The Night of the Voice of Doom

'Tis man himself makes his own god and his own hell.

—Philip James Bailey (1816-1902), English poet

Chapter 1

"Professor, I wish you would change your mind."

Professor Denis Hildebrand Roundtree glanced at the younger man beside him, then followed the gaze of those green eyes as they stared down the platform, to where the two young women were checking off the lists as supplies were unloaded from the train. He smiled.

"Mr. West, my daughters have accompanied me on numerous expeditions over the last twelve or so years. I believe you will find them as competent as any man in the field, if no more so, and certainly no hindrance to progress."

Jim West brought his gaze around to the husky, middle-aged man with the full graying beard. "Sir, it is not a worry about them being a hindrance, but more of the possible problems we may face. Rockslides, snow…"

"More perils than head hunters in the Amazon, or poisonous snakes in the jungles of Guatemala? The sands of the Sahara? Nonsense, Mr. West. Adelaide and Hildegarde are extremely capable. After their mother passed away when they were mere girls, I could not bear to leave them home alone so I started taking them with me on my expeditions, with the original intent of setting them up in a household in Rio de Janeiro or Cairo or wherever I was. However, I soon found they could accompany me on less arduous treks, which gradually led up to the full-blown expeditions. Of course, for many years that was only when they were not in school. Eventually the lengths of the treks overlapped the school terms."

Jim watched as the older of the two daughters, Hildegarde, crisply issued instructions to the men unloading the baggage from the car, apparently telling them to now start putting it onto a waiting wagon. From that wagon, the supplies would be packed onto the backs of the mules Artie was currently acquiring from a stable here in Denver.

The assignment was a very unusual one for the two Secret Service agents. No counterfeiters to chase down, no one posing a threat to the national government. Instead, they were to guide this professor of archeology in a search for a fabled "lost temple" high in the Rocky Mountains—a temple that the two agents may have inadvertently encountered several years ago.

The pursuit of three members of a counterfeiting gang had taken them deep into the mountains, into areas never officially explored. The long-ago legendary mountain men who lived and trapped in these areas had related tall tales of a city of stone buried deeply in the rocky cliffs, but those were passed off as mere campfire legends. However, one afternoon as the two agents attempted a shortcut that would allow them to get ahead of the fleeing criminals, they had spotted something quite strange in a deep canyon.

Far below them, against the canyon wall, was a formation that actually resembled a stone building of some type. Around the floor of the canyon were large piles of stone that had no shape at all. Without the time or means to descend and investigate, they had continued their quest of the counterfeiters, successfully capturing the trio and returning them to face justice. Although they had more than once considered looking for the canyon again, the opportunity had not arisen. They had, however, told Colonel James Richmond of the sighting during a casual conversation. At the time he was convinced they had seen rock formations.

Sometime later, within this last year, the colonel had attended a dinner party where he met Professor Roundtree and had mentioned the oddity his agents had spied. He had been surprised by the interest the professor displayed in the story, and even further astonished when Roundtree contacted him later for more information, asking to meet the agents in question. The next time West and Gordon were in Washington City, the meeting took place.

The professor's daughters were not present at that meeting, or at a subsequent one when Roundtree opened discussions regarding an expedition. He was certain that what they had sighted was associated with the legend of the fabulous riches of "Cibola," the famed Seven Cities of Gold sought by the Spanish explorer, Coronado. Artemus had pointed out that Cibola was reportedly located in New Mexico or even Kansas, not Colorado, but Roundtree waved that off.

"The mapping skills of the conquistadores were primitive at best. They really had no idea where they were, and it is my long-held theory that the priest, Friar Marcos de Niza, was much further north than the current boundaries of New Mexico Territory. I've done a great deal of study on Cibola, gentlemen, and I believe you may have seen its ruins."

Both agents had protested. What they had seen may have been merely a rock formation. The canyon had been very deep and dim, shaded from the sun by the walls. The professor was unfazed and asked them to draw a map. When Artemus, in particular, demurred, stating his memory of the route they took was blurred, Roundtree, somewhat reluctantly, asked them to accompany him as guides. When again Jim stated they might not be able to find the site, the professor was unconvinced.

"Oh, I'm sure you can. James Richmond told me you keep detailed records of your work. I have no doubt that once you get into the area, it will look familiar."

From there, the plans grew rapidly, almost too fast for the agents to keep up with. Roundtree even used the acquaintanceship his school's president had with the President of the United States to obtain the services of the two agents. Grant was not entirely convinced, but saw no harm in allowing his agents to make the trek. West and Gordon had been "excused" from their regular duties to assist Professor Roundtree.

