He hoisted his pack and started heavily down into the valley that separated him from the next range. It was a good two miles of tooth and nail climbing and the canyon was filled with afternoon shadows when Roger reached the foot-wall of the east range. The heat was almost intolerable.
As he paused here, far above his head a donkey brayed. Roger started quickly upward and for an hour was led by the brayings that grew louder as he neared the top. As he crawled around the last brown rock heap that crowned the ridge, he almost stepped on a man beside whom stood a little gray burro.
"Peter!" said Roger. Then, "I say, Von Minden!"
He stooped over the quiet form at his feet. The little German was lying on his face, his iron-gray head resting on his arm. His blue overalls and faded red sweater were covered with a light sifting of dust. His pack lay beside him, unopened.
Roger turned him over, and as he did so Peter backed off. Von Minden was dead. He had been dead a long time Roger thought, as shuddering, he looked down on the bearded, distorted face. Roger took off his own pack and went over the body carefully. There was no sign whatever of any violence. He made a careful survey of the immediate surroundings, but there was no trace of Mrs. von Minden to be found.
Peter watched Roger's every move, moving his long ears back and forth enquiringly.
There was nothing whatever in Von Minden's pockets, except a jack knife. There was neither food in his pack nor water in his canteen. The one sack contained only a few ore samples. The dispatch box was not to be found.
It was impossible to dig a grave on that peak of solid rock. Moreover, Roger had an idea that the authorities--if there were authorities in the desert world--ought to find the body as he had found it. He cut down several of the stunted cedars and piled them over the pathetic heap, under the blanket. On these he heaped stones, as heavy as he could lift until he felt sure that neither coyote, nor yet the buzzards that circled meditatively above could disturb the mound.
The sun was setting when he had finished.
"There Peter," said he, "you did your bit, keeping the beasts away. And now I've done mine, so we'll move on."
Roger stood for a moment looking from Peter to the mound, then at the wide sweep of the ranges about. The whole world was spread before him in utter silence; range beyond range, desert beyond desert into a violet distance so great that the fancy staggered in contemplating it. For the first time a feeling of utter desolation swept over Roger.