by B. TRAVEN
“Bring them in,” Howard invited him. “Room enough; no storage charged.”
When the three partners were alone in the tent, Curtin said: “I still can’t see what is wrong about that guy. Sometimes he seems perfectly all right, and then again he seems to be all nuts.”
“Poor feller, he is,” Howard said. “He’s cracked somehow. He hasn’t got all his screws tight. That much is sure. I think he is an eternal.”
“An eternal? What do you mean?” Curtin was curious.
“An eternal prospector. He can stay for ten years at the same place digging and digging, convinced that he is on the right spot and that there can be no mistake about it and that all he needs is patience. He is sure that some day he will make the big hit. He is of the same family as were men in bygone centuries who spent their whole lives and all their money trying to find the formula for producing gold by mixing metals and chemicals—smelting them, cooking them, and brewing them until they themselves turned insane. He is the more modern sort. He is working day in and day out over plans and schemes just as men do who want to bust the banks in a gambling-resort.”
“Tomorrow he will see our mine,” Dobbs said.
“Let him. It doesn’t matter, since we are leaving. We close it properly, and if he should open it again, that’s his affair, not ours. I really feel sorry for that guy.” Howard admitted this. “Really sorry for him. But you can’t cure these fellers, and I suppose if somebody could cure them they wouldn’t like it. They prefer to stay this way. It’s their whole excuse for being alive.”
Dobbs was not fully convinced. He said: “I’m not sure there isn’t something else behind that guy. He doesn’t seem to be all cracked up.”
Howard waved his hands and shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ve met this sort before. Good night.”
15
Another week of labor was put in by the partners, during which they worked up all the piles of dirt and rocks which had been ready to be washed. It proved worth while to get out of these piles all they contained. It was good pay. But nevertheless they stuck by their decision to give up. So they began breaking down the mine.
While doing so, Dobbs cut his hand and yelled angrily: “For what hellish reason of yours do we have to work like hunks in a steel-mill to level this field? Just tell me, old man.”
“We decided upon that the day we started to work here,” Howard answered, “didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did. But I say it’s a waste of time, that’s what I think.”
“The Lord might have said it’s only a waste of time to build this earth, if it was He who actually did it. I figure we should be thankful to the mountain which has rewarded our labor so generously. So we shouldn’t leave this place as careless picnic parties and dirty motorists so often do. We have wounded this mountain and I think it is our duty to close its wounds. The silent beauty of this place deserves our respect. Besides, I want to think of this place the way we found it and not as it has been while we were taking away its treasures, which this same mountain has guarded for millions of years. I couldn’t sleep well thinking I had left the mountain looking like a junk-yard. I’m sorry we can’t do this restoration perfectly—that we can do no better than show our good intention and our gratitude. If you two guys won’t help me, I’ll do it all alone, but I shall do it just the same.”
Curtin laughed. “The way you talk about a mountain as a personality is funny. Anyway, count me in. I’m with you. You should sweep a cabin when leaving it after it has sheltered you for the night. All right with me. Let’s tackle the job.”
“I have still another reason,” Howard explained, “a reason which is less sentimental, and I suppose this is a reason which will appeal to you, Dobbs, in particular. It’s this. Suppose after we have left, somebody comes up, looks around, and touches the right button. What then? We’ll have a dozen god-damned bandits after us inside of a few hours, to catch up with us and ease us of our lives and our income. Well, Dobbs, better level this part off and make it look like a flower-garden. Don’t always think of your pay. There may be good pay in it anyhow, even if we don’t see it right now.”
“All right, I’ll do what I can, but leave me alone; I’m no gardener.” He was reconciled, Dobbs was, only he didn’t want to show it for fear Curtin might poke fun at him.
2
Lunch was as usual. A kettle of tea, a leathery pancake, and a piece of dried meat which needed constant chewing. Lunch over, a pipe or two, and they were at work again. Daylight had to be used from the first ray to the last. Days in the tropics, even in midsummer, are not long—only slightly longer than the nights. Breakfast had to be over when the first rays of the sun shot above the horizon, and the mine was never left before dark had fallen. Only so had it been possible for the partners to do much work, interrupted as they often were by tropical cloudbursts, when for hours the whole plateau would become a lake.
“It sure has been the hardest job I ever had,” Curtin said when they were sitting by the fire smoking and reflecting on their life during the last months.
“Doubtless it was hard work,” Howard admitted. “But I’m positive that none of us in all his life ever made as good wages as we have made here.”
“Maybe.” This from Dobbs. “Yes, maybe. Only I think it might be better——”
“Better what?” Curtin asked, afraid that Dobbs might again bring up the question of staying for a few months more.
“Oh, nothing. Forget it.” Dobbs tried to shake off certain thoughts which apparently were troubling his mind.
“Yes, we’ve got our pay.” Howard spoke as though he had not listened to what the other two had said to each other. “We’ve got the money. That’s perfectly all right. But I figure as long as it isn’t in the bank, or at least in a civilized town, we can hardly call it our own. We have a hellish long way before us and a tough job still before we have everything safely at the nearest depot. That worries me a lot.”