Not until they met the scholar in Denver did they become aware that his two daughters would be accompanying them. Roundtree had already had his assistant, Estes Burton, arrange for pack mules, based on Artie's recommendation. Artemus had gone with Burton to check on those animals to make sure they would be available to be loaded tomorrow morning on schedule. Apparently, Burton had been with Roundtree for some time and had organized previous expeditions.

While admitting that the prospect of being among those who discovered the fabled "city of gold" was a thrilling prospect, Artemus had expressed reservations to Jim as they traveled west on the Wanderer. Yes, they had the records of that trek through the mountains but it had occurred almost half a dozen years prior, on one of their first jobs together for the department.

"What happens if we can't find it?" he had wondered. "Of course, the expedition is being paid for by Roundtree, out of his own pocket, so it's not as though government funds are being wasted, but…"

Jim had not had an answer to that. Roundtree was so persistent, so certain. How would he react if the agents were unable to retrace their steps? Professor Denis Roundtree was a world-renowned expert in archeology. Even Artemus had read one of his books about an Egyptian tomb the scholar had located. Neither liked to think they would be blamed for the failure. Nevertheless, the possibility was real that either they would not be able to find it, or if they did, the ruins would be simply piles of boulders.

Seeing Artemus emerge around the far corner of the building, Jim excused himself and strode toward him. Artie tipped his hat to the two young women as he walked by, and joined Jim a dozen feet beyond. "I take it Papa is determined to take the young ladies with us."

Jim grimaced. "Can't talk him out of it. He claims they are experienced. If they slow us up…"

"It's his fault. At least the mules are lined up. I suggested Felipe Estèves and Burton hired him and his animals. Felipe is the best man I know with mules." The agents were acquainted with Estèves from previous cases in the Denver area. "Burton apparently has the professor's complete confidence. He is a pretty hardheaded man, besides. He ran a strong bargain with Felipe, but in the end, it was fair. I made sure of that."

"Well, this whole thing should be interesting. Can't wait."

Artie chuckled at his partner's wry expression and tone. "It's going to be different, that's definite. Presumably we won't run into Loveless along the way."

"Don't count on it!"

"Mr. West, Mr. Gordon?"

Neither had noticed the approach of the elder Roundtree sister, Hildegarde. She was around twenty-four or twenty-five, Jim judged, and attractive, even though she wore gold-rimmed glasses perched on a nicely shaped nose. She reminded him a great deal of Dr. Abigail Pringle, except he was certain that Hildegarde needed her glasses. Like her sister, she had shiny dark hair done up neatly in a bun. Her garb was rather plain, more serviceable than fashionable.

"Miss Roundtree," Artemus smiled. "Can we help you?"

"I wanted to give you the list of supplies we brought." She held out a piece of paper. "You are more familiar with the landscape and climate of this area than Father or Estes Burton and perhaps you can assure that we have the proper items—and enough of them."

Artie accepted the sheet. "I'll be glad to look it over. Mr. Burton found horses for you, your sister, and your father. He seemed to think they'd be suitable."

Her nose wrinkled briefly. "I'm sure. Gentlemen."

Jim watched her rejoin her sister and the two of them then walked to where their father was talking to the stationmaster. "She doesn't seem to approve of Burton."

"Or else his taste in horseflesh. Well, James, what say we go find a cold beer and review this list?"

They started toward the exit from the rail yards, but were hailed again, this time by Miss Roundtree's father. He invited them to dinner that evening at the hotel. "A chance for us to relax and get better acquainted," he pointed out. The two agents could but agree. Except for the meetings in Washington—which had been very businesslike—they had not really talked to the professor, and certainly not to his daughters.

W*W*W*W*W

Nemini fidas, nisi cum quo prius multos modios salis absumpseris.

[Trust no one unless you have eaten much salt with him.]

—De Amicitia (19, 67), Cicero (Marcus Tullius "Tully" Cicero; 106-43 BC) Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator

Professor Roundtree and his two daughters were already seated when Jim and Artie entered the hotel dining room promptly at seven that evening. Roundtree stood up to greet them and point out the chairs opposite his two daughters at the rectangular table, while he occupied the chair at the "head." Wine had already been ordered and their host filled their glasses from the bottle on the table. Artemus recognized the fine vintage described on the label.

"I suggest," the professor pronounced, lifting his own glass, "we begin this evening with a toast. To a successful venture!"

