walk　along　the　stream　bed。　　Cameron；　at　first　amused；　then　amazed；　then　pitying；　and　at　last　curious；　kept　pace　with　the　prospector。　　He　saw　a　strong　tension　of　his　comrade's　wrists；　as　if　he　was　holding　hard　against　a　considerable　force。　　The　end　of　the　peach　branch　began　to　quiver　and　turn。　　Cameron　reached　out　a　hand　to　touch　it；　and　was　astounded　at　feeling　a　powerful　vibrant　force　pulling　the　branch　downward。　　He　felt　it　as　a　magnetic　shock。　　The　branch　kept　turning；　and　at　length　pointed　to　the　ground。
  〃Dig　here；〃　said　the　prospector。
  〃What！〃　ejaculated　Cameron。　　Had　the　man　lost　his　mind？
  Then　Cameron　stood　by　while　his　comrade　dug　in　the　sand。　　Three　feet　he　dugfourfive；　and　the　sand　grew　dark；　then　moist。　　At　six　feet　water　began　to　seep　through。
  〃Get　the　little　basket　in　my　pack；〃　he　said。
  Cameron　complied；　and　saw　his　comrade　drop　the　basket　into　the　deep　hole；　where　it　kept　the　sides　from　caving　in　and　allowed　the　water　to　seep　through。　　While　Cameron　watched；　the　basket　filled。　　Of　all　the　strange　incidents　of　his　desert　career　this　was　the　strangest。　Curiously　he　picked　up　the　peach　branch　and　held　it　as　he　had　seen　it　held。　　The　thing；　however；　was　dead　in　his　hands。
  〃I　see　you　haven't　got　it；〃　remarked　his　comrade。　　〃Few　men　have。〃
  〃Got　what？〃　demanded　Cameron。
  〃A　power　to　find　water　that　way。　　Back　in　Illinois　an　old　German　used　to　do　that　to　locate　wells。　　He　showed　me　I　had　the　same　power。　I　can't　explain。　　But　you　needn't　look　so　dumfounded。　　There's　nothing　supernatural　about　it。〃
  〃You　mean　it's　a　simple　factthat　some　men　have　a　magnetism；　a　force　or　power　to　find　water　as　you　did？〃
  〃Yes。　　It's　not　unusual　on　the　farms　back　in　Illinois；　Ohio；　Pennsylvania。　　The　old　German　I　spoke　of　made　money　traveling　round　with　his　peach　fork。〃
  〃What　a　gift　for　a　man　in　the　desert！〃
  Cameron's　comrade　smiledthe　second　time　in　all　those　days。
  They　entered　a　region　where　mineral　abounded；　and　their　march　became　slower。　　Generally　they　took　the　course　of　a　wash；　one　on　each　side；　and　let　the　burros　travel　leisurely　along　nipping　at　the　bleached　blades　of　scant　grass；　or　at　sage　or　cactus；　while　they　searched　in　the　canyons　and　under　the　ledges　for　signs　of　gold。　　When　they　found　any　rock　that　hinted　of　gold　they　picked　off　a　piece　and　gave　it　a　chemical　test。　　The　search　was　fascinating。　　They　interspersed　the　work　with　long；　restful　moments　when　they　looked　afar　down　the　vast　reaches　and　smoky　shingles　to　the　line　of　dim　mountains。　Some　impelling　desire；　not　all　the　lure　of　gold；　took　them　to　the　top　of　mesas　and　escarpments；　and　here；　when　they　had　dug　and　picked；　they　rested　and　gazed　out　at　the　wide　prospect。　　Then；　as　the　sun　lost　its　heat　and　sank　lowering　to　dent　its　red　disk　behind　far…distant　spurs；　they　halted　in　a　shady　canyon　or　likely　spot　in　a　dry　wash　and　tried　for　water。　　When　they　found　it　they　unpacked；　gave　drink　to　the　tired　burros；　and　turned　them　loose。　　Dead　mesquite　served　for　the　campfire。　　While　the　strange　twilight　deepened　into　weird　night　they　sat　propped　against　stones；　with　eyes　on　the　dying　embers　of　the　fire；　and　soon　they　lay　on　the　sand　with　the　light　of　white　stars　on　their　dark　faces。
