The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Chapter 19

That night the partners pitched camp not far away from the village of Amapuli. An Indian meeting them on the trail had assured them that the next water was too far off to be reached before nightfall, so they decided to pass the night there by a brook, although it was still early in the afternoon.

While sitting by the fire cooking their supper, they were surprised to see four Indians on horseback coming into their camp. The visitors greeted them courteously and asked permission to sit down by the fire and rest a little.

“Ay, como no?” Howard answered. “Why not? It’s a pleasure to have your company. No, no bother at all, caballeros. Feel quite at home, es su casa. Want to have some hot coffee with us?”

The coffee was accepted, and the four natives helped themselves, all drinking out of the same cup, which Curtin offered them. Dobbs offered his tobacco-pouch, which the men also accepted. They each took a pinch of tobacco and rolled it in corn leaves which they carried with them. In return they offered the partners tobacco of their own.

Silently they watched Howard and Dobbs roast their pork and cook their rice. Curtin was taking care of the burros.

Then, after a long wait, one of the Indians seemed ready at last to come to the point of their visit. It is not considered polite among them to make their wishes clear during the first halfhour.

“I presume,” the speaker began, “you caballeros come from a faraway country, and I trust you will travel a long way from here. I think, and my companeros think the same, that you are very clever, very intelligent, and highly educated men.”

“Fairly.” Howard took up their way of talking. “We can read books and also papers with all the news, and we can write letters and also count with written figures.”

“Figures?”

“Yep, figures,” Howard repeated. “To say it more plainly, ten, five, twenty—those are figures.”

“But,” said the Indian, “that would be only half of it. You can’t say ten or twenty. You have to add what ten you mean, ten goats, or ten centavos, or ten horses. Ten alone means nothing.”

“Ta! vez, maybe you’re right.” Howard had never looked at figures this way.

For a quarter of an hour more the Indians watched the partners preparing their food.

Then the man spoke again: “You see, caballeros, it is like this. My boy fell into the water today. We fished him out soon enough. I do not think he is dead. I think he is not dead at all. But he simply won’t come to, see? He can’t move and he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t wake up. That’s the whole trouble with him. Now, I understand you have read many books in which much is said about all the wisdom of doctors and medicine. And so I came with my dear friends here to find out if perhaps one of you, having read all the clever books written by great men, might know what is the matter with my boy who fell into the river, not very wide, but right now very deep.”

“When did your son fall into the water? Was it yesterday?” Howard asked.

“No, senor, he fell into the water only today—this afternoon. But he does not wake up. When he did not come to and we no longer knew what to do, along came don Filberto, my friend here and neighbor. He is the man, you will remember, who met you today in the bush and whom you asked how far away the next water might be. So we thought that you might know what we can do to bring my son back to life.”

Howard looked at the four Indians. Then he looked at the supper, now almost ready. And he said: “1 will go with you, friends, and have a look at the boy. I don’t know if I can do anything. But I’ll do my best to help you.”

The Indians stood up, politely took leave of the two remaining partners, and with Howard in their midst went to their little village. Howard had been given a horse, while the owner of the horse took his seat behind the saddle of one of the others.

It was a poor adobe house which they entered. A petate, a palm mat, was spread over the only table in the house, and on this mat the boy lay.

Howard examined him carefully. He lifted the boy’s eyelids and held a lighted match before the eyes. Then he pressed his right ear against his heart. He put his hand against the upper part of the skull to see if it was still warm. Then he pressed the fingers and the toes of the youngster, watching to see if the pressed nails reddened quickly.

All the people assembled in the house seemed to expect that the American would now perform a great miracle such as raising the dead by sheer command. Howard stood for minutes silent, hesitating what treatment if any he should try first. “I will see if I can bring him back this way,” he finally said.

There was little water coming from the body. The old man tried artificial respiration, something these Indians had never seen before. This treatment made a deep impression and added to the belief that Howard was a great medicine-man, even a magician. They looked at each other approvingly, and once more became convinced that those goddamned gringos could do things they had thought only God Himself could do.

Howard, examining the boy again after fifteen minutes of this work, was sure that he showed slight signs of life. He asked for a little mirror, and when he held it to the boy’s mouth, he thought he could see a trace of mist on the glass. He had the women bring him all the hot water that was in the house and in the neighborhood and boil as much more as could be had. He got towels and made hot compresses to put on the boy’s belly, and when they were in place he rubbed and slapped the patient’s hands and feet. Then he forced his mouth open, pulled the tongue out as far as he could, and poured a teaspoonful of tequila into the mouth. Next he began to massage the heart. When he listened again with his ear close to the breast, the heart had begun to pump feebly. Howard could hear it very distinctly. And just then the boy began to cough.