Neither Dobbs nor Curtin said anything. They knocked their pipes out and all went back to work.
3
The derricks, stages, and wheels were finally broken and set fire to, so as to leave no trace of their machinery. Then they covered the charred timber with earth. After this was done they dug shrubs from the woods and planted them here.
Howard had a good reason for doing everything so carefully. “Suppose one of you guys gambles his earnings away or loses them some other way, he may return, and he can still make his living here. So let’s hide the place as well as we can to keep it safe for any one of us who might be in need.”
Within two days the partners had changed the mine so much that a few weeks later it would have been very difficult to discover that it had formerly been a working-place.
Lacaud, out during these days looking over the surroundings, came back to the camp only at night. He did not ask where the partners were working nor where the mine was. He was not interested in knowing the location. It was his idea that wherever their mine was, it must be the wrong place and not worth exploring. Because the partners had not found the lode after so many months of hard work he would not touch the mine even should he come upon it. If those fellows had not found the real mother vein near their mine, he would not try there, for to him it was proof that this was not the place he was after. He would not lose his time and labor investigating even the surroundings of their mine.
“Did you find your lode today?” Dobbs asked when he came to the camp.
“Not yet,” Lacaud answered. “Somehow I have the feeling that I have never been so close to it as I was this afternoon.”
“You have my blessing and don’t you get tired out before you find the right spot.”
“Don’t you worry, I won’t.” Lacaud’s confidence could not be shaken so easily.
“You’re invited to dinner, Laky,” Howard said in a very friendly tone. “Leave your cooking alone. You’ll need your grub.”
“Thanks, partner.”
4
That night the
three partners felt like factory workers on Saturday evening. Tomorrow they would plant more shrubs and saplings on the mining field and destroy the narrow path leading to the mine so that the shrubs might have time to root and grow and make the plateau appear as untouched a wilderness as it was when it was discovered.
This work would take the whole day, but it would be a joyful day like a Sunday spent working in your own garden. Then they would rest comfortably and the day after they would prepare the packs and get the whole pack-train ready so that they might leave two days later.
It was a jolly evening they spent, and for the first time they felt growing among them a bond which came very close to real friendship. So far they had never been friends or comrades, only business partners without any common interest other than their work.
During these long months they had had no papers or books to enrich their thinking or their vocabulary. Always overtired, they had shortened their speech to such a point that Lacaud sometimes failed to understand what the three partners were talking about. Pick-axes, spades, water, dirt, rocks, burros, food, gold, clothing, the parts of their primitive machinery, and all details of their work were referred to by signals, often merely single letters, which only they themselves understood. They could talk to each other for half an hour without an outsider knowing what they said. They themselves did not realize that their speech had changed to such primitiveness, for only by living in larger groups can man compare his speech with that used by others. Only when Lacaud did not grasp their talk in full and had to ask over and over again did they realize that they had acquired a lingo of their own which was incomprehensible to outsiders.
5
The mine was leveled to the satisfaction of Howard. Anybody now coming upon the mine by chance would never think that a mine had been worked here, or if at all, not during the last hundred years.
“Doesn’t it give you guys a real joy to look at the place now?” Howard asked with pride in his voice.
“All right,” Dobbs said, “you have it your way and you feel happy, so please, for the love of Mike’s booze, leave us in peace with your feelings. Sometimes I think you must have been a preacher, only the hell of it is I can’t figure what church it was you wanted to catch birds for.”
That night Howard said: “Something very important is really worrying me. I’ve been thinking things over, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it won’t be so damn easy to get our goods safely to town.”
“Just what do you mean?” Curtin asked.
“The trip has its damn hazards.”
“Oh, we know that. Tell us a better one.” Dobbs was impatient at hearing what he thought was an old story.
“Don’t you get nervous, Dobby. This trip will be different from the one that brought us here. Likely it will be the most difficult one you ever made in all your life. There may be bandits. There may be accidents. All sorts of accidents can happen on these dreadful trails across the Sierra. The police might pass our way and be a little bit too curious about what we’re carrying in our packs. We’ve worked hard here, if any devils ever worked hard. But I tell you guys, as long as we haven’t got the whole cinnamon safely stowed away inside the strong boxes of a good bank, it isn’t ours. I just wanted to mention this to make you understand you are not rich yet.”
Lacaud came to the fire. For a long while he sat staring into the fire without saying a word. Then, as if coming out of a long dream, he said: “And I’m sure it must be around here somewhere.”
“Sure,” Howard said smiling. “But leave your worries for another day. Help yourself to a good dinner. It’s all waiting for you.” Then to Dobbs: “Hey, cook, what about the coffee?”
“Yes, ma’m, coming.” Dobbs pushed the coffee over to the old man.
16
“As I have said to you guys several times, to bring everything safely home and have it credited to your account isn’t quite so easy as wading in clay and having water at hand to wash your feet afterwards.” Howard was taking up this problem once more. It seemed that he could think of nothing else, and to him this problem had become really acute since they had decided to close the mine and leave for the port. He simply couldn’t free his mind from the difficulties which he foresaw would be theirs on the march.
