The captain was surprised.  "You know the Major?" he asked.

"Yes, sir.  We met briefly on several occasions.  He's one of those who believe we Irish are second-class citizens.  I understand that before the war he operated a business where he had a sign: NO IRISH NEED APPLY."

"I have heard something to that effect.  Well, we will hope that your papers come through before he arrives."

"We Irish are used to it, Captain Hill.  We had it in Ireland for years, from the British.  The Catholic Irish were allowed no schools of their own.  For many years no Irish craftsman was allowed an apprentice.  Priests had to go into hiding, or leave the country entirely.  It was very rough."

"And you?"

"I left, sir.  I came over here for a while - tried prospecting in California."

Hill glanced at him quickly.  "You did?  You know something about minerals, then?"

"A little.  Most of that I learned in Asia, later."

"You should spend some time in the desert.  There are all sorts of rumors, Callaghen.  Some say there are vast deposits of gold and silver right here in the Mohave."

His voice lowered a little.  "Have you heard of the River of Gold?  They say it runs through a cave under the desert."

Callaghen shrugged.  "There are always those stories, sir.  You know when the Moslems conquered all of North Africa in the eighth century the Christians disappeared.  Of course, most of them were converted to Mohammedanism very suddenly.  It was the only thing to do if one wanted to survive.  But some were killed, and some left the country... in any event, they vanished.

"As a result, there are strange stories that come out of the Sahara.  Mysterious sounds are heard in the desert at night.  The Berbers and the Tuaregs say the sounds come from cities under the ground, and in those cities the Christians are hiding until the right time comes for them to return."

Captain Hill chuckled.  "They'll wait a long time, I'm thinking.  Nonetheless, Callaghen, if I were a younger man and getting out of the army, I might give a little thought to the matter.  You know, some of these desert rivers have gone underground, so why couldn't it be that they had hollowed out caves there?  And if there were gold in the rock...?"

Several days passed in routine duty.  On more than one occasion Captain Hill detailed three-man patrols to scout the country around, and each time they saw Indians.  Twice they were fired on and returned the fire, but with no visible results on either side.  Every day they scanned the road, hoping for the promised relief.  The horses and mules were taken each morning to the sparse pasture, and guarded carefully.  Several times Mohaves were seen in the proximity of the camp.

Twice trains of freight wagons went through, bound for the Colorado.  The freighters were tough men, desert-seasoned and well-armed, yet on each occasion they lost horses to the Indians, and once a man was wounded.  A prospector was killed within a few miles of La Paz.

Adobe buildings had at one time been built on the present campsite, but as the army had maintained no permanent station there, they had been allowed to fall into ruin.  Sudden floods had damaged some of them; in others the hastily made roofs were in need of repair.  During the hottest weather the men preferred the brush shelters where a breeze could blow through.