If the Eagle Tail mine had been located in Arizona--or even farther
down in Old Mexico--the method of jumping the claim would have been
delightfully simple.
The title had lapsed, and the land had reverted to the government. All
it needed in Arizona was a new set of monuments, a location notice at
the discovery shaft, a pick and shovel thrown into the hole, and a few
legal formalities.
But in Mexico it is different. Not that the legal formalities are
lacking--far from it--but the whole theory of mines and mining is
different. In Mexico a mining title is, in a way, a lease, a concession
from the general government giving the _concessionaire_ the right to
work a certain piece of ground and to hold it as long as he pays a
mining tax of three dollars an acre per year.
But no final papers or patents are ever issued, the possession of the
surface of the ground does not go with the right to mine beneath it,
and in certain parts of Mexico no foreigner can hold title to either
mines or land.
A prohibited or frontier zone, eighty kilometers in width, lies along
the international boundary line, and in that neutral zone no foreigner
can denounce a mining claim and no foreign corporation can acquire a
title to one. The Eagle Tail was just inside the zone.
But--there is always a "but" when you go to a good lawyer--while for
purposes of war and national safety foreigners are not allowed to
hold land along the line, they are at perfect liberty to hold stock
in Mexican corporations owning property within the prohibited zone;
and--here is where the graft comes in--they may even hold title in
their own name if they first obtain express permission from the chief
executive of the republic.
Not having any drag with the chief executive, and not caring to risk
their title to the whims of succeeding administrations, Hooker and De
Lancey, upon the advice of a mining lawyer in Gadsden, had organized
themselves into the Eagle Tail Mining Company, under the laws of the
republic of Mexico, with headquarters at Agua Negra. It was their
plan to get some Mexican to locate the mine for them and then, for a
consideration, transfer it to the company.
The one weak spot in this scheme was the Mexican. By trusting Aragon,
Henry Kruger had not only lost title to his mine, but he had been
outlawed from the republic. And now he had bestowed upon Hooker and De
Lancey the task of finding an honest Mexican, and keeping him honest
until he made the transfer.
While the papers were being made out there might be a great many
temptations placed before that Mexican--either to keep the property for
himself or to hold out for a bigger reward than had been specified.
After his experience with the aristocratic Don Cipriano Aragon y Tres
Palacios, Kruger was in favor of taking a chance on the lower classes.
He had therefore recommended to them one Cruz Mendez, a wood vender
whom he had known and befriended, as the man to play the part.
Cruz Mendez, according to Kruger, was hardworking, sober, and
honest--for a Mexican. He was also simple-minded and easy to handle,
and was the particular man who had sent word that the Eagle Tail had at
last been abandoned. And also he was easy to pick out, being a little,
one-eyed man and going by the name of "El Tuerto."
So, in pursuance of their policy of playing a waiting game, Hooker and
De Lancey hung around the hotel for several days, listening to the
gossip of Don Juan de Dios and watching for one-eyed men with prospects
to sell.
In Sonora he is a poor and unimaginative man indeed who has not at
least one lost mine or "prospecto" to sell; and prosperous-looking
strangers, riding through the country, are often beckoned aside by
half-naked _paisanos_ eager to show them the gold mines of the Spanish
_padres_ for a hundred dollars Mex.
It was only a matter of time, they thought, until Cruz Mendez would
hunt them up and try to sell them the Eagle Tail; and it was their
intention reluctantly to close the bargain with him, for a specified
sum, and then stake him to the denouncement fees and gain possession of
the mine.
As this was a commonplace in the district--no Mexican having capital
enough to work a claim and no American having the right to locate
one--it was a very natural and inconspicuous way of jumping Señor
Aragon y Tres Palacios's abandoned claim. If they discovered the lead
immediately afterward it would pass for a case of fool's luck, or at
least so they hoped, and, riding out a little each day and sitting on
the hotel porch with Don Juan the rest of the time, they waited until
patience seemed no longer a virtue.
"Don Juan," said De Lancey, taking up the probe at last, "I had a
Mexican working for me when we were over in the Sierras--one of your
real, old-time workers that had never been spoiled by an education--and
he was always talking about 'La Fortuna,' I guess this was the place he
meant, but it doesn't look like it--according to him it was a Mexican
town. Maybe he's around here now--his name was Mendez."
