Marsh couldn't believe his eyes! He propped his head on his hand and stared at the rock for several minutes, and even tried viewing it from different angles to make sure his tired eyes weren't playing tricks with the shadows. It definitely looked like the head of a goat in the moonlight, but what would it look like the next morning? He decided not to tell anyone until he was sure. He tried to sleep, but he could only manage to doze now and then.
Marsh awoke to the marvelous fragrance of fresh-brewed coffee. He savored the wonderful aroma mingled with the scent of the campfire, and thought to himself that there was not a more pleasant smell on the face of the earth. He sat up as Molly handed him a cup of the brew, took a sip, and looked up toward the rock formation he had seen the night before. He saw that his eyes had not deceived him, but the large rock was farther away than he had thought.
As soon as everyone was awake enough Marsh called their attention to the huge stone which was now plainly visible. McAlister pulled the journal from under his shirt and opened it to the page with the crude drawings. He studied the sketch of the goat and looked again at the rock protruding from the side of a cliff off in the distance.
The sight had triggered a memory for Sourdough. He moved to find a twig and began to make a sort of map in the dirt, and as he drew he began to remember even more. It was clear what the representation of the tent in the journal meant now, but this camp was some distance away from Deadman's Trail. The rumors had always been that the gold was buried along the trail. And what of the other sketches? The places and things they suggested were on the other side! The group began to study the drawings again.
The black bird must signify Blackhawk Canyon, but they still couldn't decide about the horse. And what of the fire and cabin? Those could also signify a camp, but the drover's camp where they were now was the only one anybody knew about. It was then that Marsh said the marks he had seen along the trail were somewhere to the north of Blackhawk Canyon and west of Snake Bend. He couldn't remember exactly where he had seen the drawings, but it was only about two miles from the camp to where the trail would be north of Blackhawk Canyon. The group hurried to break camp, and to begin their search for more clues.
They reached the outcropping that Marsh had told them about back at the Serendipity. As soon as they found the area he was familiar with they began to look for the etchings he had seen on the rocks. They searched for half an hour, but they couldn't find anything. Tracinda asked him if he was sure of the location, and Marsh said he was. Frenchie, Molly, and the sheriff had moved farther up the path and were standing under an overhang when Sourdough shouted out for them to look up. McAlister stepped out from under the projection, raised his head and craned his neck. The three of them were standing directly under the ledge holding the stone they had seen from camp. The head of the goat was hanging over them, approximately a hundred feet up, and it looked ten times bigger than it had before.
All six of the treasure hunters let out a whoop, and Sourdough suddenly realized where they were. About fifty yards past where the boulder sat above the trail was the drop-off called Mare's Leap. They determined now what the drawing of the horse stood for, and set about looking even harder for the markings Marsh had seen.
McAlister wanted a closer look at the boulder and sought a way up to the ledge. It appeared to be a rough climb, but he thought he could manage to scale the rugged facade. He found a few crevices where he could get a firm grip, and started up the face of the cliff. It was more difficult than he had estimated, and his fingers were aching and skinned as he pulled himself onto the rock shelf.
The view was magnificent! He could see for miles! He hadn't understood how they could have seen the stone from camp until he realized that the trail had climbed probably two thousand feet or more from where they had started that morning. He looked back in the direction from which they had come and noticed a haze on the horizon. McAlister recognized that it was dust rising from the trail. The billowing cloud of dirt was being stirred by more than one rider, and he called out to the others as he scrambled to get down from the ledge.
Blackjack and his gang were coming up Deadman's Trail!
