CHAPTER IX
LOST CANYON
The four girls at Casa Grande were hardly awake that first morning, when a shout brought them to the window.
It was Kit, seated on her spirited pony, that pawed the ground as she drew him up by the wall.
"Wake up, lazy girls!" cried Kit. "The Judge has been out for a ride before breakfast, and here you are missing the best part of the day. Come to the window and meet my friend, Powder."
"Oh, Kit," called Bet excitedly, "is that Powder? Do wait and let me ride him."
Kit laughed. "As I told you before, if you want to ride Powder after seeing how he acts with me, you can take a chance. He's trying to show me how much he loves me. Hurry up and get a bite to eat. I see Tommy getting the horses ready."
Much to the disgust of Tang, the girls hurried through their breakfast, hardly knowing what they were eating, so excited were they over the prospect of a ride in Lost Canyon.
"Are your western horses very wild?" asked Joy as she joined Kit in the courtyard. "I – I don't know how to ride very well."
"Don't worry, Joy! I brought you a safe one. We always give Dolly to people who can't ride well. She's as safe as a rocking chair."
Even Joy could feel no apprehension when she got into the saddle. Dolly was decidedly safe. On the least upgrade she puffed and stopped short to rest.
"Poor thing! She's all tired out!" exclaimed Bet, watching Joy's horse lumber up a heavy grade. "I think it's a shame, Tommy Sharpe, to let an old horse like that carry a load."
"I do sort of feel sorry for that horse, Dolly," drawled Kit. "Joy is such a heavy-weight that Dolly just has to puff. Why, she tips the scales at ninety-two pounds."
Everybody laughed and Tommy drew in his horse and waited until Joy came abreast on a level stretch. Then he reached over and dug into the horse's side.
Dolly leaped forward as Joy gave a cry of fright, but this only lasted for a moment. Dolly's speed was soon over and she settled back into her usually lazy pace.
"That horse is a cheat. If I were riding her she'd step along lively without urging. But she has a lot of sense and knows who is on her back," laughed Kit, offering Joy her quirt, which she carried only because it looked pretty. Powder never needed a quirt.
"Dolly isn't so very old. She's lazy!" said Tommy.
"Don't say that, Tommy. She isn't lazy, she was born tired," reproved Bet.
Joy refused the quirt. "Oh, I just couldn't use a whip, Kit. I just couldn't. Dolly's a nice horse and I wouldn't think of hurting her. I think you people are terribly hard-hearted and cruel." And as if Dolly understood just what was being said, she made for the shade of a large tree and stood still, and no amount of coaxing on Joy's part would make her budge.
"She won't do as I tell her, at all," pouted Joy.
"Then maybe you'll accept a quirt now and say 'thank you'," and Kit extended the quirt once more.
"I hate to use it," Joy looked bewildered, but the others were going on and would soon be far ahead. She brought the braided leather down on the side of the horse. Dolly sprang into action, galloped for a few minutes, then settled down to a jog trot. But by this time Joy was getting impatient. Again and again the quirt descended, and for a full minute at a time the horse trotted.
"Why you cruel, hard-hearted girl!" Bet shouted over her shoulder.
"How can you bear to hit that gentle creature?"
Joy wrinkled up her nose at Bet and motioned her to go on.
"Keep up the good work," called Tommy Sharpe. "We'll never get over to Sombrero Butte to-day, if you let Dolly set the pace. I wish I had given you Oso. That's a mean little imp of a burro. But at that I believe he'd have gone faster than Dolly."
"Oh, Tommy, I'd love to ride a burro. Will you let me, truly?" begged Joy.
"And so do I want to ride a burro, Tommy. I'm always thrilled to pieces when I see the picture of one." Bet had a sudden inspiration. "Let's have a burro party some day and all ride burros. I think that would be fun."
"That's O.K. for me, if you ride them, Bet. As for me, I'll ride Powder," spoke Kit contemptuously. "Why should anyone want to ride one of those contrary little beasts? I think they are horrid."
They had suddenly followed a trail into a canyon, which brought them down into the bed of a stream.
"This is Lost Canyon!" Kit called to the girls.
"I wonder how places get their names?" asked Bet. "Why did they call this Lost Canyon?"
"Nobody knows," responded Kit. "When I was a very little girl I always felt sorry for it. I truly thought it was lost and in my childish mind I planned to have the canyon find itself someday. Wasn't that silly?"