They drank and as he lowered his glass, Jim spoke. "I hope you keep in mind, Professor, that Mr. Gordon and I, firstly, cannot guarantee we will be able to find the site again, and secondly, even if ruins do exist, they are probably not Cibola."

"I know," Roundtree beamed. "You pointed that out to me at our first meeting. Nonetheless, my research indicates that these ruins could indeed be the lost city of legend. They deserve to be discovered and explored, in any case."

"You are probably right," Artie concurred as the waiter stepped up to present menus. "But we have more important matters to deal with now… choosing our meals!"

The two young ladies laughed as they opened their menus. They were not, Jim decided, the type to sit back and allow their father to order for them. Both were garbed far more stylishly than they had been at the rail yard earlier, Hildegarde in soft blue and Adelaide in lavender. The gowns were not overly ornate, but well made and well fitting, probably handmade for them. Adelaide had softened her hairstyle by pulling out a few curls that rested on her forehead, but Hildegarde's hair was still in the sleek chignon.

After the waiter returned to take their requests, Artemus smiled toward the sisters. "We looked over your supply list, and I have to say, you were thorough. In fact, you probably have enough foodstuffs to feed twice our number!"

The professor spoke up before either of his daughters could. "Oh, I must apologize. I suspect you have not been informed that, indeed, our number will be nearly doubled. Mr. Burton has hired four men to accompany us."

The two agents looked at each other. "Four?" Jim echoed. "Why?" He had expected one or possibly two more, but four?

"We are going into dangerous country. I felt the added protection was needed for my daughters."

Artie did not glance at the women, but at the corner of his eye, he saw them similarly exchange a glance. They surely had known about the extra men, but perhaps not their father's reasoning. "The country is not that perilous," he said. "No hostile Indians, if that is what you are thinking."

Roundtree's smile was patient. "Gentlemen, I have learned over the years to always be prepared. I have entered 'safe' areas previously only to encounter bands of thieves, even cannibals. I certainly trust you and Mr. West to do your best, but I will feel better, especially where my daughters are concerned, if our numbers were greater."

"I understand," Jim said mildly. "Do you mind if I ask where these extra men were found? Are they men you are acquainted with?"

"I have not met them yet. Mr. Burton is in charge of such things. He is an excellent judge of character. I trust him to bring in exactly the type of men I need."

Again, Artie caught the professor's daughters exchanging a surreptitious glance. He recalled their reaction regarding Burton selecting proper horses for them. Could well be the Misses Roundtree are not as confident of Mr. Burton as their father is. He could only wonder why Roundtree never mentioned the need for more men. Because he feared Jim and I would take it upon ourselves to hire them? That did not make a lot of sense. What difference would it make?

Their soups were served and the conversation switched to other subjects. Artemus asked Hildegarde and Adelaide where they attended school, and was not surprised they were students at the same university where their father taught. The unexpected aspect was that neither was studying archeology, their father's specialty. The elder daughter said her major was animal husbandry, while Adelaide's was literature. She hoped to become a schoolteacher she said.

Hearing this, Jim wondered if the girls were willing participants in their father's expeditions. As the dinner progressed, the subject of travel came up and he saw nothing to indicate they had not enjoyed their travels with the professor. They had spent some time in Europe; because the agents had as well the topic was one they could easily chat about.

While they were awaiting the arrival of the dessert, Adelaide, whom Artemus noticed her sister addressed as Addie, looked at him. "Mr. Gordon, is it true that you are betrothed to the actress, Miss Lily Fortune?"

Artie smiled. "I am indeed that fortunate man."

"She's such a wonderful actress," Hildegarde, or Hilde, put in. "And beautiful. We saw her twice on stage, once in Washington, and two years ago when we were in London."

"I can only agree wholeheartedly," Artie responded with a big grin.

When the desserts arrived, along with fresh coffee, the conversation turned to the subject of tomorrow's schedule. The plan was to rise early, pack the mules, and with any luck, be on their way well before noon. The agents had estimated that, with the slowness of the laden mules, the trek to the area they remembered would consume most of a week, if not longer, providing the weather and other factors cooperated.

"You don't think we can travel any faster than that?" Roundtree inquired, looking at Jim.

Jim shook his head. "I doubt it. Mules will be faster than burros, but they will still each be carrying a heavy load. We don't want to wear them out before we get halfway there."

"I suppose not. Well, the ruins have been there this long. I suppose another week won't matter."

W*W*W*W*W

Plerumquehominesnonviderepossunt, quam quid fatigo magisvalent.

