The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

by B. TRAVEN

  “Yes, as I said, don Ruego, you behaved like a true Spanish nobleman. When we are in the capital I shall reward you as you deserve. I shall give you——” she was about to say the mule with the whole pack on its back, but she recovered in time from this exaggerated generosity and continued: “I shall give you the right pack of that mule over there, and the Indians of your troop shall divide among themselves the left pack of that same mule. Those damned robbers, those funking mestizos, if they behave well from now on, shall each receive a bonus of one fourth of what the faithful Indians shall have. Of course, don Ruego, the horse you are riding, and the pistol and the rifle you carry, shall be yours as a token from me; and the Indians shall have their ponies and their pistols.”

  “Muchas gracias, doña María, I kiss your feet,” Ruego said, kissing her hand, and then added: “May I, with your very kind permission, now go to look after the work?”

  “You are handsome, Ruego. Do you know that? I never noticed that before.” She said this with a true feminine smile, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Yes, you are handsome and very strong. Strange that I never noted you before, Ruego.” She gave him another smile. “Let’s talk this over, Ruego, when we are in the capital. You know this is no time nor place to talk of such things.”

  Ruego snaked his body from his feet up as if he wished to wind himself into the form of a corkscrew; had he been covered with feathers one might have thought him a turkey at coupling-time.

  “Look after the men and see that they are doing their work properly, don Ruego. You are now the mayordomo here and in charge of everything, the only man I can perfectly rely on.”

  “Yes, doña María, por la Santísima you can, by the Holiest Virgin you surely can, and once more, mil gracias for your kindness.”

  Doña María turned round and went to her little tent. “What brains a man has!” she said to herself.

  9

  The mutiny was quashed. There was no other similar incident the rest of the way. Ruego did his part as doña María expected him to. Any new uneasiness among the men could now, with the help of Ruego, be quelled at its first sign.

  Doña María had, in fact, never thought of any sort of rebellion in her own camp. There were other problems which she had taken into account. The nearer she came to more populated regions of the country, the less safe became the roads. Hordes of bandits, footpads, deserters from the army and from ships, escaped convicts, were practically everywhere. The power of the Spanish rule in Latin-America was inevitably breaking to pieces. Since this rule had been nothing short of dictatorship and tyranny, conditions were as they always and everywhere are when a dictatorship is nearing its inglorious end. Dictatorships do not and cannot allow people to think politically or economically for themselves, and so when a dictatorship is tumbling, people are in no way prepared to meet the changed conditions, and chaos is the result. Here authorities were so hard pressed from all sides and from all quarters that they no longer could cope with the growing unrest all over the country.

  Day and night doña María lived in constant fear of being attacked, robbed, and murdered. Every mule and every pack on the backs of the animals had to be guarded. There were days when the whole train made hardly ten miles, and even these ten miles under difficulties which seemed impossible to overcome.

  During this journey doña María lived through a period still more trying than that at the mine. There she could not remember any day when she had felt happy and safe. She had never felt sure of her treasures. Always in fear, always worrying, and at night plagued by nightmares and terrible dreams. She could not recall a night of sound and refreshing sleep. And during the daytime she was hunted by worries and fears even worse.

  What had kept her spirits up during these years was the thought of the future. In imagination she could see herself walking by the side of her duke to the throne of the king and there curtsying and having the honor of kissing the heavy ring on the finger of His Most Holy Majesty.

  10

  The great moment finally arrived. The transport reached Mexico City without a single bar of the precious metal lost.

  Hardly had she reached her destination when the fame of her riches spread all over the city. The news of the arrival of the richest woman in the Spanish empire came even to the ears of the viceroy, the most powerful person in New Spain. Doña María was honored with an invitation to a private audience with the viceroy which lasted, as the whole city noted with amazement, more than an hour.

  Her gratitude knew no limits when this high personage promised that her treasures would be well taken care of in the vaults of the king’s own treasury, the safest place in New Spain, safer than the vaults of the Bank of England in those times. Guarded by the whole Spanish colonial army garrisoned in the city and under the personal guarantee of the viceroy himself. In these vaults her treasures could rest until they were transported under the vigilance of special troops of the king to the port of Veracruz to be shipped from there to Spain. Doña María, overwhelmed by such generosity, promised the viceroy a gift in cash which even a viceroy of New Spain could verily call most princely.

  Doña María paid off her men in full, giving them even more than she had promised for faithful service, and discharged them honorably. This done, she went to the best hotel in the city to take up quarters fit for a queen.

  Now, at last, she could sit down to a decent meal for the first time in many years. After so many hardships and sorrows she could at last eat peacefully and with gusto.

  Then, after a most enjoyable supper, she lay down in the finest and softest bed to the sweetest slumber she had had in long, dreary years. Upon awakening she could think of finer, sweeter, more womanly things, and of a handsome duke, perhaps a marquis.

  But now something happened that doña María in all her calculations had never foreseen.

  Her treasures did not disappear, they were not stolen from the vaults of the king’s treasury. Something else disappeared and was never seen again or heard of.

  And this was: doña María herself. She lay down in her queenly bed, but since she did so, no one has ever seen her or heard of her. She disappeared mysteriously, and nobody knew what had become of her.