He went on: “Did you ever hear the story about that treasure-burdened woman, the most honorable and distinguished doña Catalina María de Rodríguez? I’m sure you haven’t, because there aren’t many people in this world who have. I mean, of course, the true story. With her it was not the question of how to get the gold and silver, but how to get it home, where it would have done her the most good. Gold is of no use to anybody as long as it is not where he wants it.
“It seems that in the Villa de Guadalupe there is an image of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe—that is, Our Lady of Guadalupe, the holy patroness of Mexico and all the Mexicans. The little town is a suburb of Mexico City and can be reached from that city by street-car. To the Mexicans and the Indians of Mexico this image is of great importance, because whoever is in trouble or pain undertakes a pilgrimage to that shrine feeling sure that the Holy Virgin will help him out of his worries, whatever they are. Our Lady of Guadalupe has a very great heart and she understands fully the depths of the human soul. She is even supposed to help a peasant to a piece of land which belongs to his neighbor and to help a girl out of the natural consequences of a wrong step. Anyway, the Mexicans know how to use her to their benefit, and so do the holy persons who take care of the lady and are in charge of everything, including collecting the fees.”
“That’s all superstition. To hell with all those people who coin money out of the superstitions of the ignorant!” Curtin interrupted the tale.
“I wonder,” Howard said. “You have to believe, and then it will help you. It’s the same with the Lord. If you believe in the Lord, then there is a Lord for you; if you don’t believe in Him, there is no God for you—nobody who lights up the stars for you and directs the traffic in the heavens. Now, don’t let’s argue about such details; let’s come to the plain story. I’m telling you that story just as it happened.”
2
At about the time of the American Revolution there lived in the vicinity of Huacal, in northern Mexico, a well-to-do Indian farmer, who, in fact, was chieftain of the Chiricahua Indians. These Indians, very peaceful people, had settled in this region hundreds and hundreds of years before and had found more pleasure and riches in tilling the soil than the neighboring tribes who went marauding whenever they felt like it.
The chieftain, who was otherwise so blessed with well-being, had a great sorrow which overshadowed his whole life: His only son and heir was blind. In former times this son would have been done away with right after being born. But under the influence of the new religion even the Indians had become more generous in such things, and the child, as he was otherwise normal, was allowed to live. The boy was a strong and healthy child, handsome and well formed. He grew not only in size but in intelligence, and the nearer he came to manhood, the more sorrowful became his father.
It so happened that a monk came that way, a holy person who understood well how to live on the hospitality of the Indians without giving them more in return than an occasional story about events supposed to have taken place between two and three thousand years ago, concerning people entirely different from the Indians. Finally the monk felt that he had to do better if he wished to stay longer without having to plow and to sow for his living. Besides, he needed ready cash for some purpose or other. So he began bargaining with the chieftain, telling him that for a worthwhile consideration he would give him advice as to how to win the grace of the Holy Virgin and make her do what no doctor ever could do: give light to the eyes of the chief’s only son. The monk was expert in giving good counsel to the suffering and afflicted. He had been trained for it.
“Of course,” he explained to the chief, “this heavenly grace of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe is not easily gained. You understand, my son, such a great lady
cannot be treated like an ordinary hussy. Therefore do not spare the rich offerings, as the Holy Virgin, just to make it quite plain to you what I mean, is always in a very receptive mood toward money in any form and also jewelry. And so are the most holy persons who wait upon this great lady.”
For this sure remedy the monk expected his own reward at once, as no one, regardless of how holy he may be, is expected to live on hope for the manna which once came, but which may never come again. The monk, having received his pay, gave the chief, his wife, and his son his blessing and went on his way to find another tribe that might be willing to support him well for telling stories about miracles.
The chieftain left his possessions in charge of his uncle, gathered together all the money and all the jewelry he had, and went on his long pilgrimage to Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. No horse, mule, or burro was to be used on this dreary way. With his wife and son and three servants, he had to make this journey of nearly fourteen hundred miles on foot. At every church on his way he had to kneel down and say three hundred Ave Marias and to offer the church a certain number of candles, a silver eye, and money. To make this pilgrimage last as long as possible may have been of importance to the monk for reasons of his own, but since he was a loyal Christian, let us presume the journey had to be made in this way so as to be a success.
The chief reached Mexico City at last. After having made his offerings in the cathedral, confessed, and prayed there for a whole day, and with special blessings from the fathers, he went about the last part of his hard task.
It is slightly more than three miles from the cathedral to the image of Guadalupe. These three miles the chief, his wife, his son, and his three servants had to walk on their knees, and each of the pilgrims had to carry in his hands a lighted candle, which must not be permitted to go out, no matter what the weather. If a candle should burn out, it had to be replaced with a new one. Since the candles had been specially blessed in the cathedral, they were far more expensive than ordinary candles, and whenever a new one was lighted, a hundred extra Ave Marias had to be said. It should be added that the Ave Marias were practically the only prayers the chief and his family knew how to say.