"José Maria Mendez?" inquired Don Juan, who was a living directory of
the place. "Ricardo? Pancho? Cruz?"
"Cruz!" cried De Lancey. "That was it!"
"He lives down the river a couple of miles," said Don Juan, "down at
Old Fortuna."
"Old Fortuna!" repeated Phil. "I didn't know there was such a place."
"Why, my gracious!" exclaimed Don Juan de Dios, scandalized by such
ignorance. "Do you mean to say you have been here three days and never
heard about Fortuna Vieja? Why, _this_ isn't Fortuna! This is an
American mining camp--the old town is down below.
"That's where this man Aragon, the big Mexican of the country, has his
ranch and store. Spanish? Him? No, indeed--_mitad_! He is half Spanish
and half Yaqui Indian, but his wife is a pure Spaniard--one of the few
in the country. Her father was from Madrid and she is a Villanueva--a
very beautiful woman in her day, with golden hair and the presence of a
queen!
"No, _not_ Irish! My goodness, you Americans think that everybody
with red hair is Irish! Why, the most beautiful women in Madrid have
chestnut hair as soft as the fur of a dormouse. It is the old Castilian
hair, and they are proud of it. The Señora Aragon married beneath her
station--it was in the City of Mexico, and she did not know that he was
an Indian--but she is a very nice lady for all that and never omits to
bow to me when she comes up to take the train. I remember one time--"
"Does Cruz Mendez work for him?" interjected De Lancey desperately.
"No, indeed!" answered Don Juan patiently. "He packs in wood from the
hills--but as I was saying--" and from that he went on to tell of the
unfailing courtesy of the Señora Aragon to a gentleman whom, whatever
his present station might be, she recognized as a member of one of the
oldest families in Castile.
De Lancey did not press his inquiries any further, but the next
morning, instead of riding back into the hills, he and Bud turned their
faces down the cañon to seek out the elusive Mendez. They had, of
course, been acting a part for Don Juan, since Kruger had described Old
Fortuna and the Señor Aragon with great minuteness.
And now, in the guise of innocent strangers, they rode on down the
river, past the concentrator with its multiple tanks, its gliding
tramway and mountains of tailings, through the village of Indian houses
stuck like dugouts against the barren hill--then along a river-bed that
oozed with slickings until they came in sight of the town.
La Fortuna was an old town, yet not so old as its name, since two
Fortunas before it had been washed away by cloudbursts and replaced
by newer dwellings. The settlement itself was some four hundred years
old, dating back to the days of the Spanish _conquistadores_, when it
yielded up many mule-loads of gold.
The present town was built a little up from the river in the lee of a
great ridge of rocks thrust down from the hill and well calculated to
turn aside a glut of waters. It was a comfortable huddle of whitewashed
adobe buildings set on both sides of a narrow and irregular road--the
great trail that led down to the hot country--and was worn deep by the
pack-trains of centuries.
On the lower side was the ample store and _cantina_ of Don Cipriano,
where the thirsty _arrieros_ could get a drink and buy a _panoche_ of
sugar without getting down from their mounts. Behind the store were the
pole corrals and adobe warehouses and the quarters for the peons, and
across the road was the _mescal_ still where, in huge copper retort and
worm, the fiery liquor was distilled from the sugar-laden heads of
Yuccas.
This was the town, but the most important building--set back in the
shade of mighty cottonwoods and pleasantly aloof from the road--was
the residence of Señor Aragon. It was this, in fact, which held the
undivided attention of De Lancey as they rode quietly through the
village, for he had become accustomed from a long experience in the
tropics to look for something elusive, graceful, and feminine in houses
set back in a garden. Nothing stirred, however, and, having good reason
to avoid Don Cipriano, they jogged steadily on their way.
"Some house!" observed Phil, with a last, hopeful look over his
shoulder.
"Uh," assented Bud, as they came to a fork in the road. "Say," he
continued, "let's turn off on this trail. Lot of burro tracks going
out--expect it's our friend, Mr. Mendez."
"All right," said De Lancey absently. "Wonder where old Aragon keeps
that bee-utiful daughter of his--the one Don Joo-an was telling about.
Have to stop on the way back and sample the old man's _mescal_."
"Nothing doing!" countered Hooker instantly. "Now you heard what I
told you--there's two things you leave alone for sixty days--booze and
women. After we cinch our title you can get as gay as you please."
