By Louis L'Amour

Callaghen’s company is soldiering. For two decades he’d fought worldwide, from China to the deserts of California; now he’s a personal within the U.S. Cavalry, poorly paid, his enlistment approximately to expire. He’s able to circulation on…until he comes throughout a startling discovery: a treasure map belonging to a useless lieutenant who would possibly not were all that he appeared. The map issues tips on how to an underground river of gold…or does it? to determine, Callaghen should struggle the hardest battle of his existence: opposed to a fierce Indian warrior, a vindictive commanding officer, and a ruthless gang of outlaws who’ll flip what could be a river of gold right into a river of blood.

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CHAPTER 3 Despair gripped Callaghen for a moment. "Croker," he said, "get back there with your rifle. " "I do not think so," the Delaware said. " Callaghen sat down and carefully reloaded his pistol. As he did so he considered the situation. This basin was at the lowest point around. It lay at the end of a ridge of rocks where a spring might conceivably be, surrounded by mesquite and a healthy growth of salt grass. The place was a natural catch basin for water draining off the rocky ridges around it.

Croker, who had served with him for more than a year, had never known him to receive mail. He was really a loner. Many a man who joined the Indian-fighting army did so because he wished to disappear... and the rate of desertion was high. Now he continued to dig steadily. A foot... two feet. The hole was still dry, and he was gasping for breath. The heat, the lack of water, and the long exhausting march had taken their toll, but he went on digging. Finally the Delaware came and pushed him aside, and after that they took turns.

We can march," the lieutenant said. " They started, and no shots were fired. Callaghen looked toward the horizon. It was going to be a brutal day. A mile... two miles. Ahead of them lay an apparently wide-open area of sand and scattered brush. Occasionally they saw a Joshua tree stretching its weird twisted arms. Another mile... Every yard covered was to their advantage, but the Mohaves were out there, and the Mohaves knew how long it was since they had stopped at a waterhole, they knew how little water they must have left, and they would know about the wounded man.

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