The girls laughed heartily, and the echo of their voices came back to them from the walls of the canyon.
But soon they left the large stream and rode up over the mountain. Tommy had his heart set on reaching Sombrero Butte, a high and inaccessible peak shaped like a huge cowboy hat, that rose above a flat-topped mountain. On reaching the foot of the butte, the young people drew rein and dismounted.
"I'm glad to be on the ground again!" Joy exclaimed with a heavy sigh.
"I don't care for horseback riding very much."
"What do you like, Joy? I mean in the way of sports. What do you like to do more than anything else?" asked Enid Breckenridge.
"I like dancing. I'm not as much of an outdoor girl as the rest of you. I go along, not because I like it, but I like the company. Now it's different with dancing, I could dance all day and all night."
"She's the ladylike member of The Merriweather Girls' Club," smiled Bet with an affectionate glance toward Joy. "She's a butterfly. As for me, I can't imagine why Fate played me such a mean trick as to send me into the world a girl, when I'd just love to have been a boy." Bet shot out the words with a vicious snap.
"Say, you girls don't know when you're well off." There was a wistful note in Tommy's voice. "People expect so much more of boys and are never satisfied with what we do, while you girls have your paths strewn with roses."
"Listen to him talk!" exclaimed Shirley. "I guess we girls have to struggle to live."
"And what girl wants her path strewn with roses anyway?" demanded Bet in disgust. "I want to have to fight my way, I want to do worth-while things. Right now, if I were a boy, I'd try to climb Sombrero Butte."
"Would you really do a silly thing like that, Bet Baxter?" asked Joy seriously. "I mean it. Tell me just why you'd do it?"
"I don't know why, but I'd do it because it would seem like a big thing to do. It would be hard work and when I accomplished it, I could always say, 'I climbed Sombrero Butte'."
"That's not much of an ambition. I should call that simply foolhardy!" Joy could never understand such a desire. It was too far away from her own temperament.
"Then," continued Bet, "I'd travel. I'd discover things, I'd find a new continent or a river or something. I'd like to go to South Africa and dig for diamonds. That would be romantic."
Joy laughed. "Now I can half-way understand that. Diamonds are worth while. If you were a man, whom would you bestow those diamonds on?"
"You – most likely. Men who do big things always fall hard for a handful of fluff like you," returned Bet, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"And there you'd show your good sense," Joy smiled in a provoking way.
"I almost wish you were a man, Bet."
As everybody laughed Bet soon regained her poise. Such flare-ups were frequent with Bet, a sudden flash of fire and then calm. The girls understood her and did not resent her bursts of impatience.
Tommy Sharpe leaned over and picked up a small stone from the ground, exclaiming: "Look here, girls, while you're talking of discovering things, I find a treasure."
"What is it?" cried Bet grasping Tommy's closed hand. "Let me see?"
"An arrowhead!" Kit burst out contemptuously. "Not much of a discovery in that. I'm sick and tired of arrowheads."
"Why, I think it's wonderful to find one!" Bet examined the little sharpened piece of flint. "I wish I could find one."
"I'll let you have this one," Tommy offered.
"No, that wouldn't be the same. To make it a real treasure I must find one myself," answered Bet as she looked longingly at the stone.
The girls began to search the ground for arrow-heads, but Shirley was the only successful one and even her find was a doubtful treasure as it had a large nick in it.
"You don't need to worry, girls, you have all summer to find arrowheads, if that's what you want," laughed Kit.
"I have a cigar box full of them at home," said Tommy. "I'd like to give you some. But now we'd better be going. It will be dinner time before we get back to the ranch."
"Let's go!" Kit swung herself into the saddle and as Powder's spirit had returned he gave an exhibition of bucking and rearing that made Joy scream for she was certain that Kit would be dashed against the rocks. At Joy's scream, Powder took fright and madly raced down the steep trail with Kit clutching the saddle horn for dear life.
"Oh, Bet, she's going to be killed, I know it!" sobbed Joy. "Oh, I hate horses. Bet, do something! Kit will be hurt!"
"Don't worry about Kit. Just watch her and see how she sits in the saddle, for all the world as if she were part of the animal." Bet was fascinated by the skill with which Kit handled her horse, and she urged her pony forward so as to watch Kit more closely. It took all of Enid's and Shirley's persuasions to get Joy into the saddle.