[As a rule, men worry more about what they can't see than about what they can.]

—Gaius Julius Caesar (100-44 BC), Roman general, statesman, writer, and orator

"Jim, what do you think about the professor bringing in four more men?"

Jim looked across at his partner, riding alongside him in the darkened streets. "Well… I guess it is his expedition. I wish he would have mentioned it before."

"Yeah. I would have preferred to hire men we know, and can trust. That's not saying Burton did not find good men. He did hire Felipe."

"On your recommendation, and urging."

"True. However, I didn't notice any real reluctance. So far, Burton seems all right to me. Just have to wonder where the professor got the worry about being attacked. That is the only reason I can think of for him believing he needed more men. I almost told him that if the mules were not carrying the extra supplies, they could move faster."

Jim chuckled. "Right. We are probably being worrywarts, Artie. Only…"

Artie sighed. "I know. Things aren't always what they appear to be, right?"

Now Jim laughed aloud. "Right. Let's get to the train, pal. Morning is going to come much too soon."

W*W*W*W*W

En todos los asuntos, antes de comenzar, se debe hacer una preparacióndiligente.

[In all matters, before beginning, a diligent preparation should be made.]

—De Officiis (I, 21), Cicero (Marcus Tullius "Tully" Cicero; 106-43 BC) Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator

The golden sun was just edging over the western mountains when the two agents dismounted at the livery stable where the mules were boarded, and where the wagonload of supplies waited. They could see lanterns glowing through the dusty window and the cracks in the door. When they entered, they were bemused and amused to find Hildegarde and Adelaide Roundtree loading the packs onto the mules.

The two young women were wearing split riding skirts, Hilde's of suede and Addie's denim. Both had on strong, serviceable boots, and Jim noticed a pair of wide-brimmed hats resting on a nearby feedbox. When Artie asked about Felipe Estèves, Addie led him toward a door near the far side.

"Where's your father this morning?" Jim asked Hilde. From an open crate, he started passing rashers of bacon to her, which she efficiently stowed in a canvas bag. He was wearing Levis and a blue flannel shirt, knowing, as the sisters did, that the trek into the mountains was a time for robust clothing; Artie was also in Levis, but a brown plaid shirt. Both had packed heavier jackets in their saddlebags.

"He and Burton are meeting with the new men." She glanced at him. "I suggested that you and Mr. Gordon should be included, but he said that wasn't necessary."

"Does your father always hire extra crew in the location he's investigating?"

"Not always. Only when he suspects difficulty might occur." Hilde turned to face him. "For one thing, he thinks Indians may attack us for approaching a sacred site."

Frowning, Jim shook his head. "In the first place, very few Indians live in this part of Colorado anymore. Secondly, I am acquainted with the native tribes and I never heard them speak of a 'lost city' or any kind of sacred site in this area. In fact, that's one of the reasons Mr. Gordon and I are skeptical that what we saw was anything other than either a pile of boulders or some insignificant structure."

Now Hilde smiled. "We have accompanied Father on a number of expeditions, as you undoubtedly know. More than one was launched in the face of skepticism, only to be quite successful. I have to admit I'm more dubious about this one than any other."

"How old were you the first time you joined him on a trek?"

"I was twelve, Addie was eight. We went to look for some tombs outside of Luxor, Egypt. We went primarily during the summers those early years because we were in school, but a few times, Father took us during the term and we probably learned much more than we would in a classroom."

"I don't doubt that. Why is it neither you nor your sister chose his specialty?" He lifted the completed bundle to the back of the patient mule.

Hilde shook her head as she started to tighten the straps of the pack on the mule. "I really don't know. I have always loved animals, but with our constant travel, it was not… convenient or practical to have a pet. And… I want to have a stable home."

"Does your father know that?" Jim stepped to help her with the straps.

"He knows about the animal part. He was disappointed when I did not major in archeology but he did not try to talk me out of it. The same with Addie and literature. As you will learn, one of the packs will contain several books that she'll read on the trek."

Jim laughed. "She and Artemus will get along fine. Actually, I like to read too, when we have quiet times."

"Señor Jim!"

Jim turned to greet the stocky Mexican man who was striding ahead of Artie and Addie. "Hello, Felipe. It is good to see you! I'm glad you're going to be with us."

"¡Sí! This is very exciting, no?"

"Felipe, have you ever heard of the supposed City of Gold here in Colorado?"

"Oh, stories. Just stories. Legends. I never believed they were anything but legends."

