“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.
Chapter 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 second-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.
“I figure,” Howard said, “this guy is a special commissioner of the gov’ment_the federal government, I mean. Hell, I can’t quite make out what he wants.”
“Looks to me as if he’s questioning the villagers,” Dobbs said. “I hope he isn’t asking them any questions about us.”
“What of it? It’s too late now, anyhow.” Curtin kicked a burro nibbling at the grass of the plaza.
“All right, let’s pretend we don’t mind.” Howard lighted his pipe to cover his nervousness.