"Come on, Joy, don't be a silly! Kit's a trained cowgirl. That horse can't unseat her."
Knowing that she was headed toward home, Dolly kept up a steady trot that covered the miles rapidly. There was no more stopping to pant and blow. Dolly knew that food and drink was waiting at the ranch.
Just as they reached the end of the canyon and prepared to take the trail to the ranch house, a slouching figure rose from the side of the canyon.
It was Kie Wicks.
"Well, well, and what are you folks doing in the canyon this morning?" he asked, for all the world as if he owned the whole district and feared that they were stealing from him.
"I took them over to Sombrero Butte," replied Tommy Sharpe. "I'm to show them all the interesting places in the mountains this summer."
Kie Wicks smiled, but the girls could see that he resented their presence there.
"That's a fine idea. I hope you'll bring them over to Cayuga. Maude will show them around," he invited cordially, yet as the girls turned their horses' heads up grade, Bet turned suddenly and was surprised at the look of hatred and distrust that was in the face of the storekeeper.
"I wonder why he dislikes us so much," thought Bet, but decided not to pass on her knowledge to the others. Joy would be sure to get nervous and Kit might get into an argument with Kie or Maude and Enid Breckenridge would certainly tell her father and he would insist on them having an escort, or not allowing them to go into the canyon again.
So Bet kept her secret, and the girls did not suspect that Kie was actively unfriendly, they thought him a brusque, ignorant desert dweller whose friendship they could depend on, if needed.
They had not yet learned that Kie Wicks could not be depended on for friendship or loyalty to anyone. He was a suspicious man, always believing the worst of people, and when The Merriweather Girls showed an interest in Lost Canyon, old Indian relics, and even the pleasure of finding arrowheads, Kie Wicks was certain that they had heard of the treasure of Lost Canyon and were going to hunt for it.
And Kie Wicks considered that to be his own special mission in life. He believed implicitly in the old legend that there was a treasure buried in the canyon, and all of his spare time was used up in a search that had continued for ten years. Twice he had formed a company to locate the treasure, he had spent all the money subscribed and had failed. Still his faith held that he would eventually find it.
Maude usually tended the store and Kie spent days at a time drifting around the canyons and hoping that he would stumble upon a clue that would reveal the hidden gold.
He watched the girls ascend the steep hill, gazed after them until they disappeared over the summit, then shook his fist toward the place where they had been.
"Let them take care not to cross me. I can only stand just so much," he muttered.
Kie turned slowly away, mounted his horse and rode down the canyon toward Cayuga.
Ahead of him was a great hole in the rock, an undertaking of his dated some years before and financed by his friends. He frowned at the tunnel dug into the bank, then his frown became a scowl and a ferocious one, for a man was standing there studying the workings, so intent on it that he did not hear the approach of the rider.
"What you doing there?" roared Kie Wicks. And as the man turned he recognized the little professor whom he had met at Judge Breckenridge's ranch the previous day. Kie laughed to himself. Here was one man he need never fear. Inefficiency and irresponsibility were stamped upon ever line of the little man's figure.
"He's childish and perhaps a bit off," thought the mountaineer. He turned to the professor. "That's a mining claim belonging to me. It has promise of wealth in it. You're not by any chance looking for some likely claims, are you?"
"No," replied the professor truthfully. "I've come out here to hunt for Indian relics."
Kie eyed the professor distrustfully. To himself he said: "That's a likely story! Indian relics! What would a grown man want with them?" Then he turned to the old man. "You are in the wrong district," he asserted. "Who ever told you there were Indian relics in this section? Why, we don't even find arrowheads in this part of the country. Now over on the San Pedro there's lots of mounds and things. There's where you ought to go."
"That's a great disappointment. I've come a long way to unearth an old village or something of the sort."
"You're barking up the wrong tree, mister! There ain't nothing around here."
As the professor took leave and rode up the trail, his face was a puzzle. "That's queer," he sighed. "Judge Breckenridge certainly told me that he had made some very important discoveries himself. But this man who belongs here should know more about it. I can't make it all out."
Even Ma Patten's good cooking and her cheerful chatter could not restore the old man's optimism.
"He's tired himself out the first morning," whispered Kit to her mother, after the professor had left the table and seated himself on a large rock overlooking the canyon.
