Payment in Raw Gold
'You were merely speaking by way of jest, I take it, Mr. Howard,'
remarked Longstreet, after he had interestedly watched the rancher put
a third and fourth heaping spoonful of sugar in his tin cup of coffee.
'I refer, you understand, to your hinting a moment ago at there being
any truth in the old Indian superstitions. I am not to suppose, am I,
that you actually give any credence to tales of supernatural influences
manifested hereabouts?'
Alan Howard stirred his coffee meditatively, and after so leisurely a
fashion that Longstreet began to fidget. The reply, when finally it
came, was sufficiently non-committal.
'I said "_Quién sabe_?" to the question just now,' he said, a twinkle
in the regard bestowed upon the scientist. 'They are two pretty good
little old words and fit in first-rate lots of times.'
'Spanish for "Who knows?" aren't they?'
Howard nodded. 'They used to be Spanish; I guess they're Mex by now.'
Longstreet frowned and returned to the issue.
'If you were merely jesting, as I supposed----'
'But was I?' demanded Howard. 'What do I know about it? I know horses
and cows; that's my business. I know a thing or two about men, since
that's my business at times, too; also something like half of that
about half-breeds and mules; I meet up with them sometimes in the run
of the day's work. You know something of what I think you call
auriferous geology. But what does either of us know of the nightly
custom of dead Indians and Indian gods?'
Helen wondered with her father whether there were a vein of seriousness
in the man's thought. Howard squatted on his heels, from which he had
removed his spurs; they were very high heels, but none the less he
seemed comfortably at home rocking on them. Longstreet noted with his
keen eyes, altered his own squatting position a fraction, and opened
his mouth for another question. But Howard forestalled him, saying
casually:
'I have known queer things to happen here, within a few hundred yards
of this place. I haven't had time to go finding out the why of them;
they didn't come into my day's work. I have listened to some
interesting yarns; truth or lies it didn't matter to me. They say that
ghosts haunt the Pool just yonder. I have never seen a ghost; there's
nothing in raising ghosts for market, and I'm the busiest man I know
trying to chew a chunk that I have bitten off. They tell you down at
San Juan and in Poco Poco, and all the way up to Tecolote, that if you
will come here a certain moonlight night of the year and will watch the
water of the pool, you'll see a vision sent up by the gods of the
Underworld. They'll even tell you how a nice little old god by the
name of Pookhonghoya appears now and then by night, hunting souls of
enemies--and running by the side of the biggest, strangest wolf that
human eyes ever saw.'
Helen looked at him swiftly. He had added the last item almost as an
afterthought. She imagined that he had embellished the old tale from
his own recent experience, and, further, that Mr. Alan Howard was
making fun of them and was no adept in the science of fabrication.
'They go further,' Howard spun out his tale. 'Somewhere in the desert
country to the north there is, I believe, a tribe of Hidden People that
the white man has never seen. The interesting thing about them is that
they are governed by a young and altogether maddeningly pretty goddess
who is white and whose name is Yahoya. When they come right down to
the matter of giving names,' he added gravely, 'how is a man to go any
further than just say, "_Quién sabe_?"'
'That is stupid.' said Longstreet irascibly. 'It's a man's chief
affair in life to _know_. These absurd legends----'
'Don't you think, papa,' said Helen coolly, 'that instead of taxing Mr.
Howard's memory and--and imagination, it would be better if you asked
him about our way from here on?'
Howard chuckled. Professor Longstreet set aside his cup, cleared his
throat and agreed with his daughter.
'I am prospecting,' he announced, 'for gold. We are headed for what is
known as the Last Ridge country. I have a map here.'
He drew it from his pocket, neatly folded, and spread it out. It was a
map such as is to be purchased for fifty cents at the store in San
Juan, showing the main roads, towns, waterholes and trails. With a
blue pencil he had marked out the way they planned to go. Howard bent
forward and took the paper.
'We are going the same way, friend,' he said as he looked up. 'What is
more, we are going over a trail I know by heart. There is a good
chance I can save you time and trouble by making it a party of three.
Am I wanted?'
'It is extremely kind of you,' said Longstreet appreciatively. 'But
you are on horseback and we travel slowly.'
'I can spare the time,' was the even rejoinder. 'And I'll be glad to
do it.'