Half of all this procedure, Howard knew, was unnecessary. He had gone through it merely to impress the Indians with his great wisdom, for he noted that the Indians were watching every move he made. He admitted to himself that the boy if left entirely alone might, perhaps, have come to just as well. Why he put on this show he could not explain. He had the feeling that the more he acted, the more these people would respect and admire him; though why, again, he should yearn for the admiration and respect of these poor folk he would not have been able to explain, even to himself.

All the people present considered that he had performed a miracle. Even now, when the boy opened his eyes and began to recognize his surroundings and his father and mother, the onlookers acted as if under a spell. They did not utter a word, but simply looked at the awakening boy and at Howard in awe.

When Howard had made sure that the boy was all right and that there would be no bad reaction he took his hat and said: “Buenas noches! Good night!” and went to the door. The father of the boy followed, shook hands, and muttered: “Muchas, muchas, mu gracias, senor, thousand thanks!” Then he returned to the table, where the boy was trying to sit up.

It was now pitch-dark. Howard had some difficulty in finding his way back to camp. No one accompanied him, but the faint light of the camp-fire flickering in the distance guided him.

“Well, what did the great doctor achieve?” Dobbs asked when the old man came near.

“It wasn’t anything to speak of. Artificial respiration and some boy-scout tricks and he came along fine. I think it was more shock than drowning. He hadn’t swallowed much water, as far as I could tell. Perhaps he was stunned when diving. Now what about my part of the supper? Any meat left?”

“Plenty. Don’t you worry,” Curtin laughed and heaped his plate.

Dawn saw the partners already on their march again. They wished to reach the village of Tominil, where they would try to cross the high passes of the Sierra Madre.

At noon they stopped to give themselves and the animals a rest, as the sun was mercilessly hot.

They were just ready to pack up again when Curtin exclaimed: “Now what the devil is coming? Looks as if we have something on our heels.”

“Where?” Dobbs asked. At the same moment he had caught sight of a group of Indians on horseback.

It was not long before they reached the partners, who recognized four of the men as the same who last night had come to their camp to ask for help. Two others Howard knew had been in the house when he had treated the boy.

The Indians greeted the travelers, and one of the men asked: “Senores, why did you leave our neighborhood so soon?”

Howard laughed. “We weren’t running away, senores. The fact is we have to go to Durango, to attend to our business, which is very important.”

“Business?” the father of the rescued boy questioned. “What is business, after all? Just hustle and worry. Business can wait. There is no business in this world which is urgent, senores. Urgent business is nothing but sheer imagination. Death finishes the most important and the most urgent business in a second. So what? There are more days coming, as long as there is a sun in the heavens. Every new day you can use to do business. Why just today? There is always a manana, always a tomorrow, which is just as good as today. What’s the difference between today and tomorrow? It’s only imaginary. And so I say, senores, you cannot go. You cannot leave me like that. No, senor. You cannot leave me in debt to you. I invite you to stay with me. You rescued my boy from certain death. For having done this great service I should be damned and burn in hell for all eternity if I allowed you to go without first showing you my deep gratitude. What is more, all the people in the village would believe me a sinner and a devil if I did not reward you properly for what you have done for me and my family.”

Dobbs pushed Curtin in the ribs and said in a low voice: “Seems to me a similar story to that told us by the old man the other day about the doctor who cured the eyes of the son of an Indian chief, and this time it’s us that gets the benefit. Sure, that guy knows a lost gold mine he’s going to offer us. I bet you.”

“Keep quiet and let’s listen first,” Curtin said.

The Indian continued his speech. “You see, senores, the only way I can show you my gratitude is by inviting you to be my guests for at least two weeks.”

Dobbs looked sour.

“No, senores, let’s make it six weeks; that would be better. I have good milpas, very fine acres. Lots of corn. I have many goats and quite a number of sheep. I am not so poor as I may look. Each day I shall have a turkey roasted for you, and as many eggs and as much goat’s milk and roast kid as you can eat. I have already ordered my wife to make you at least three times a week the very best tamales she can make. In fact, she has been hard at work since long before sunrise to prepare a great feast for you. You cannot well leave her now with all the good food cooked. She would die of shame, thinking you believe her a bad cook. She isn’t; my wife is a great cook. I think she is the best cook for miles around.”

“I thank you for your kindness, for your very great kindness indeed,” Howard responded, falling in with the elaborate speech his would-be host had used. “To tell you the truth, I’m very sorry we can’t stay on. We have to go to Durango. Unless I am in Durango inside of a week, I’ll lose all my business.”

“In this you are mistaken, my friend. You won’t lose your business. And if you should, why, pick up another one. There is so much business in the world just waiting to be picked up. No use to hurry. All I can say is that you cannot go like this. I have to pay you for your medicine. I haven’t any money. All I can offer is my house and my most sincere hospitality. Sorry, my friend, I’m afraid I shall have to insist that you stay with me at least six weeks. You will get a good horse to ride on. You may go hunting and get more hides. You haven’t so many. We have the best game around here. I will see the musicians tomorrow, and every Saturday night we will have a dance. The prettiest girls will come and be pleased to dance with you. I will make them, because you are my guest. Why worry about your business? There is only one business on earth, and that is to live and be happy. What greater thing can you gain from life than happiness?”