"As Father said, some legends turn out to be true," Addie pointed out. "I hope this one does. He has invested so much of his time, energy… and money!"

"I guess the only way we'll find out," Artie nodded, "is going up there. We…"

He paused at the sound of voices outside the half open door. Professor Roundtree entered, followed by Burton and four other men. Jim glanced at his partner and knew Artie was sharing his thoughts. Three of the men were exactly as expected: obvious gun toughs. The fourth was quite a bit younger, certainly not thirty yet and possibly closer to twenty-five. He was a slender man with ash blond hair and in the dim light of the stable, his eyes appeared dark blue.

"Mr. Gordon, Mr. West, good morning. Looks like we have a beautiful day to get started! Estèves, these men will assist you in loading the supplies. Get to it." Roundtree jerked his head to the additional men. Three scowled but moved forward to follow Felipe—behind the youngest man who stepped off eagerly.

"Good morning, Professor," Artie greeted. Burton had lingered and was standing just behind the professor, making no move to help with the work.

Addie put a hand on her father's arm and spoke quietly and a little anxiously. "Father, those men…"

He patted her hand. "They are exactly what we need for this type of expedition, dear. Isn't that right, Mr. West?"

Jim hesitated. "It's entirely up to you, sir. This is your expedition." He felt, rather than saw, Artie's glance his way. What else can I say? Roundtree is paying the money. He didn't ask for my opinion before hiring them.

"Indeed it is," Roundtree chuckled. "I'm very anxious to get on the way. So let's all pitch in and get these mules ready to go."

W*W*W*W*W

As often happens in such cases, little problems occurred, such as the strap of a mule's pack breaking and needing to be replaced, as well as the fact that three of the newly hired men did not know anything about packing a mule. The two young women and the youngest of the quartet employed by Roundtree had to take time to show them, redoing what had been done, or not done.

In listening to conversation as they worked, Artemus learned that the young man's name was Dan Sellers. He seemed to know quite a bit about animals, even mules, and he discussed the condition of the animals with their owner, Felipe Estèves. Artie could only wonder how he became mixed up with the other three.

Those three, he came to realize, were named Turk, Cates, and Ace. Turk Lorimer was the oldest of them, perhaps forty or more, with a little gray in his thick dark hair and equally thick mustache that shadowed his mouth and hid any smile or scowl the lips might be forming. The size of his jutting belly indicated a fondness of beer. Which he is not going to be getting any of the next couple of weeks!

Alban Cates was younger, in his mid to late thirties, with a pock-scarred face and thinning reddish hair. His body seemed malformed, with very long legs but a short torso. He walked with hunched shoulders and lowered head, causing him to have to "look up" with his eyes. He also seemed to possess a perpetual scowl and responded in monosyllables when spoken to.

Ace Wiley was around the same age as Cates, possibly a year or two younger. He was better looking than either Turk or Cates but, in Artie's opinion, nowhere near handsome, although he apparently thought he was. His face was long and narrow, chin coming to a point and projecting out somewhat. The complexion was dark but Artie did not think he was of Indian or Latino descent. Of the three, his clothes were the finest, a blue shirt and yellow silk kerchief tied around his long, thin neck. He also wore boots that obviously had been handmade and designed, with silver spurs that jangled. His gun had a pearlescent handle and Artie could see the silver metal that gleamed from the decorated holster and belt.

Thus, the packing consumed more time than expected. Roundtree was annoyed, but he told everyone to go get a midday meal and meet back at the stable in an hour. Jim saw Ace, Turk, and Cates head for the nearest saloon, where no doubt a meal of cold cuts would be available—including alcohol. The professor and his daughters, along with Estes Burton, hailed a hack to return to the hotel restaurant, or some other finer place than existed in this neighborhood.

Jim and Artemus invited Felipe to join them, but he said he would rather go to his home to spend a little more time with his family before leaving. They entered a nearby café, and were just seating themselves when Dan Sellers entered. He did not appear to see them, going toward the counter, but Artie called out. Sellers hesitated then joined them.

"Thank you," he said, taking a chair.

"Thought you might have gone with your friends," Artie smiled.

"Well, they aren't exactly my friends. I never met them before last night."

"When you were hired?" Jim inquired.

"Yeah. Actually another man who was a friend of theirs had been hired, but he apparently got into trouble with the law and is now in the City Jail. I just happened to be nearby when Mr. Burton came to tell them the professor wanted to see them first thing in the morning. He was pretty annoyed when he found out what happened to the fourth man. I was sitting nearby, listening, and I offered my services. Luckily, I was accepted. I guess they were pretty desperate by that time." Sellers grinned briefly.

