Dobbs looked around as if searching for something on the ground. “Do you want me to stone you, you devil of a silly talker? Say what he wants and have done.”
“Okay, go down yourself and ask him for a written statement to be given to the press.”
“Gosh, be quiet for once, Dobby, and let him tell his yarn in his own way. Well, Curty, go on, what’s the brass tack?”
“Everything would have been fine as sunshine but for that devil of a storekeeper, whom we have actually made a millionaire. He had to brag and tell that Arizona hick that up here on this mountain ridge an American is roaming about hunting tigers and lions or weasels and what have you. That goddamn devil of a storekeeper also said that this chingando gringo is due to come down for his provisions one of these days and if that Arizona mug would stick around that long he might speak to his countryman. To this that hang-around answered that he’d like to wait and meet me.”
“So you mean to tell us he actually waited for you to show up? Is that what you mean to say?” Dobbs got more and more excited.
“You heard me, or did you sleep while I was reporting? Well, he waited for me. So the very moment I stepped into the store, he came, that hell of a brother from Arizona. He was an entire stranger to me. I’d never seen him before anywhere in this here country. ‘Hello, stranger, how are ye?’ and with this he bumped me. I tried to shake him off and show him an icy shoulder. I only said: ‘How’s y’self?’ and tuned off, paying all my attention to the storekeeper. And what do you think? He didn’t mind my being cold at all. He went on talking and saying that he thinks there must be truckloads of real goods up there in the mountains. So that I might understand what he meant, he explained that he, of Course, was speaking of the real stuff—that is, of yellow glittering dirt.”
“Hell!” Howard blared out. “Looks tough to me, it sure does. Somehow he must have got an idea into his head when that storekeeper told him about you staying up here for so long a time without looking for other hunting-grounds.”
“What did you tell him after he’d touched the right switch?” Dobbs asked.
“I said to him he shouldn’t take me for a kid. Sure I’ve been up here for quite a while and I know the whole landscape around, and if there were a single grain of gold he could bet that I’d sure know it, and I assured him that there is nothing doing here for gold, or even copper, or I’d have seen it.”
“What did he say to that door leading out?”
“He just answered with a smile showing that he was wise, and, to make everything positive and no mistake about it, he said: ‘I wouldn’t think you so dumb, brother. Believe me, if I only see a hill five miles away, I can tell you whether it carries an ounce or a ship-load. If you haven’t found anything yet, I’ll come up and put your nose into it. Here in the valley I’ve seen indications, lots of indications in fact, and tracing the rocks I found that they must have come from that ridge up there, washed down by the tropical torrents.’ ‘You don’t say so, you mug,’ I said to him, and says he: ‘Yes, believe it or not, I say so, and take this home with you.’”
Howard interrupted Curtin: “I have to say this much for that guy, if he can tell from the landscape and from the wash-down the load of a mountain, well, then he must be a very great man.”
“Maybe he is a geogist or what they call the guys who can tell right from the ground if there is oil or if there is a dry hole.”
“You mean geologist, Dobby,” Howard corrected him. “Maybe he is, maybe he’s just beating the -brush to see if the rabbit is coming out of it.”
An idea occurred to Dobbs. “Did you ever think that he might be a spy sent by the government or by the chieftains of a horde of bandits, to watch for our return and rob us or get the government to confiscate all we’ve made? Why, I’m almost sure he’s in touch with bandits. Even if they don’t know that we’ve got good pay with us, they might rob us just for our burros and hides and, what is of more worth to them, for our shotguns, tools, clothes. We have enough things outside of the pay to lure any bandit to get us on our way home.”
Curtin shook his head. “I don’t think so. He didn’t impress me as being a government spy or a tip-off for bandits. I’m sure he means what he says. He is earnestly after gold. That’s what I think he is.”
“How come you know what he is after?” Howard asked.
“Because he had packed up already when I left.”
“What do you mean packed up? Packed up what and on what?”
“He has two mules. One is a saddle-mule, and the other he uses for his packs.”
“What sort of packs?”
“Seems to be a tent. Blankets. Frying-pans. A coffeepot.”
“No tools? I mean, no shovels and pick-axes and all that?” This from Dobbs.
The old man said: “If he’s after the riches he can’t very well dig up the dirt with his claws. You didn’t see any shovels and such things?”
“Matter of fact, I didn’t exactly search his packs.”