During the half-hour required to break camp and pack the two horses,
Alan Howard gave signs of an interest which now and then mounted almost
to high delight. He made no remark concerning the elaborate system of
water-bottles and canteens, but his eyes brightened as he aided the
professor in making them fast. When the procession was ready to start
he strode on ahead, leading his own horse and hiding from his new
friends the widening grin upon his face.
The sun was up; already the still heat of the desert was in the air.
Behind the tall rancher and his glossy mare came Professor Longstreet
driving his two pack animals. Just behind him, with much grave
speculation in her eyes, came Helen. A new man had swum all
unexpectedly into her ken and she was busy cataloguing him. He looked
the native in this environment, but for all that he was plainly a man
of her own class. No illiteracy, no wild shy awkwardness marked his
demeanour. He was as free and easy as the north wind; he might, after
all, be likeable. Certainly it was _courtois_ of him to set himself on
foot to be one of them. The mare looked gentle despite her high life;
Helen wondered if Alan Howard had thought of offering her his mount?
They had come to the first of the low-lying hills.
'Miss Longstreet,' called Howard, stopping and turning, 'wouldn't you
like to swing up on Sanchia? She is dying to be ridden.'
The trail here was wide and clearly defined; hence Longstreet and his
two horses went by and Helen came up with Howard. Hers was the trick
of level, searching eyes. She looked steadily at him as she said
evenly:
'So her name is Sanchia?'
For an instant the man did not appear to understand. Then suddenly
Helen was treated to the sight of the warm red seeping up under his
tan. And then he slapped his thigh and laughed; his laughter seeming
unaffected and joyous.
'Talk about getting absent-minded in my old age,' he declared. 'Her
name did use to be Sanchia; I changed it to Helen. Think of my sliding
back to the old name.'
Helen's candid look did not shift for the moment that she paused. Then
she went on by him, following her father, saying merely:
'Thank you, I'll walk. And if she were mine I'd keep the old name;
Sanchia suits her exactly.'
But as she hurried on after her father she had time for reflection;
plainly the easy-mannered Mr. Alan Howard had renamed his mare only
this very morning; as plainly had he in the first place called her
Sanchia in honour of some other friend or chance acquaintance. Helen
wondered vaguely who the original Sanchia was. To her imagination the
name suggested a slim, big-eyed Mexican girl. She found time to wonder
further how many times Mr. Howard had named his horse.
They skirted a hill, dipped into the hollow which gave passageway
between this hill and its twin neighbour, mounted briefly, and within
twenty minutes came to the pool about which legends flocked. From
their vantage point they looked down upon it. The sun searched it out
almost at the instant that their eyes caught the glint of it. Fed by
many hidden springs it was a still, smooth body of water in the bowl of
the hills; it looked cool and deep and had its own air of mystery; in
its ancient bosom it may have hidden bones or gold. Some devotee had
planted a weeping willow here long ago; the great tree now flourished
and cast its reflection across its own fallen leaves.
Helen's eyes dreamed and sought visions; the spot touched her with its
romance, and she, after the true style of youth, lent aid to the still
influences. Alan Howard, to whom this was scarcely other than an
everyday matter, turned naturally to the new and was content to watch
the girl. As for Longstreet, his regard was busied with the stones at
his feet, and thereafter with a washout upon a hill-side where the
formation of the hills themselves was laid bare to a scientific eye.
'There's gold everywhere about here,' he announced placidly. 'But not
in the quantities I have promised you, Helen. We'll go on to the Last
Ridge country before we stop.'
Howard turned from the daughter to consider the father long and
searchingly, after the way of one man seeking another's measure.
'As a rule I go kind of slow when it comes to cutting in on another
fellow's play,' he said bluntly. 'But I'm going to chip in now with
this: I know that Last Ridge country from horn to tail, and all the
gold that's in it or has ever been in it wouldn't buy a drink of bad
whisky in Poco Poco.'
The light of forensic battle leaped up bright and eager in Longstreet's
eyes. But Howard saw it, and before the professor's unshaken
positiveness could pour itself forth in a forensic flood the rancher
cut the whole matter short by saying crisply:
'I know. And it's up to you. I've shot my volley to give you the
right slant and you can play out your string your own way. Right now
we'd better be moseying on; the sun's climbing, partner.'
