"That's so," Nick replied, "but that's all straight now, and they are past doin' any more harm, and it ain't a square deal to let a fellow be eat up by coyotes." Tom looked down into the dead, staring eyes and soberly replied: "I guess you're right, Nick, and I sure reckon Emerson would say we ought to do it." They carried both bodies to the bottom of the canyon and up the bloody trail until they came to a steep-sided, narrow chasm which yawned into the wider gulch. There they put their burdens down, side by side, and decently straightened the limbs, folded the hands, and closed the eyes of the two dead men. "Now," said Nick, "we'll pile rocks across the mouth of the gulch, and then they'll be safe enough, for no coyote is going to jump down from the top of these walls." Tom made no answer. He was standing with his hands in his pockets looking at the two bloody, mangled corpses. "Nick, don't you-all think we'd better say something over these fellows, too? It ain't the square deal to put 'em away without a word, even if they were the worst scrubs in creation. You-all better say something, Nick, like you did before." Tom took off his hat, without even a glance at his companion, and bent his head. Ellhorn also doffed his sombrero and bent forward in reverent attitude, ready to begin. "Good Lord," he said, and then he stopped and hesitated so long that Tuttle looked up to see what was the matter. "Go on, Nick," he urged in a low tone. "Good Lord, Ye'd better do as Ye think best about lettin' 'em fry in their own fat--so long. They were scrubs, that's straight, but they're dead now, and can't do any more harm. Good Lord, we hope--Ye'll see Your way to have mercy on their souls. Amen." They began piling rocks across the mouth of the narrow chasm, and worked for some moments in silence. Nick glanced inquiringly at Tom several times, and finally he spoke: "Say, Tommy, that was all right, I guess, wasn't it?" "Nick, I sure reckon Emerson would say it was." And Ellhorn knew that his companion could give no stronger assent. They built a wall high enough to keep the coyotes away from the two bodies, and then followed the trail upon the canyon wall and across the mountain side to the spring. There they found Bill Frank's camping outfit and the few things that Jim and Haney had transferred from the canyon below. They found, also, the pan and the hand mortar, rusty and battered by the storms of many years, with which Dick Winters had slowly and with infinite toil beaten and washed out the gold he was never to enjoy. After an hour's search they found the store of nuggets where Bill Frank had hidden them. Haney and Jim had never guessed how near they had come to the wealth for which they were searching.