Then, as they watched, they saw him slap his knee vehemently as he arose with a smile.
"That fellow is a fraud! He's trying to mislead me! I know his type now. He wants to keep everything for himself."
He would have been certain of this if he had seen Kie Wicks emerging from the canyon. Kie shook his head decidedly. "There, I put a spike in the professor's gun. He simply wilted. I'm rid of him all right."
But, as the horse followed the well worn trail, he mused. "There's treasure there, I know it! It's my treasure! Mine!"
CHAPTER X
THE PROFESSOR'S JOB
Within a few days the professor's tent and cot arrived, and after that Ma Patten pleaded in vain for him to stay with them. The old man was independent and insisted on getting established in his own quarters. He had already chosen a spot in Lost Canyon with the aid of Indian Joe, who knew the best springs and the best place to pitch a tent.
And Professor Gillette could not have had a better helper. Under a huge cottonwood tree, there was a bubbling spring, cool and clear, and down the creek a short distance was a small pool.
"Why, there's my bath room!" laughed the old man. "Talk about modern conveniences, I have them all."
The Merriweather Girls were eager to help the old man get settled. And when the five of them with Tommy Sharpe got to work they soon had everything in order. Tommy levelled a space and beat it down until it was smooth. Judge Breckenridge had suggested that boards be laid for a floor but at this the professor protested vehemently.
"I've come out here to live the simple life, the life of an explorer. I want to rough it, even endure hardships. It will do me good," he asserted, objecting to anything that might seem like luxury.
But after a day or two of trying to cook his meals over a small outdoor fire, he accepted a tiny stove from Mrs. Patten. Primitive living was all right, but it was a waste of time to cook over an open fire.
And one day he returned from a long hike over the hills and settled into a rocking chair that the good neighbor had placed before his door, in his absence, and did not protest but took it gratefully. After a strenuous day, it would be good to drop into the restful depths of an easy chair and enjoy the glories of the canyon.
But he refused her help very decidedly when she dropped in one morning and found him at his weekly wash. His shirts and overalls were spread out on a large flat stone in the creek and he was beating them incessantly with a small paddle.
"I'm enjoying the washing," he declared with a laugh. "I don't mind it at all."
"But your work, your discoveries?" inquired Ma Patten.
"They can wait while I get clean! Anyway I haven't had much luck. The Indians will give me no help at all."
"Why are you so keen about these Indian relics? We can give you any number of arrowheads and baskets and stuff. You're welcome to them if it will help you any," offered Mrs. Patten sympathetically.
"That's not exactly what I want," the professor said. "I'm interested in American Indians, and have always been considered an authority on the subject. But I'm getting old and younger men are stepping into the field. They think I'm just a musty old professor with nothing but a book knowledge of Indian ruins. So I have to show them."
"What's the use?" answered Ma Patten contemptuously. "These young fellows always can beat us in the end and we might as well give up gracefully."
"But that isn't all. My job's at stake. If I don't do something to get up-to-date I'll be shoved out. They want men who go out and do spectacular things that get them into the newspapers. I was told that my department would have to be snapped up a bit! Isn't that terrible language for educators to use? And if my job goes, I don't know what I'll do. I've got responsibilities, heavy ones."
"Have you a large family, Professor Gillette?" asked the woman.
"No, I have only one daughter but she is an invalid. She was studying to be a dancer and one slippery day in winter she fell and broke her hip. And she has never been able to dance since."
"Oh, that's terrible! The poor child!"
"She's as happy as a lark. She has never given up faith that as soon as she is taken to see a specialist in the city, she will be cured. It is for that operation that I must earn more money. And with the fear of losing my position in the college you can see why I must make good this summer."
"Well, you'll find plenty of Indian signs around these mountains," Mrs.
Patten informed him.
"That's strange!" The professor exclaimed, "That man, Kie Wicks, claims that there never were Indians in these hills. None to speak of, he said. Told me I was barking up the wrong tree. Oh yes, he was quite certain I was going to fail. But I mustn't fail! I can't fail!"
"Of course you won't fail! And you needn't believe a word that Kie Wicks says. He doesn't want people to come into this canyon. He believes in the myth about the treasure and he makes it hard for anyone who comes in. One old prospector had to leave because Kie had it in for him. He just couldn't stay."
"What did Kie Wicks do?" asked the old man.