  But while no one knew anything about doña María, everyone in New Spain knew that the riches of doña María had not disappeared, but were safely in the possession of one supposed to know better what to do with them than a foolish woman who thought that nobility stands for honesty.

  11

  When Howard had ended his story, he added: “I wanted to tell you this tale to show you that to find gold and lift it out of the earth is not the whole thing. The gold has to be shipped. And shipping it is more precarious than digging and washing it. You may have a heap of it right before you and still not know if you can buy a cup of coffee and a hamburger.”

  “Isn’t there any chance to find out where the mine was?” Curtin asked. “That woman surely didn’t take out all that was in it.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Howard made a face at Curtin. “There is much left, even today, only you are late as always, Curty. The mine is worked by an American company, and it has yielded ten times more than doña María ever succeeded in taking out of it. You can easily find the mine, and it seems to be inexhaustible. Its name is the Doña María Mine, and it is located near Huacal. If you wish, you may go up and ask for a job. Maybe you can land one. If you are lucky, they may pay you forty a week. Just try.”

  12

  For a good while the men sat in silence by the fire. Then they stood up, stretched their legs, yawned, and made ready to check in.

  “That story is more than a hundred years old.” Lacaud suddenly broke the silence.

  “Has anybody around here said it isn’t?” Dobbs sneered.

  “Certainly not,” Lacaud answered. “But I know a good story about a rich gold mine which is only two years old, and just as good or better.”

  “Tell it to your grandmother,” Dobbs said. “We don’t want any of your good stories, ev
en if they’re only a week old. They’re stale already when you open your mouth. Better not say a word. What is it you are? Oh, yes, an eterner, isn’t it?”

  “A what?” Lacaud looked at him with wide-open eyes.

  “Aw, nothing, baloney. Leave me in peace.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Laky.” Howard tried to calm Lacaud. “You mustn’t take that Dobby guy seriously. Can’t you see that he was born crosswise? He’s still suffering from it. That’s the trouble with him. If you hand him a double cut of apple pie with sweet cream he’ll scoff at you and ask why you didn’t give him pumpkin pie. That’s him.”

  “Oh, you mugs, you make me sick, all of you.” Dobbs made a rather dirty gesture and went to the tent, leaving the others by the fire.

  17

  The next day, the last the partners meant to spend here, found them so excited that they hardly could eat their breakfast. Everything was ready for the homeward trip.

  They crawled into their special hiding-places and brought forth their earnings to be packed up. The goods looked poor enough in their present state. Small grains, dirty-looking sand, gray dust, wrapped in old rags and tied up with string. Each of the partners had quite a number of these bundles. The problem was to pack them well away between the dried hides so that any examination of the packs by authorities or by bandits would not reveal them. By doing this the partners hoped that they could bring it all safely to town. The main thing was to have the packs at the nearest depot where they could take the train back to the port. Once on the train, there would be little danger.

  When the packs were ready, Dobbs and Curtin went hunting to get sufficient meat for the trip. Howard stayed in the camp to make pack-saddles and overhaul the straps and ropes so as to avoid breakage and delays on the road.

  Lacaud had, as usual, gone his own way. He was roaming over the mountain, crawling through underbrush, scratching the ground, and examining it with a lens. He carried also a little bottle with acid in it with which he frequently made tests of the soil he dug out from under rocks. At times he went with a bagful of sand down to the brook to wash it.

  Curtin thought better of Lacaud than did Dobbs, who, whenever he thought it opportune, ridiculed him. Howard rather liked him. One day he said to Curtin: “He knows what he wants, that guy does. Anyhow, I don’t think he will ever find anything worth while around here.”

  “Suppose he does.” Curtin wanted to know what they would do if this should happen.

  “Even if he should bring me a piece big as a walnut, I wouldn’t stay on,” Howard answered. “I’m through here.”

  “Believe me, brother, me too,” Curtin responded. “I wouldn’t stay on for a pound pure. I only wonder what Dobbs would do.”

  “I suppose he would throw his lot in with that Arizona guy. He’s a bit too greedy, Dobby is. That’s his only fault. Otherwise he’s a regular guy.”

  This talk had taken place two days before. Howard was just thinking about it when Dobbs and Curtin returned with two wild turkeys and a good-sized wild pig.

  The old man smiled approvingly. “Well, boys, this will last us the whole trip. You know man can live for a long time on nothing but meat and be just as healthy as a well-fed elephant. I think we can even leave part of our provisions for this Lacaud mug.”

  2

  That evening as they sat by the fire roasting the pig, Curtin said to Lacaud: “I presume you mean to stay here, Laky?”

  “I certainly do. I’m not through yet.”

  “Have you found anything yet?” Dobbs asked.

  “Nothing of much value so far. But I’m hopeful.”

  “That’s fine. Stay that way.” Dobbs seemed to be pleased that Lacaud had again searched in vain. “Fine, I say. Being hopeful is always a fine thing. Smells after paradise. You know that’s also hope, all hope. Count me out, brother.”

  “I didn’t mean to count you in.”

