It was long since the shiny sorrel had been given his head, and he needed neither whip not spurs--but a mile or two down the arroyo Bud suddenly reined him in and looked behind. Then he turned abruptly up the hillside and jumped him out on a point, looked again, and rode slowly back up the trail. Aragon and the _rural_ were not in sight--the question was, were they following? For a short distance he rode warily, not to be surprised in his suspicion; then, as he found tracks turning back, he gave head to his horse and galloped swiftly to camp. The horses of the men he sought stood at the edge of the mine-dump and, throwing his bridle rein down beside them, Bud leaped off and ran up the cut. Then he stopped short and reached for his six-shooter. The two men were up at the end, down on their knees, and digging like dogs after a rabbit. So eager were they in their search, so confident in their fancied security, that they never looked up from their work, and the tramp of Hooker's boots was drowned by their grubbing until he stood above them. There he paused, his pistol in hand, and waited grimly for developments. "Ha!" cried Aragon, grabbing at a piece of quartz that came up. "_Aqui lo tengo!_" He drew a second piece from his pocket and placed them together. "It is the same!" he said. Still half-buried in the excavation, he turned suddenly, as a shadow crossed him, to get the light, and his jaw dropped at the sight of Bud. "I'll trouble you for that rock," observed Bud, holding out his hand, and as the _rural_ jumped, Aragon handed over the ore. There was a moment's silence as Bud stood over them--then he stepped back and motioned them out with his gun. Down the jagged cut they hurried, awed into a guilty silence by his anger, and when he let them mount without a word the _rural_ looked back, surprised. Even then Bud said nothing, but the swing of the Texan's gun spoke for him, and they rode quickly out of sight. "You dad-burned greasers!" growled Bud, returning his pistol with a jab to its holster. Then he looked at the ore. There were two pieces, one fresh-dug and the other worn, and as he gazed at them the worn piece seemed strangely familiar. Aragon had been comparing them--but where had he got the worn piece? Once more Bud looked it over, and then the rock fell from his hand. It was the first piece they had found--the piece that belonged to Phil! XV When the solid earth quakes, though it move but a thousandth of an inch beneath our feet, the human brain reels and we become dizzy, sick, and afraid. So, too, at the thought that some trusted friend has played us false, the mind turns back upon itself and we doubt the stability of everything--for a moment. Then, as we find all the trees straight up, the world intact, and the hills in their proper places, we cast the treacherous doubts aside and listen to the voice of reason.