  Each　succeeding　day　and　night　Cameron　felt　himself　more　and　more　drawn　to　this　strange　man。　　He　found　that　after　hours　of　burning　toil　he　had　insensibly　grown　nearer　to　his　comrade。　　He　reflected　that　after　a　few　weeks　in　the　desert　he　had　always　become　a　different　man。　In　civilization；　in　the　rough　mining　camps；　he　had　been　a　prey　to　unrest　and　gloom。　　but　once　down　on　the　great　billowing　sweep　of　this　lonely　world；　he　could　look　into　his　unquiet　soul　without　bitterness。　Did　not　the　desert　magnify　men？　　Cameron　believed　that　wild　men　in　wild　places；　fighting　cold；　heat；　starvation；　thirst；　barrenness；　facing　the　elements　in　all　their　ferocity；　usually　retrograded；　descended　to　the　savage；　lost　all　heart　and　soul　and　became　mere　brutes。　　Likewise　he　believed　that　men　wandering　or　lost　in　the　wilderness　often　reversed　that　brutal　order　of　life　and　became　noble；　wonderful；　super…human。　　So　now　he　did　not　marvel　at　a　slow　stir　stealing　warmer　along　his　veins；　and　at　the　premonition　that　perhaps　he　and　this　man；　alone　on　the　desert；　driven　there　by　life's　mysterious　and　remorseless　motive；　were　to　see　each　other　through　God's　eyes。
  His　companion　was　one　who　thought　of　himself　last。　　It　humiliated　Cameron　that　in　spite　of　growing　keenness　he　could　not　hinder　him　from　doing　more　than　an　equal　share　of　the　day's　work。　　The　man　was　mild；　gentle；　quiet；　mostly　silent；　yet　under　all　his　softness　he　seemed　to　be　mad　of　the　fiber　of　steel。　　Cameron　could　not　thwart　him。　　Moreover；　he　appeared　to　want　to　find　gold　for　Cameron；　not　for　himself。　　Cameron's　hands　always　trembled　at　the　turning　of　rock　that　promised　gold；　he　had　enough　of　the　prospector's　passion　for　fortune　to　thrill　at　the　chance　of　a　strike。　　But　the　other　never　showed　the　least　trace　of　excitement。
  One　night　they　were　encamped　at　the　head　of　a　canyon。　　They　day　had　been　exceedingly　hot；　and　long　after　sundown　the　radiation　of　heat　from　the　rocks　persisted。　　A　desert　bird　whistled　a　wild；　melancholy　note　from　a　dark　cliff；　and　a　distant　coyote　wailed　mournfully。　The　stars　shone　white　until　the　huge　moon　rose　to　burn　out　all　their　whiteness。　　And　on　this　night　Cameron　watched　his　comrade；　and　yielded　to　interest　he　had　not　heretofore　voiced。
  〃Pardner；　what　drives　you　into　the　desert？〃
  〃Do　I　seem　to　be　a　driven　man？〃
  〃No。　but　I　feel　it。　　Do　you　come　to　forget？〃
  〃Yes。〃
  〃Ah！〃　softly　exclaimed　Cameron。　　Always　he　seemed　to　have　known　that。　　He　said　no　more。　　He　watched　the　old　man　rise　and　begin　his　nightly　pace　to　and　fro；　up　and　down。　　With　slow；　soft　tread；　forward　and　back；　tirelessly　and　ceaselessly；　he　paced　that　beat。　He　did　not　look　up　at　the　stars　or　follow　the　radiant　track　of　the　moon　along　the　canyon　ramparts。　　He　hung　his　head。　　He　was　lost　in　another　world。　　It　was　a　world　which　the　lonely　desert　made　real。　He　looked　a　dark；　sad；　plodding　figure；　and　somehow　impressed　Cameron　with　the　helplessness　of　men。