He passed by them, leading his mare toward a crease in the hills which
gave ready passage out of the bowl and again to the sweep of the
desert. Longstreet dropped in behind him, driving his two horses,
while Helen stood a little alone by the pool, looking at it with eyes
which still brooded. In her hatband was a bluebird feather; her
fingers rose to it reminiscently. A faint, dying breeze just barely
stirred the drooping branches of the willow; in one place the graceful
pendant leaves merged with their own reflections below, faintly
blurring them with the slightest of ripples. Here, in the sunlight,
was a languid place of dreams; by mellow, magic moonlight what wonder
if there came hither certain of the last remnants and relics of an old
superstitious people, seeking visions? And an old saw hath it, 'What
ye seek for ye shall find.'
Helen looked up; already Howard had passed out of sight; already her
father's two pack horses had followed the rancher's mare beyond the
brushy flank of the hill and Longstreet himself would be out of her
sight in another moment. She turned a last look upon the still pond
and hurried on.
Now again, as upon yesterday and the day before, the desert seemed
without limit about them. The hot sun mounted; the earth sweltered and
baked and blistered. Heat waves shimmered in the distances; the
distances themselves were withdrawn into the veil of ultimate distances
over which the blazing heat lay in what seemed palpable strata;
crunching rock and gravel in the dry water-courses burned through thick
sole-leather; burning particles of sand got into boots and irritated
the skin; humans and horses toiled on, hour after hour, from early
listlessness to weariness and, before noon, to parched misery. Even
Howard, who confessed that he was little used to walking, admitted that
this sort of thing made no great hit with him. During the forenoon he
again offered his mount to Helen; when she sought to demur and hoped to
be persuaded, he suggested a compromise; they would take turns, she,
her father and himself. By noon, when they camped for lunch and a two
hours' rest, all three had ridden.
Barely perceptibly the sweeps about them had altered during the last
hour before midday. Here and there were low hills dotted occasionally
by trees, covered with sparse dry grass. Here, said Howard, were the
outer fringes of the grazing land; his cattle sometimes strayed as far
as this. The spot chosen for nooning was a suspicion less breathlessly
hot; there was a sluggish spring ringed about with wiry green grass and
shaded by a clump of mongrel trees.
Helen ate little and then lay down and slept. Longstreet, his knees
gathered in his arms, his back to a tree, sat staring thoughtfully
across the billowing country before them; Howard smoked a cigarette,
stood a moment looking curiously down at the weary figure of the girl,
and then strode off to the next shade for his own siesta.
'Rode pretty well all night,' he explained half apologetically to
Longstreet as he went. 'And haven't walked this much since last time.'
Between two and three they started on again. It grew cooler;
constantly as they went forward the earth showed growing signs of
fertility and, here and there, of moisture guarded and treasured under
a shaggy coat of herbage. Within the first hour they glimpsed a number
of scattered cattle and mules; once Helen cried out at the discovery of
a small herd of deer browsing in a shaded draw. Then came a low
divide; upon its crest was an outcropping of rock. Here Howard waited
until his two companions came up with him; from here he pointed,
sweeping his arm widely from north to east and south of east.
'The Last Ridge country, yonder,' he said.
They saw it against the north-eastern horizon. From the base of the
hills on which they stood a broad valley spread out generously.
Marking the valley's northern boundary some half-dozen miles away,
thrown up against the sky like a bulwark, was a long broken ridge like
a wall of cliff, an embankment stained the many colours of the
south-west; red it looked in streaks and yellow and orange and even
lavender and pale elusive green. It swept in a broad, irregular curve
about the further level lands; it was carved and notched along its
crest into strange shapes, here thrusting upward in a single
needle-like tower, there offering to the clear sky a growth like a
monster toadstool, again notched into saw-tooth edges.
'And here,' said Howard, his voice eloquent of his pride of ownership,
'my valley lands. From Last Ridge to the hills across yonder, from
those hills as far as you can see to the south, mile after mile of it,
it's mine, by the Lord! That is,' he amended with a slow smile under
Helen's amazed eyes, 'when I get it all paid for! And there,' he
continued, pointing this time to something white showing through the
green of a grove upon a meadow land far off toward the southern rim of
the valley, 'there is home. You'll know the way; I'm only twelve or
fifteen miles from the Ridge, and so, you see, we're next-door
neighbours.'
