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“‘That evening when they made camp at a small water hole, Judson walked away out of sight and hearing of the camp. When he could no longer be seen he turned, and, aiming his pistol at the dog, pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the ground between the animal’s legs, and he ran back a few paces and stood grinning at Judson showing his teeth, and his face looked like that of his old partner. Judson picked up a large rock and ran at the dog; the animal yelped slightly and started for camp. Judson increased his pace and the dog circled out into the desert.

“‘”Curse you,” cried Judson, “I’ll kill you yet.” Several times he threw stones at the animal, and twice he fell, bruising himself among the loose rocks. At last he sat down.

“‘”What is the matter with you,” shouted Stevens. “What are you running about and shouting in that way for?”

“‘”That confounded dog of mine,” answered Judson unthinkingly.

“‘”Nonsense, man, there isn’t any dog.”

“‘Judson walked slowly back to camp followed closely by the dog. The men looked at him strangely. That night when he went to sleep the brute came and lay down beside him. A horrid fear took possession of him and he pushed the thing away, but it immediately crawled back again. At last he arose and spent the rest of the night walking up and down the desert, the dog following close at his heels.

“‘When they arrived in Phoenix the doctor advised Judson to go to a quiet place and rest, and gave him an opiate.’

“‘Why don’t he go back and get the gold?’ asked the Eastern man.

“‘Because as I have told you whenever he starts to go back the dog meets him on the desert, and he is only free from it when he stays in Phoenix. He says the dog is his old partner, and will never let him go back there again. That is why he is willing to sell his secret.’

“‘But how do you know if we pay him this money,’ asked the Eastern man, ‘that we can find the gold?’

“‘Why, his map and directions together with the photographs ought to make it sure. Anyway, I am putting up $250 of my money with your $350, and run as much risk as you do; besides, you never would have known about it if it hadn’t been for me.’

“‘Won’t he take less than $600?’ asked the Eastern man.

“‘Not a cent; I have tried him too often. If I had $600 of my own I never would ask any one to go in with me. It’s a snap.’

“We found Judson seated in a big armchair, smoking a meerschaum pipe. His eyes had a peculiar wild expression, and he glared at us as we entered.

“‘What do you people want?’ he asked.

“‘We have come to buy your claim,’ said the Prospector.

“Judson laughed a strange, hard laugh.

“‘Always the same–gold, gold, gold. Have you the money with you to pay for it?’ he asked.

“The Prospector produced a bag of twenty-dollar gold pieces and shook it. ‘Here it is,’ he said, ‘this gentleman and myself have made up the amount–$600.’

“‘Well,’ shouted Judson, ‘give me the money and take the cursed claim, buried gold and all, and much good may it do you! I will go away–far away from here. My God, to think that I should sell a rich claim like that for nothing! But I wouldn’t go back to it for all the gold in the world. Three times I have tried, and each time that dog devil met me at the edge of the desert, grinning at me with the face of my dead partner. Here are the photographs and the map, take them and go, my head aches; go away and leave me.’

“He buried his face in his hands, groaning and muttering to himself. The Prospector put the bag of gold on the table, and taking the photographs and map left the room. We followed him, closing the door softly behind us.”

“Did you find the gold?” I asked.

“I didn’t look for it,” answered the Drummer. “They offered to let me in and give me a third interest for $300, but somehow I didn’t like the idea, and the whole thing seemed uncanny, and it is lucky I didn’t. The Prospector and the Eastern man got back a week later without having discovered the ‘Mound of Eternal Silence,’ both mad as hatters, and each laying the blame of the failure on the other. I have always wondered since if Judson was really as crazy as they thought he was.”

“Why,” I asked, “what made you doubt it?”

“Oh,” answered the Drummer, “I can’t exactly say I disbelieve his story, but–well, you see, about a month afterwards I was in Phoenix again, and one night I saw the Prospector and the lunatic taking a drink at a bar together. A little later the Prospector passed me without seeing me. He was walking arm in arm with a stranger, and as they went by I heard him say, ‘If I had the money I never would think of asking any one to go in with me. He calls it the “Mound of Eternal Silence….”‘

“They passed on, and their voices were lost to me in the distance.”