“Four more expeditions were sent out during the next twenty years, with engineers, maps, and all sorts of instruments. It was all in vain. Well, boys, to make a long story short, the mine was never located again,” Howard concluded.
One of the two youngsters broke in: “I don’t believe that this mine can’t be located. I feel positive it could be found even today.”
“Provided,” said Dobbs, “it ever was there. All we have is a tale about it, but no proof.”
The other youngster said: “Right you are, mister. This happened anyhow a hundred and fifty years ago. What do we know about those ancient times? I say the same: there is no proof, and there never will be any proof.”
Howard, in his slow way, spoke again: “You are all wrong, boys. There is proof, or I wouldn’t have told you that story. And there is plenty of proof. The mine did exist. It is still there where it was buried by the Indians. Because it was found not so long ago.”
“How? Tell us. Come on.” The two youngsters became excited at once.
“Easy, fellows, I’ll tell you the rest of the story sure enough. Because here and now is where my old pal Harry Tilton comes in.
“The massacre I was telling you about happened in 1762—a long time ago. But the mine never disappeared from the minds of those who were interested in gold and silver mines, including the lost ones.
“Scores of men have gone nuts trying to locate that mine. Fact is, the mine has never been left alone. That is to say, there have always been adventurers during all these hundred and how many years who have sacrificed their money, their health, and their lives to find the spot again.
“A particularly big start was made when Arizona was annexed to the United States. A whole hundred were once out all at the same time. Some never came back. They died on the desert or fell from the rocks. A dozen were found gone crazy with thirst by a searching party. Another dozen came home sick or entirely broken down.
“Luck is often very friendly to the uninitiated and to those who never think of chasing luck. At least so it seems, and I have quite a number of proofs of that.
“It was in the seventies when three college boys went on a long vacation trip to see the country first-hand. They roamed about Arizona. One night they came to a small town, and, not finding any other lodging, they were taken in by a father who was the priest in that town populated mainly by American-Mexicans.
“The priest liked them and asked them to stay for a few days, since there was pretty hiking-country all around.
“One day, looking about the library of the father, they discovered a number of old maps of this part of the country and part of northern Sonora. One of the maps indicated a mine which was named La Mina Agua Verde. When they asked the father about this, he told them the story of this mine. He admitted that the mine was one of the richest known, but said that it was surely cursed, whether by the ancient owners, the Indians, or by the Almighty he would not venture to say. But cursed it was. Whoever went near this mine was sure to be overtaken by misfortune. He would not advise anybody to look for it. And he himself would be the very last person to try to locate it, since his aims were not worldly.
“Next day the father had to attend a funeral. WThile he was away the three boys made a careful copy of the map, sure that they would be able to find the spot as easily as their college building at home.
“Having returned from their vacation, they talked about what they were after to more experienced men who had the means to capitalize the expedition and who were anxious to enter into a Partnership.
“The expedition marched off, fifteen members, the three college boys the youngest, the others ranging between twenty—two and forty.
“The map was all right. No mistake. But upon coming to the spot indicated, everything looked different from what they had expected when they studied the map at home. Three mountain peaks peculiarly formed were there as sketched on the map. Also the peak of a certain other mountain was clearly seen, the one that had to be in a right angle with the three other peaks to give the exact position of a certain site. But big trees and huge rocks necessary to make the position final were either missing or so located that they did not fit in with certain other very definite landmarks.
“They dug deep and wide, they blasted with dynamite every piece of rock which looked suspicious. In one spot they dug for a hundred feet because one of the party conceived the idea that the Indians had covered the mine with mountains of earth and that deep down on this certain spot they would find the little lake. The calculation proved wrong, as had all others.
“It cannot be said that they went about their job without plans. After they had worked for two weeks in a more general way, they changed plans again. Now five gangs were formed, each having three members. Each gang went out in a different direction, with the help of the map. After working for three days, all the gangs joined late in the afternoon and stayed together for the whole night, using this joint camp to discuss their finds and thoughts and experiences of the last three days, and by doing so to form new plans.
“Weeks passed. Provisions became short. Work was hard; the sun maddening. The whole outlook was desperate. The situation was truly heartbreaking. Nevertheless the men did not falter. Nobody gave up. Not so much because of faith in the outcome as because of fear and envy. Everyone was afraid to leave, fearing that as soon as he gave up, the others might make the lucky hit. There was nothing to do but stick it out.
“Then one day, late in the afternoon, those in one group were sitting around their fire waiting for supper. The coffee would not boil because a strong wind blew the flame away, so one of the boys dug another fire-hole near by, deeper and better protected against the draft.
“When he had the hole about a foot and a half down, he came upon a bone. He pulled it out and threw it away, hardly looking at it. The hole ready, fire was laid in, and soon supper was ready.
“As they were eating their meal in leisure, one of the boys happened to see that bone, picked it up, and began to scratch figures in the sand.
“Suddenly Stud said: ‘Let’s see what you’ve got there.’ He examined it and remarked: ‘I’ll be damned if that isn’t the bone of a man’s arm. Where did you pick it up?’
“‘Right here where I dug the hole.’
“‘The whole skeleton ought to be there.’ Stud meditated for a while and then said: ‘We’d better hit the hay. It was a hard day.’
“Night had fallen. They wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down.
“Next morning, while having breakfast, Stud said: ‘This bone we found last night sets me thinking. In fact, I’ve thought it over all night long, how that skeleton came to be here.’
“‘Easy,’ Bill answered; ‘somebody kicked off here or was slain or died of hunger or thirst.’
“‘You may be right,’ Stud admitted; ‘many have roamed around here. But for the love of an old penny I can’t quite figure why they should have been killed or died right here. There must be a reason, or let’s say a certain justification. There has come into my mind the idea that, since none of the Spaniards was ever found, dead or alive, it is possible that the whole mine with all the men was covered inside of a few minutes by a sandstorm or by a mountain slide or by an earthquake. Our map is all right, so I figure the landscape has been changed by some natural disaster. Mountains may have disappeared entirely or broken in two or flattened out.’