To Helen, as she gazed whither his finger led, came a strange,
unaccustomed thrill. For the first time she felt the glory, and forgot
the discomfort, of the hot sun and the hot land. There was a man's
home; set apart from the world and yet sufficient unto itself; here was
a man's holding, one man's, and it was as big and wide as a king's
estate. She looked swiftly at the tall man at her side; it was his or
would be his. And he need not have told her; what she had read in the
timbre of his voice she saw written large in his eyes; they were bright
with the joy of possession.
'Neighbours, folks,' he was saying. 'So let's begin things in
neighbourly style. Come on home with me now; stick over a day or so
resting up. Then I'll send a wagon and a couple of the boys over to
the ridge with you and they'll lend you a hand at digging in for the
length of your stay. It's the sensible thing,' he insisted
argumentatively as he saw how Longstreet's gaze grew eager for the
Ridge. 'And I'd consider it an honour, a high honour.'
'You are extremely kind, sir,' said Longstreet hesitatingly. 'But----'
'Come on,' cut in Howard warmly, his hand on the older man's shoulder.
'Just as a favour to me, neighbour. Everything's plain out our way;
nothing fancy. But I've got clean beds to sleep in and the kitchen
store-room's full and---- Why, man, I've even got a bathtub! Come
ahead; be a sport and take a chance.'
Longstreet smiled; Helen watched him questioningly. Suddenly she
realized that she was a trifle curious about Alan Howard; bath and
clean beds did tempt her weary body, and besides there would be a
certain interest in looking in upon the stranger's establishment. She
wondered for the first time if there were a young Mrs. Howard awaiting
him?
'How about it, Helen?' asked her father. 'Shall we accept further of
this gentleman's kindness?'
'If we were sure,' hesitated Helen, 'that we would not be imposing----'
So it was settled, and Howard, highly pleased, led the way down into
the valley. Making the gradual descent their trail, well marked now by
the shod hoofs of horses, wound into a shady hollow. In the heart of
this where there was a thin trickle of water Howard stopped abruptly.
Helen, who was close to him, heard him mutter something under his
breath and in a new tone of wrath. She looked at him wondering. He
strode across the stream and stopped again; he stooped and she saw what
he had seen; he straightened up and she saw blazing anger in his eyes.
Here, no longer ago than yesterday, a yearling beef had been
slaughtered; the carcass lay half hidden by the bushes.
'Now who the hell did that for me?' cried out the man angrily. 'Look
here; he's killed a beef for a couple of steaks. He's taken that and
left the rest for the buzzards. The low-down, hog-hearted son of a
scurvy coyote.'
Helen held back, frightened at what she read in his face. Her father
came up with her and demanded:
'What is it? What's wrong?'
'Some one has killed one of his cows,' she whispered, catching hold of
his arm. 'I believe he would kill the man who did it.'
Howard was looking about him for signs to tell whence the marauder had
come, whither gone. He picked up a fresh rib bone, that had been
hacked from its place with a heavy knife and then gnawed and broken as
by a wolf's savage teeth. He noted something else; he went to it
hurriedly. Upon a conspicuous rock, held in place by a smaller stone,
was a small rawhide pouch. It was heavy in his palm; he opened it and
poured its contents into his palm. And these contents he showed to
Longstreet and Helen, looking at them wonderingly.
'The gent took what he wanted, but he paid for it,' he said slowly, 'in
enough raw gold to buy half a dozen young beeves! That's fair enough,
isn't it? The chances are he was in a hurry.'
'Maybe,' suggested Helen quickly, 'he was the same man whose camp fire
we found. _He_ was in a hurry.'
Howard pondered but finally shook his head. 'No; that man had bacon
and coffee to leave behind him. It was some other jasper.'
Longstreet was absorbed in another interest. He took the unminted gold
into his own hands, fingering it and studying it.
'It is around here everywhere, my dear,' he told Helen with his old
placid assurance. 'It is quite as I have said; if you want fish, look
for them in the sea; if you seek gold, not in insignificant quantities,
but in a great, thick, rich ledge, come out toward the Last Ridge
country.'
He returned the raw metal to Howard, who dropped it into its bag and
the bag into his pocket. Silent now as each one found company in his
own thoughts, they moved down the slope and into the valley.