“I am extremely sorry, senor, but I cannot stay.” Howard had no means and no words with which to explain to these simple men that business is the only real thing in life, that it is heaven and paradise and all the happiness of a good Rotarian. These Indians were still living in a semi-civilized state, with little hope of improvement within the next hundred years. “No, honestly,” he added, “I can’t accept your hospitality, much as I’d like to.”

“Understand, caballeros,” Dobbs cut in, “we can’t stay here. We can’t, I say, we simply can’t, and that’s that; there’s no other way out.”

“You’d better not try to come into our deal, young man,” said the Indian, who took little notice of Dobbs and his opinion. He again addressed Howard: “I don’t accept refusal, caballero. We have taken your help without question and we accepted what you offered us. You cannot back out now and refuse what we wish to offer you in return for your service.”

To get angry would not help. The partners felt that there was no escape. Here were six mounted Indians with a firm and unshakable idea of what they wanted. They were determined to show their gratitude in their own way, and show it they would if it meant taking the partners to the village as prisoners.

At this stage of deadlock Curtin said: “Oiga, listen, friends, we want to talk this thing over among ourselves, if you don’t mind. Will you please leave us alone for a minute?”

When they had stepped aside, Dobbs spoke up: “Look here, Howy, I don’t think we can get out of this. They will take us along by force if we don’t go. Now, the thing is, they want only you, you alone, not us two. That much is clear.”

“Looks like.”

“Okay. So I propose that you stay a few days and we go on. You may follow up later, meeting us in Durango.”

“What about my packs?”

“You take them along with you,” Curtin suggested.

Dobbs was against it. “That wouldn’t be wise. They might, out of pure curiosity, search the packs, and if they discover what is in them they will rob you, perhaps kill you. You can never trust an Indian. No road would be safe for you traveling alone. You know that, old feller, don’t you?”

“All right. What can I do? Spill it.”

“I suggest we take it along with us, and, as I said, we would wait for you in Durango City. Or if you should stay longer, we might take the whole lot with us to the port and deposit it in your name in a bank there, in the Banking Company or in the Banco Nacional, just as you say.”

After some further discussion they decided that this was the best suggestion, in fact the only one to consider under the circumstances which confronted them.

Curtin wrote out a receipt for so many bags of dust of approximately so much weight. He signed the receipt and so did Dobbs.

“I don’t think it necessary for us to exchange receipts,” Curtin explained, “yet something might befall one of us. On such a trip one isn’t always sure of reaching his destination. If we can’t wait for you in port, this receipt will give you the right to claim your portion, which we’ll deposit with the Banking Company—you know that bank on the ground floor of the Southern? We will tell the manager that you hold the receipt. We’ll leave with him our signatures to identify this receipt. Okay?”

“I guess that’s really the best we can do. Agreed,” Howard said. “You take, of course, all the burros along with you. These fellers will surely let me have a horse to ride to Durango. If lucky, I may catch up with you sooner than you expect.”

“That would be fine. I hate to be separated from you like this.” Curtin reached out his hand to shake. “Good luck. And hurry up to join us.”

“I sure will.”

“Good-by, old rascal.” Dobbs shook hands with Howard. “Make it snappy. I’m feeling sort of lonely leaving you behind. I’ll sure miss your preaching, and more so your hot-mamma stories. Well, as a dried-up hussy once told me in Sunday school, sometimes, in this sad life, we have to swallow disappointments. Nobody can help that. Have all the luck, old man!”

“And here is some good advice that might come in handy, Howy,” Curtin said, laughing. “Don’t you get mixed up with some of those Indian dames. They are often really smart, and also awfully pretty. Lots of them are. You know that, you old rider. And don’t you come some day and tell me you’ve actually married a squaw. You know, quite a number of guys do it, and like it a lot. But don’t tell me later I didn’t warn you if anything goes wrong, you old bucker.” Curtin slapped him on the back till the old man coughed.

Still coughing, he said: “Maybe I will get me such a bronzecolored hot dame myself. I’m not so sure. They’ve got class, real class, if you know what I mean. And there’s no hustling and worrying about them. They are easy to feed and easy to entertain. No taking them every night to the goddamned pictures and bridge-parties where they lose your hard-earned money, goddamn it. And no nagging either. I’ll think it over, Curty. Maybe I am going to change my outlook on life. Well, have an easy trip, partners.”

The burros had become restless. Dobbs and Curtin went after them, and the train was on its way.

Howard watched his two partners go down the trail. When he turned to the Indians, patiently waiting for him, his eyes looked watery.

He was given a horse to ride.

Shouting joyfully, they all rode off. Howard was led in triumph into the village, where all the people, old and young, were awaiting him and cheering him as though he had returned from some victory in foreign lands for the glory of this little village.