"Well, for one thing he would sell the prospector meat and at night steal it all back. And the old chap was shot at in the dark and threatened until he gave up after putting in several months working on the claims. So you needn't expect any help from that ruffian," stormed Ma Patten.
"I don't know what to do. I must find that Indian village." Professor Gillette had no notion of giving up, not for all the western bad men he had ever heard about. He had come to Arizona to find an Indian village and that he must do.
"Why don't you go over the hill there? We used to find bits of pottery and arrowheads and even some Indian ornaments made of silver. I have a few of them at home. Be sure to remind me to show them to you. You'll be interested."
The professor's face glowed with excitement. "I'd like to ask you for more particulars as to the exact place," he exclaimed.
"I'll do better than that. Kit will take you over there some day and like as not you'll find just what you are after," Mrs. Patten assured him.
While they were still talking Tommy Sharpe arrived with a note from Mrs. Breckenridge. It was an invitation to supper that evening.
"Isn't that kind! I'll be so glad to go. She's a beautiful and gracious woman."
"It's a sort of party, I judge," said Mrs. Patten, beaming with pleasure and opening a note that Tommy had passed her. "We're all invited to dinner."
That was Virginia Breckenridge's way of keeping in touch with her neighbors. On learning of Professor Gillette's business in the mountains, she had sent to New York for books on Indian legends, Indian ruins and anything that might give the professor a clue to what he wanted to find. And much to her surprise, a book on Indian legends was written by Anton Gillette.
"Our professor is a modest man," laughed Enid. "Imagine him not telling us that he had written a book. He's got his typewriter with him, I wonder if he is planning another book."
"Let's go and ask him," announced Bet, jumping up and starting toward the door.
"It's ten o'clock! He'll be sound asleep," said Shirley. "Don't you think you can wait until morning?"
Bet had waited and then asked the old man, but she got little satisfaction. The professor was shy about his work.
But that was exactly what he was planning to do. If he could make some discoveries, get some practical knowledge and then write about it, he would save his job and increase his income so that his daughter might get the treatment to restore her health.
A sum of money had been offered to the old man for research work, and he had accepted it gladly. He knew from the history of Arizona that a large Indian village must have been situated in the region of Lost Canyon, and it was here that he hoped to find the burial place of the wealthy chief.
The younger teachers heard of his plan and smiled with condescension. They did not imagine for a minute that the old man could stand the strenuous trip to the southwest and find the Indian village. It was a stunt that they would have hesitated to undertake.
But Anton Gillette was made of different stuff. Here was his chance, he must win out. As he looked into the pale face of his daughter, Alicia, her eyes glowing with hope both for her father and her own future, he had vowed that no hardships would be too great for him to overcome.
And here he was in the mountains, camping in Lost Canyon within, he believed, arm's length of the ruins. But so far he had not found them.
Luck was with him, that he knew. Everywhere from the time he had left home, he had found friends to help him. They gladly gave him advice, and in the case of The Merriweather Girls, they would have been happy to serve him in every way. They were quite indignant when the old man pitched his tent far from the ranch where they could not see him so often.
"It will never do," thought the professor. "I'll get soft if they wait on me and give me the idea that I can't do things for myself."
But the invitation from Virginia Breckenridge was another thing. These visits he loved. They were always helpful. The Judge was as interested in the finding of the ruins now as the old man himself. It was his only way to help the independent professor, who refused all financial aid, and the two men were often seen riding the hills together, speculating on the prospect of an ancient village there.
But still they had not found it, after a week of search.
Someone else was anxious to accompany the old man on his trips. It was Kie Wicks.
And while Professor Gillette enjoyed the daily visits of the girls and the occasional calls from Judge Breckenridge or Dad Patten, he found the storekeeper very trying. Kie arrived at the tent early and stayed late.
"That man acts as if he were spying on me. I wonder what he's afraid of. There is nothing here to steal that I can see."
This continued for a week and then ended abruptly. After that Kie Wicks came only once in a long time. This had been Maude's doing.
"You ain't getting no where at all, Kie. You keep that old book-worm from hunting or doing whatever he wants to do. Now if I were you, I'd let old Booky do his searching, then cook up a plan to do him out of whatever he finds."
"Maude, you're a wonder! Why didn't I think of that myself? I couldn't have found a better wife anywhere than you."
So Kie did not appear the next morning.
