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surrounded by insistent, shoving people who fought for their attention.
     
    “The mine,” someone shouted. “Where’s the mine?”
     
    “I’m with the
Phoenix Record,”
said a fat man, taking Arlo’s arm. “I want your story for my newspaper.”
     
    “Damn it,” bawled Arlo, “everybody back off! This is a private matter.”
     
    “You can’t keep a gold strike private,” somebody shouted, a sentiment quickly echoed by a dozen other voices.
     
    “Break it up!” Sheriff Wheaton bawled. “Clear the courtroom.”
     
    The sheriff’s intervention provided enough of a diversion for Arlo and Dallas to dash through the crowd and get to the door.
     
    “Come on,” said Arlo, once they were outside. “We’re goin’ to offer to work with Davis and Rust, and if they refuse, I have a little surprise for them.”
     
    The Missouri party had returned to the hotel, also seeking to avoid the crowd from the courthouse. Reaching the Davis suite, Arlo knocked on the door and Davis opened it. There was no sign of the girls or of Mrs. Davis. Barry Rust and R. J. Bollinger sat next to a folding table on which stood a half-empty whiskey bottle. Arlo and Dallas made no move to enter, nor did Davis invite them in.
     
    “Unless there’s some way of us working together,” said Arlo, “we aim to start our search tomorrow. Alone.”
     
    “Go ahead,” sneered Davis. “You don’t have the rest of the map.”
     
    “We don’t need it,” Arlo said.
     
    Davis slammed the door, but not before Arlo and Dallas saw his face go white and the shocked expressions on the faces of his companions.
     
    “For whatever it’s worth,” said Dallas, “you struck pay dirt.”
     
    “It’s worth plenty,” Arlo said, “because they need us, and we
don’t
need them. They don’t know that both halves of the map are the same, that there is only
one
map.”
     
    “You’re right,” said Dallas, “we’re that much ahead. But we don’t happen to be all that familiar with the Superstitions. We still have to find the claim.”
     
    “If it can be found, we’ll find it,” Arlo said, “and Hoss was countin’ on that. I want the rest of the gold-hungrycoyotes that’ll be trailin’ us to get the same idea. It’ll keep us alive until we find the gold.”
     
    “We’d best spend the rest of the day gettin’ our supplies together,” said Dallas. “I’ll ride back to the cabin and fetch the mule.”
     
    “No,” Arlo said, “we’ll buy another mule and a pack-saddle here in town. I aim for Paiute to ride that mule that belonged to Hoss.”
     
    “Are we takin’ him with us for his sake or for ours?”
     
    “Some of both,” said Arlo. “He has nowhere to go, and he’s spent the last twenty years with Hoss in the Superstitions. He can’t talk, but he knows we’re the closest pards Hoss had. I can’t shake the feeling that before we reach the end of this trail, we’ll be glad that old Indian’s with us. I think we’ll stay in town tonight and pick him up tomorrow.”
     
    “We ain’t exactly flush,” Dallas noted. “Can we afford a hotel?”
     
    “The best,” replied Arlo. “We’ll stay right here at the Frontier.”
     
    At the desk Arlo requested a first-floor room. Much to his satisfaction, they were given a room right across the hall from the Davis suite.
     
    “I reckon you aim to give them Missouri coyotes a chance to make a move before we ride out in the morning,” Dallas said.
     
    “Not so much that,” said Arlo, “as the possibility we’ll be able to talk to the Logan girls. They haven’t been allowed to say a word to us. Given a chance, I reckon they could tell us plenty.”
     
    “I think you’re right about that,” Dallas agreed. “I got the feeling they wanted to talk to us but didn’t dare. They might risk it if they know we’re right across the hall.”
     
    “They’ll know,” said Arlo. Reaching the Davis suite, Arlo nudged the bottom of the door with his boot. When