The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Chapter 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.”

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.

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.