckon this is the lonesomest place in the world." "Adam, meet my friend," said Jody. "Mr. Forbes, Mr. Hales. Now, Adam, no need for us to go over to your layout, is there? We can see your silly monuments. That's enough. No particular odds anyway, is it? I reckon half the notices on record have ghost signatures to 'em. Just as good as any. Nobody'll ever know the difference." "Sure, that's all right--but seein' you happened along so slick, I thought I'd get your John Hancocks. Sign on the dotted line, please--where I rubbed out my forgeries." "Any good, your mines?" asked Jody as they signed. "Might be--will be, likely enough. Just struck pay dirt to-day. Lots of room if you want to try a whirl--all round my claims, any direction except down." "Not to-day, I guess. Say, Forbes--you ain't seen any strangers this way, have you? Mexicans, mebbe?" "Not any. But I just come up from the river. Hills might be full of people, for all I know. Water all round, after these rains." "Look, now," said Jody. "We're doin' a little man hunt--and if you're hangin' round here prospectin', you may be able to give us a straight tip. Keep your eye peeled. There'll be a piece of money in it for you if you can help us out." "Give it a name. But see here, Caney--this isn't Dona Ana County, you know. You're over the line." "I'm not doing this official," said Caney. "Neither is Hales, here, though he is a deputy in Socorro County. We're private cits in this man's county--playin' a hunch. Here's the lay: There's been a heap of stealing saddles for a business lately--saddles and other truck, but saddles, wholesale, most particular. Got so it wasn't safe for a man to leave a saddle on a horse at night, down round Las Cruces." "They got Bill McCall's saddle in Mesilla three months ago," broke in Jody, laughing. "So Bill, he went and broke a bronc backward. Yes, sir! Broke him to be saddled and mounted from the wrong side. Only left-handed horse in the world, I reckon. Then Bill slips off down to Mesilla, ties his horse in front of Isham Holt's house about dark, and filters inside to jolly Miss Valeria. Pretty soon Bill heard a tur'ble row outside, and when he went out he found a Mex boy rollin' round in the street and a-holdin' both hands to his belly. Claimed he had the cramps, he did--but that's why we're rather looking for Mexicans."