Between the fence and the red wall there was a wide bare plain which
stretched to the house. At its farthest end was a green enclosure, which
Hare recognized as the cemetery mentioned by Snap. Hare counted thirty
graves, a few with crude monuments of stone, the others marked by wooden
head-pieces.
"I've the reputation of doctoring the women, and letting the men die,"
said Naab, with a smile. "I hardly think it's fair. But the fact is no
women are buried here. Some graves are of men I fished out of the river;
others of those who drifted here, and who were killed or died keeping
their secrets. I've numbered those unknown graves and have kept a
description of the men, so, if the chance ever comes, I may tell some one
where a father or brother lies buried. Five sons of mine, not one of
whom died a natural death, found graves here--God rest them! Here's the
grave of Mescal's father, a Spaniard. He was an adventurer. I helped
him over in Nevada when he was ill; he came here with me, got well, and
lived nine years, and he died without speaking one word of himself or
telling his name."
"What strange ends men come to!" mused Hare.
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