Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1914-04-24
IN DEATH VALLEY
355F@FFE
BY JOHN BLUNT


ing for the right to live. Across the
biistering sands they staggered on foot,
trail Of discarded saddle bags, cart
ridge belts, food, and finally even coats
and hats dotted the arid plain behind
them to mark their mad desire to
travel light, and to reach the noun
tains ahead. Unless those hills were
gained before another two hours
Faster now they stumbled forward.
Heads rolling. glazed eyes fixed only
on their goal with black and swollen
tongues protuding from their broken
hips, they scufled through the scorch-
Ing surface Of the desert, whistling
breath and muttered curses accom-
panying each painful step.
Suddenly the taller of the two
stopped.
He unlimbered the canteen from his
shoulders. Unsorewing the top, he
tilted the tin to his caricature Of a
mouth and took two meager swallows.
It was the third time in the last ten
minutes he had helped himself from
the water supply of both Standing
behind him, the other stole his hand
into his shirt, his fingers closing
around the butt Of the pistol hidden
there. Why should he let his COM
panion take from that canteen what
would go twice as far with only one
parched throat to moisten? He drew
out his gun. Besides, the man would
have to die anyway.
Swiftly he drew bead on him as he
stood screwing back the top of the
canteen. A bullet through the small
part Of the back, he meditated, would
do the trick with neatness and dis.
patch.
And then-he lowered the weapon
and thrust 1t back in its hiding place.
He couldn't do 1t. Not that he found
1t impossible to shoot down from be-
hind defenseless man who was his
friend, his partner That in its prop
OF time, he was bent on doing any
how, wasn't he?
The thing was-the thing was, he
was afraid. Afraid of what would
have come after he had done for his
companion. Then he would be alone.
Alone in the desert. They said that
no man could ever come through
It; that a man by himself in that
Hades would go mad, raving crazy in
an hour. Ie-was afraid to be alone
Without glance behind him, the
other had again started on. Into zig
gag step at his heels, the man with
the hidden pistol fell once more. Over
the blazing sand they fastened; on
toward the hills.
Six weeks before the man with the
canteen had pursuaded the other that
gold for the seeking lay in the noun
ta1ns to the west of Death Valley.
Together they had started out. With
two burros and a sizable camping out.
At 1t had been easy to cross the desert
the first time.
But. by the time they found what
they had gone after, both animals had
died, the camping outfit had to be
left behind on their return trip over
the plain. and-it had not been so
easy on this second journey.
Indeed, not. Three days now, they
had been tramping across the desert
In what they thought was the general
direction of the mountain chain In
the east. Were they any nearer to it
Would two hours more bring them to
their haven, or-were they actually
lost?
No! No! That could not be. Such
q gibe Of fate would be too cruel. too
inhumanly malicious. They had found
gold. They must get back to civil
ization in order to realize on their dis
covery, in order to make 1t of
more value than the finding of SO much
yellow putty.
They were rich men. Rich? They
were billionaires! Among those
mountains in the west they had un-
covered vein of pure metal that was
beyond the dreams of avarice, sur
passing an actual Ell Dorado, worth
more than an emperor's ransom.
They were kings of wealth, princes
of fortune, such as even a Rockefeller
would have to doff his hat to.
They must get back to the civilized
world with all that 1t would mean
to such Midases as they.
That is-one of them must get back.
The man with the gun concealed from
the others view in his shirt knew
who that one was going to be. He
brought his hand to the weapon
again. How simply 1t was all going
to work out. Just one shot, the man
in front would drop like a log, his
claim on the Golconda in the western
hills cease to eMs.. and he-he alone
would own the whOls. staggering
thing!
Once more he had the gun out in
his hand, its muzle trained on the
spine of his unsuspicious companion.
And once more he stopped
What of that fear?
The dread of being alone in Death
Valley, that inferno where rumor had
1t hundreds of lone men had been
driven stark crazy by the heat, the
trackless solitude, and ALL stayed him
from the deed he contemplated-he
couldn't lose his companion just yet