But it was not until noon that the professor knew that he had been deserted. His patience was at an end so he had risen before dawn and left the tent, striking off over the hills where Mrs. Patten had indicated. He returned at noon with arrowheads and a stone axe but there was no sign of ruins.
But the old man was not discouraged. These signs of Indians merely gave him the necessary urge to investigate.
Before he had finished lunch the girls arrived.
"Where's your bosom friend today?" they asked mockingly. "You and Kie Wicks are almost inseparable. It's quite touching to see such devotion," laughed Bet, who knew of the old man's impatience.
Bet laughed and the contagion of her merriment started the other girls and their voices echoed back to them from the canyon wall opposite.
While they stood there, a strange procession appeared around the bend in the trail. A band of horses one after the other, filed by.
"Poor horses!" exclaimed Bet in sympathy.
"Horses!" sneered Kit. "Those are not horses, they are just racks of bones, that's all. And that's the way most of the Indian ponies look."
The professor was speechless. He watched the procession with interest. Fat squaws rode huddled over their nags, each carrying a baby strapped to her back. Small boys ran beside the horses or clung on behind the mother. The men usually rode free and on one of the animals, the professor saw an old Indian.
"I wish I could talk to him," he whispered to Kit, who was standing near him.
"You'll have your chance before the day is over. They usually camp right here where you are. I'm surprised that Indian Joe suggested this spot. They are not apt to go far away from here."
As Kit spoke the squaw heading the procession stopped, and it looked as if she rolled off her horse as she dismounted. She had evidently found a suitable place to camp. The professor was delighted that it was on the opposite side of the stream where he could watch them. A tepee was made almost before the squaws were all out of their saddles. A large piece of sacking was thrown over small bushes which were tied together at the top to form an arch. This was the only shelter put up by the Indians when on the march.
The men dismounted, sat down by the stream and smoked their pipes, while the women and children scurried about, gathering fire wood and starting a blaze.
In a few minutes they had settled down to life for a few days, the life that the Indians loved, carefree, indolent and happy.
The professor was greatly elated. Here was a chance to watch the modern Indian at least and see how he lived. He would have something to tell his class.
"That's Old Mapia," confided Kit. "He's supposed to be about a hundred years old. You're in luck if you can get him to talk. Some of the young ones will translate for him if he gets stuck. I'll send Old Mary over, if he won't talk to you. She can make him tell stories."
Before the afternoon was over, the professor had invited the old Indian to have a smoke with him, then offered him cookies and other delicacies, and while he accepted without a sign of appreciation, the ice was broken and when the professor began to ask questions the old Indian answered as well as he could, and Young Wolf supplied the missing words that his grandfather had forgotten.
"Yes, once a very long time ago there were many Indians here, a city!" droned the old fellow and the professor edged closer to hear him, fascinated by the wrinkled face.
"My father – my grandfather, yes, he know. Up yonder somewhere a large village, where the Indians make baskets and rugs and silver and pottery, long ago. There were good times then. Indians plenty rich. No white men. My grandfather tell me heaps."
"Where was the village?" asked Professor Gillette.
"No find any more, – gone!" The Indian shook his head and with a wave of his hand indicated every hill surrounding the canyon.
"I think he knows," the professor confided to the girls that afternoon when he went up to see Dad Patten. "But it's probably a secret."
"No, it's on account of the curse," said Kit.
"But what has the curse to do with it?" the professor asked.
"Plenty. The daughter of the old chief still walks at times, and she cursed that village, and the Indians try to forget that there ever was such a place. None of them will go near it."
"What does the ghost look like, Kit?" asked Bet.
"She always wears a costume of deerskin and feathers. And at night she just appears out of nothing in Lost Canyon. One minute she isn't there and the next she is. And when she appears she is supposed to curse those who see her. They run for their lives."
"Is that true?" Joy's voice was trembling. "If it is, I won't ever go into this canyon again."
"Don't worry, Joy. If you are good you'll never see the ghost. Only those who are planning to do wrong see her."
The girls laughed at the timid Joy. "Don't worry, dear," Bet patted her hand lovingly. "I'll take care of you."
"Some say," went on Kit, "that the ruin of the village must be left untouched, and that any one disturbing it will see the ghost."
"And that's why Old Mapia won't talk," said the professor. "He's afraid of the curse. It would hasten matters very much if I could get some reliable information as to the location of the village."