  “Don’t you get fresh around here. We’re still here, and as long as we’re around, you are still a guest, and not so very welcome either. Get that straight, pal of mine.”

  “Dobby, what the hell is up with you?” Howard watched him with curiosity. “I’ve never seen you this way. You behave like a little child.”

  “I don’t like to be bossed, that’s all. Never liked it.”

  “But, man on earth,” Howard spoke in his fatherly way, “nobody is bossing you. You must be feeling ants running wild on your skin.”

  This was their last night in the camp.

  3

  Before sunrise the three partners were ready to march. Lacaud was cooking his breakfast.

  Howard went over to him, shook hands, and said: “Well, comrade in the wars, we’re on our way. Now, look here; we’ve left you coffee, some tea, quite a bit of salt and pepper, sugar, and here is a huge piece of a fat pig we got yesterday. You may need it. We don’t want to carry more than we’ll need on our way. The burros have quite a load, and part of the packs we have to carry on our own backs, which will be hard enough on us when we’re making the steep trails.”

  “Thanks a lot. You’ve been awfully good to me all the time, Mr. Howard. Well, again, thanks for everything. And all the luck on your way back home!”

  “Over there you’ll find a good piece of canvas. You’re welcome to it. I see that you have only a little scout’s tent; that’s rather uncomfortable, especially during the heavy rains.”

  “Hey, old man,” Dobbs was yelling, “are you coming or are you coming? Just tell us. Hell of an old woman’s chatter; why the devil don’t you marry him and be happy ever after?”

  “Coming,” Howard shouted. Then, lowering his voice, he said to Lacaud: “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

  “Thanks for wishing me luck. I sure will; I mean I sure shall find the right thing. I know I am on the right track. Of course, it may be a week longer, or two weeks, but trust me, friend, I’m on the right track, and no mistake about it.”

  At this moment Dobbs and Curtin returned, leaving the burros at the entrance to the path.

  “Sorry,” Curtin said to Lacaud, shaking his hand, “I forgot to say good-by. I didn’t see you, it was too dark. Excuse me, old feller. But see, I was busy and really quite a bit excited. Want some tobacco? Take more, I have plenty. We’ll soon be at the depot or passing through a village where we can buy as much as we want.”

  Dobbs slapped Lacaud on the back. “Lonely, that’s what you’re going to be. By the way, I noticed you use the same cartridges for your shotgun that I do. Have a dozen. I can spare them. Well, to make it a round sum, take ten more. We won’t do much hunting on our way, so we won’t miss them at all. I hate to carry them on my back. Well, good-by and forget what I’ve said. I didn’t mean it, anyhow. It was just for fun, you know that. I sure hope you make that million here which we didn’t make. Some guys have all the luck. By-by, old boy.”

  Then they had to hurry after the burros, as they had wandered off already.

  Lacaud, left alone, stood for a while and watched the partners leave the camp and disappear into the bushes.

  For a good while he heard them calling from far off, trying to get the burros properly on their way. The voices then faded slowly out. A heavy stillness settled upon the camp.

  Lacaud became aware of it. He turned toward the fire, pushed a few sticks into it with his boots, and said aloud: “A pity!”

  The first rays of the sun gilded the heads of the rocks as Lacaud heard the last forlorn cry from one of the partners driving on the burros.

  18

  The partners went a long way round the village where Curtin used to buy provisions. It was better to let the villagers believe him still up in the mountains. Whenever it could be done, they avoided villages, traveling, wherever possible, isolated trails. The less they were seen, the less apt they were to be molested.

  They had very little cash about them. Upon reaching the station they would sell the burros, the tools, and even the hides, which would give them more than sufficient money to buy sec
ond-class railroad tickets to the port.

  Most of the trails led naturally into villages, and so it frequently happened that they found themselves unexpectedly at the first houses of a village which they had not been able to see before, owing to the woods, hills, or curves. Turning back when in sight of the houses would have aroused suspicion, so they had to go on into the heart of the village, where one of them usually went into the general store and bought something—cigarettes, a box of matches, a can of sardines, sugar, or salt. Here he spoke a few words to the storekeeper and to bystanders, so as to let everybody know that the three had no cause to hide their faces.

  2

  On the third day they found themselves, about noon, in a village which they would have avoided had it been a matter of their own choice. On reaching the plaza they saw four Mexicans standing in front of an adobe house. Three of them carried guns, yet they did not look like bandits.

  “Now we’re caught,” Dobbs said to Howard. “That’s police.”

  “Seems so.”

  Dobbs stopped the burros as if to try to lead them through the village some other way. Curtin marched behind the last animal.

  “You’d better not make any foolish move,” Howard warned Dobbs. “If we arouse suspicion now, we’re in for it. Let’s go straight on. All they can do is search us and hold us for taxes and for dodging the permit.”

  “Exactly! And that may cost us everything we have, even the burros.”

  Curtin came up with the last pair of beasts. “What is this man doing there—I mean the man with specs and no gun?”

  This bespectacled man was standing in the portico of the humble house, discussing something with a few residents gathered around him. There was a very small table set up in the portico. Spread on this table was a white cotton cloth, none too clean.