"Oo-ee!" piped Phil, "hear the boy talk!" But he said no more of wine
and women, for he knew how they do complicate life.
They rode to the east now, following the long, flat footprints of
the burros, and by all the landmarks Bud saw that they were heading
straight for the old Eagle Tail mine. At Old Fortuna the river turns
west and at the same time four cañons come in from the east and south.
Of these they had taken the first to the north and it was leading them
past all the old workings that Kruger had spoken about. In fact, they
were almost at the mine when Hooker swung down suddenly from his horse
and motioned Phil to follow.
"There's some burros coming," he said, glancing back significantly; and
when the pack-train came by, each animal piled high with broken wood,
the two Americans were busily tapping away at a section of country
rock. A man and a boy followed behind the animals, gazing with wonder
at the strangers, and as Phil bade them a pleasant "_Buenos días!_"
they came to a halt and stared at their industry in silence. In the
interval Phil was pleased to note that the old man had only one eye.
"_Que busca?_" the one-eyed one finally inquired. "What are you looking
for?"
And when Phil oracularly answered, "Gold!" the old man made a motion to
the boy to go on and sat down on a neighboring rock.
"Do you want to buy a prospect?" he asked, and Bud glanced up at him
grimly.
"We find our own prospects," answered Phil.
"But I know of a very rich prospect," protested Mendez; "_very rich_!"
He shrilled his voice to express how rich it was.
"Yes?" observed Phil. "Then why don't you dig the gold out? But as for
us, we find our own mines. That is our business."
"_Seguro!_" nodded Mendez, glancing at their outfit approvingly. "But
I am a poor man--very poor--I cannot denounce the mine. So I wait for
some rich American to come and buy it. I have a friend--a very rich
man--in Gadsden, but he will not come; so I will sell it to you."
"Did you get that, Bud?" jested Phil in English. "The old man here
thinks we're rich Americans and he wants to sell us a mine."
Bud laughed silently at this, and Mr. Mendez, his hopes somewhat
blasted by their levity, began to boast of his find, giving the history
of the Eagle Tail with much circumstantiality and explaining that it
was a lost _padre_ mine.
"Sure," observed Phil, going back to his horse and picking up the
bridle, "that's what they all say. They're _all_ lost _padre_ mines,
and you can see them from the door of the church. Come on, Bud, let's
go!"
"And so you could this," cried Mendez, running along after them as they
rode slowly up the cañon, "from the old church that was washed away by
the flood! This is the very mine where the _padres_ dug out all their
gold! Are you going up this way? Come, then, and I will show you--the
very place, except that the _Americano_ ruined it with a blast!"
He tagged along after them, wheedling and protesting while they
bantered him about his mine, until they finally came to the place--the
ruins of the old Eagle Tail.
It lay spraddled out along the hillside, a series of gopher-holes,
dumps, and abandoned workings, looking more like a badly managed
stone-quarry than a relic of _padre_ days. Kruger's magazine of giant
powder exploded in one big blast, had destroyed all traces of his mine,
besides starting an avalanche of loose shale that had poured down and
filled the pocket.
Added to this, Aragon and his men had rooted around in the débris in
search of the vein, and the story of their inefficient work was told
by great piles of loose rock stacked up beside caved-in trenches and a
series of timid tunnels driven into the neighboring ridges.
Under the circumstances it would certainly call for a mining engineer
to locate the lost lead, and De Lancey looked it over thoughtfully as
he began to figure on the work to be done. Undoubtedly there was a mine
there--and the remains of an old Spanish smelter down the creek showed
that the ground had once been very rich--but if Kruger had not told him
in advance he would have passed up the job in a minute.
"Well," he said, turning coldly upon the fawning Mendez, who was all
curves in his desire to please, "where is your prospecto?"
"_Aqui, señor!_" replied the Mexican, pointing to the disrupted
rock-slide. "Here it was that the _Americano_ Crooka had his mine--rich
with gold--_much_ gold!"
He shrilled his voice emphatically, and De Lancey shrilled his in reply.
"Here?" he exclaimed, gazing blankly at the hillside, and then he broke
into a laugh. "All right, my friend," he said, giving Bud a facetious
wink; "how much do you want for this prospect?"
