About the middle of the afternoon they said good-bye to all their Zuni friends and rode away. The old medicine man was among the crowd that saw them off; he even condescended to shake hands with each of the lads. Doubtless it had dawned upon the mind of the conjurer that he and the Zuni tribe in general were under heavy obligations to these boys for what they had done. Had it not been for them that fraud of a showman might have succeeded in coaxing the chief to start away, with most of the people, tagging after him, to leave them stranded and helpless in some faraway station; while meanwhile he returned to try and find the secret treasure which report said the Witch Doctor knew of in the heart of the Sacred Mountain. “I want to tell you, boys,” remarked Billie, after they had gone far enough on the other trail that would avoid crossing the main desert to no longer see any sign of the wonderful home of the cliff dwellers; “I’m not sorry to get away from that place. Too many creeping things to suit me. I don’t much mind standing up and waiting to receive the charge of a mad bull elk; or calmly puncturing the tough old hide of a whopper of a grizzly bear; but excuse me from all sorts of scaly things. No alligators, lizards or Gila Monsters need apply for a job to Broncho Billie. Set that down with a red stone to mark it, will you?” After going as far as they thought fit the three boys turned aside from the main trail, and finding a good place where camp could be made, as well as water secured for themselves and ponies, they settled down. Supper came next in order, with Billie plying his old trade, and apparently doing about all there was to accomplish, yet actually performing very little through lack of system. Night had now closed in about them, but they did not mean to be in any undue haste about attempting to carry out the little scheme they had on foot. In fact, both Adrian and Donald were somewhat ashamed of this spirit of curiosity that was coaxing them back, to pry into the secret of the medicine man. They assured each other many times that they did not mean him any harm in the least, and only entered into the game on account of a natural feeling, such as all boys possess to a greater or less extent—a desire to know “what makes the wheels go around.” They had heard so much concerning this wonderful voice in the heart of the mountain that they just felt that it would be a shame for them to go away without at least making one good effort to learn what it all meant; and how, when a man with a high-pitched, screechy voice like that of the Witch Doctor went alone into the rocky uplift, there came pealing out the deep tones of a strange voice, thrilling those who heard, under the belief that it was Manitou who spoke.