He and that wandering wolf were brothers.
Then a sharp clink of metal on stone and soft pads of hoofs in sand
prompted Cameron to reach for his gun, and to move out of the light
of the waning campfire. He was somewhere along the wild border line
between Sonora and Arizona; and the prospector who dared the heat and
barrenness of that region risked other dangers sometimes as menacing.
Figures darker than the gloom approached and took shape, and in
the light turned out to be those of a white man and a heavily
packed burro.
"Hello there," the man called, as he came to a halt and gazed
about him. "I saw your fire. May I make camp here?"
Cameron came forth out of the shadow and greeted his visitor, whom
he took for a prospector like himself. Cameron resented the breaking
of his lonely campfire vigil, but he respected the law of the desert.
The stranger thanked him, and then slipped the pack from his burro.
Then he rolled out his pack and began preparations for a meal. His
movements were slow and methodical.
Cameron watched him, still with resentment, yet with a curious and
growing interest. The campfire burst into a bright blaze, and by
its light Cameron saw a man whose gray hair somehow did not seem to
make him old, and whose stooped shoulders did not detract from an
impression of rugged strength.
"Find any mineral?" asked Cameron, presently.
His visitor looked up quickly, as if startled by the sound of a
human voice.
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