"Four hundred dollars," answered Mendez in a tone at once hopeful and
apologetic. "It is very rich. Señor Crooka shipped some ore that was
full of gold. I packed it out for him on my burros; but, I am sorry, I
have no piece of it."
"Yes," responded De Lancey, "I am sorry, too. So, of course, we cannot
buy the prospecto since you have no ore to show; but I am glad for
this, Señor Mendez," he continued with a kindly smile; "it shows that
you are an honest man, or you would have stolen a piece of ore from the
sacks. So show us now where the gold was found, the nearest that you
can remember, and perhaps, if we think we can find it, we will pay you
to denounce the claim for us."
At this the one good eye of Cruz Mendez lighted up with a great hope
and, skipping lightly over the rock-piles with his sandaled feet, he
ran to a certain spot, locating it by looking across the cañon and up
and down the creek.
"Here, _señores_," he pronounced, "is where the mouth of the old tunnel
came out. Standing inside it I could see that tree over there, and
looking down the river I could just see the smelter around the point.
So, then, the gold must be in there." He pointed toward the hill.
"Surely," said De Lancey; "but where?"
The old Mexican shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
"I do not know, _señor_," he answered; "but if you wish to dig I will
denounce the claim for you."
"For how much?" inquired De Lancey guardedly.
"For one hundred dollars," answered Mendez, and to his delight the
American seemed to be considering it. He walked back and forth across
the slide, picking up rocks and looking at them, dropping down into
the futile trenches of Aragon, and frowning with studious thought. His
pardner, however, sat listlessly on a boulder and tested the action of
his six-shooter.
"Listen, my friend," said De Lancey, coming back and poising his finger
impressively. "If I should find the ledge the one hundred dollars
would be nothing to me, _sabe_? And if I should spend all my money for
nothing it would be but one hundred dollars more. But listen! I have
known some false Mexicans who, when an American paid them to denounce a
mine, took advantage of his kindness and refused to give it over. Or,
if it turned out to be rich, they pulled a long face and claimed that
they ought to be paid more. Now if--"
"Ah, no, no, _señor_!" clamored Mendez, holding up his hand in protest.
"I am a poor man, but I am honest. Only give me the hundred dollars--"
"Not a dollar do you get!" cried De Lancey sternly; "not a
dollar--until you turn over the concession to the mine. And if you play
us false--" he paused impressively--"_cuidado, hombre_--look out!"
Once more Cruz Mendez protested his honesty and his fidelity to any
trust, but De Lancey silenced him impatiently.
"Enough, _hombre_!" he said. "Words are nothing to us. Do you see my
friend over there?" He pointed to Bud who, huge and dominating against
the sky-line, sat toying with his pistol. "_Buen'!_ He is a cowboy,
_sabe_? A Texan! You know the _Tejanos_, eh? They do not like Mexicans.
But my friend there, he likes Mexicans--when they are honest. If
not--no! Hey, Bud," he called in English, "what would you do to this
fellow if he beat us out of the mine?"
Bud turned upon them with a slow, good-natured smile.
"Oh, nothing much," he answered, putting up his gun; and the deep
rumble of his voice struck fear into the old man's heart.
Phil laughed and looked grimly at Mendez while he delivered his
ultimatum.
"Very well, my friend," he said. "We will stay and look at this mine.
If we think it is good we will take you to the mining agent and get a
permit to dig. For sixty days we will dig, and if we find nothing we
will pay you fifty dollars, anyway. If we find the ledge we will give
you a hundred dollars. All right?"
"_Sí, señor--sí, señor!_" cried Mendez, "one hundred dollars!"
"When you give us the papers!" warned Phil. "But remember--be careful!
The Americans do not like men who talk. And come to the hotel at
Fortuna to-morrow--then we will let you know."
"And you will buy the mine?" begged Mendez, backing off with his hat in
his hand.
"Perhaps," answered De Lancey. "We will tell you to-morrow."
"_Buen'!_" bowed Mendez. "And many thanks!"
"It is nothing," replied De Lancey politely, and then with a crooked
smile he gazed after the old man as he went hurrying off down the cañon.
"Well," he observed, "I guess we've got Mr. Mendez started just about
right--what? Now if we can keep him without the price of a drink until
we get out papers we stand a chance to win."
"That's right," said Bud; "but I wish he had two good eyes. I knowed a
one-eyed Mex up in Arizona and he was sure a thieving son of a goat!"