"Work hard to find?"

Sellers glanced at Artie. "Yeah, especially when I don't know how to do anything!" His expression was wry.

The waitress's arrival to take their orders halted conversation for a few minutes. When she departed, Jim asked, "What are you doing here in Denver, if I'm not being too nosy?"

"No, it's all right. I'm trying to earn money to get myself home to Pennsylvania. That's why this job is a godsend—even if I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Looked to me you know your way around mules."

"Well, I grew up on a farm in the first place, outside of Harrisburg. I went to college to study to be a veterinarian."

"What happened?" Artie asked. He thought this young man wanted to talk.

"Well, my father didn't want me to go to college in the first place. He expected me and my two older brothers to be happy to inherit the farm. I knew a long time ago I didn't want to be a farmer. Dad's farm is decent size, but divided between three of us, the parcels aren't going to be very large. Besides which, I just don't feel cut out to be a farmer. I always preferred to work with the animals rather than plowing fields. When I decided to go to school, Dad refused to help me. Therefore, it took me longer than four years to graduate, because I had to work to pay for it. But I did graduate."

"Good for you," Jim commented, remembering his own interrupted university time. "You didn't set up practice at home?"

"No. By then Mom was gone and Dad and I just were not getting along. I figured to come west and get started here. However, I didn't have any equipment and no money to buy anything. I also haven't found another vet willing to take me in, either. So… well, I wrote Dad and said I was coming home. I didn't know what to expect but he wrote back saying I was welcome, but times had been hard because of a drought and he didn't have any money to send me."

"I'm thinking Professor Roundtree's pay will help quite a bit," Artie smiled.

"It will! It ought to get me home at least. Dad also said that the local long-time veterinarian is planning to retire in a couple of years, and he's willing to take me on, if I get there in a reasonable time."

The meals were served and the three continued to converse, learning more about Dan's family and plans. Both liked the young man and were glad to realize he was not the type of men that usually hung out with men like Turk, Cates, and Ace. As their desserts were served, it seemed Dan wanted to talk about something else.

"I surely was surprised to realize the professor's daughters will be coming along. Miss Hilde said they always go on exploring trips with their father."

"That's what we were told," Artie nodded, pouring cream over his warm apple cobbler. "Very unusual young ladies. They seem very capable. Did you know," he added idly, "that Miss Hildegard studied animal husbandry?"

The young man's blue eyes widened. "Is that right?" He looked toward the front window for a long moment, almost as if expecting to see the young woman materialize there. "That's amazing!"

Finishing the meal, the three returned to the stable. Felipe, with the help of his twelve-year-old son Armando, had the mules in the street, lined up, tethered to each other, and ready to go. He was in the midst of saddling the horses to be used by the members of the expedition. Dan pitched in to assist, as did the two agents, and by the time the professor, his daughters and assistant, as well as the three new employees, returned, it was simply a matter of mounting up.

Jim noticed that Estes Burton moved his bay gelding to the head of the line, in front of the professor and his daughters. He and Artemus rode up to position themselves in front of Burton. Artie glanced around and the foreman merely nodded.

At least it appears that is not going to be a problem. Artie thought about the papers in his saddlebag. He had drawn a rough map of the route that he and Jim believed they followed during that chase. It was quite a while ago.

They had done their best to impress upon Professor Roundtree how high the chances of failure were. The academician had been unperturbed. His own research had convinced him that at least one of the Seven Cities of Cibola had a good chance of being located in this area. The sighting the agents had experienced was the only one that had been reported. He simply knew this was part of the golden city of legend.

Felipe hugged and kissed his son, admonishing him to be a good boy and take care of his mother and sisters. He then mounted his sturdy pinto, taking up the rope that was attached to the lead mule. Jim waved a hand, and touched his heels to the flanks of his shiny black horse. The expedition was off.

For good or ill, Artie mused. Like his partner, he had this sense of something amiss, and like Jim, he did not know what it was. Although the three toughs were not the type of men the agents might have preferred, they had to remember that Roundtree had not done much work in this part of the country. The more exotic locales in the Middle East and South America were his expertise. Certainly, he had heard stories of the "wild Indians" here in the west and wanted to be sure his daughters were protected.

I can't fault him for that. Nonetheless, he could have consulted with us before made this move. I just have a sense that three of the four men are going to be more trouble than the professor anticipates.