  Cameron　grew　acutely　conscious　of　the　pang　in　his　own　breast；　of　the　fire　in　his　heart；　the　strife　and　torment　of　his　passion…driven　soul。　　He　had　come　into　the　desert　to　remember　a　woman。　　She　appeared　to　him　then　as　she　had　looked　when　first　she　entered　his　lifea　golden…haired　girl；　blue…eyed；　white…skinned；　red…lipped；　tall　and　slender　and　beautiful。　He　had　never　forgotten；　and　an　old；　sickening　remorse　knocked　at　his　heart。　　He　rose　and　climbed　out　of　the　canyon　and　to　the　top　of　a　mesa；　where　he　paced　to　and　fro　and　looked　down　into　the　weird　and　mystic　shadows；　like　the　darkness　of　his　passion；　and　farther　on　down　the　moon　track　and　the　glittering　stretches　that　vanished　in　the　cold；　blue　horizon。　　The　moon　soared　radiant　and　calm；　the　white　stars　shone　serene。　　The　vault　of　heaven　seemed　illimitable　and　divine。　　The　desert　surrounded　him；　silver…streaked　and　black…mantled；　a　chaos　of　rock　and　sand；　silent；　austere；　ancient；　always　waiting。　　It　spoke　to　Cameron。　　It　was　a　naked　corpse；　but　it　had　a　soul。　　In　that　wild　solitude　the　white　stars　looked　down　upon　him　pitilessly　and　pityingly。　　They　had　shone　upon　a　desert　that　might　once　have　been　alive　and　was　now　dead；　and　might　again　throb　with　life；　only　to　die。　　It　was　a　terrible　ordeal　for　him　to　stand　along　and　realize　that　he　was　only　a　man　facing　eternity。　　But　that　was　what　gave　him　strength　to　endure。　Somehow　he　was　a　part　of　it　all；　some　atom　in　that　vastness；　somehow　necessary　to　an　inscrutable　purpose；　something　indestructible　in　that　desolate　world　of　ruin　and　death　and　decay；　something　perishable　and　changeable　and　growing　under　all　the　fixity　of　heaven。　　In　that　endless；　silent　hall　of　desert　there　was　a　spirit；　and　Cameron　felt　hovering　near　him　what　he　imagined　to　be　phantoms　of　peace。
  He　returned　to　camp　and　sought　his　comrade。
  〃I　reckon　we're　two　of　a　kind；〃　he　said。　　〃It　was　a　woman　who　drove　me　into　the　desert。　　But　I　come　to　remember。　　The　desert's　the　only　place　I　can　to　that。〃
  〃Was　she　your　wife？〃　asked　the　elder　man。
  〃No。〃
  A　long　silence　ensued。　　A　cool　wind　blew　up　the　canyon；　sifting　the　sand　through　the　dry　sage；　driving　away　the　last　of　the　lingering　heat。　　The　campfire　wore　down　to　a　ruddy　ashen　heap。
  〃I　had　a　daughter；〃　said　Cameron's　comrade。　　〃She　lost　her　mother　at　birth。　　And　II　didn't　know　how　to　bring　up　a　girl。　　She　was　pretty　and　gay。　　It　was　thethe　old　story。〃
  His　words　were　peculiarly　significant　to　Cameron。　　They　distressed　him。　　He　had　been　wrapped　up　in　his　remorse。　　If　ever　in　the　past　he　had　thought　of　any　one　connected　with　the　girl　he　had　wronged　he　had　long　forgotten。　　But　the　consequences　of　such　wrong　were　far…reaching。　　They　struck　at　the　roots　of　a　home。　　Here　in　the　desert　he　was　confronted　by　the　spectacle　of　a　splendid　man；　a　father；　wasting　his　life　because　he　could　not　forgetbecause　there　was　nothing　left　to　live　for。　　Cameron　understood　better　now　why　his　comrade　was　drawn　by　the　desert。
  〃Well；　tell　me　more？〃　asked　Cameron；　earnestly。
  〃It　was　the　old；　old　story。　　My　girl　was　pretty　and　free。　　The　young　bucks　ran　after　her。　　I　guess　she　did　not　run　away