Curtin gave these feelings words. “I suppose Howard is right in what he said day before yesterday. That is, that the best thing we can do is to close the mine, pack up, and leave. Devil knows how long it will be now before we have soldiers coming up here. We might well make another grand by staying here another two weeks or three. Anyway, I am of the opinion we should be thankful for what we have and go home.”
For a few minutes there was no answer. Then Dobbs said: “I had preferred to stay here a few weeks longer, you know. I said so before. Still, come to think of it, it’s all right with me, brethren. Let’s strike the mine and make ready to toddle off. Fact is, I no longer have the slightest ambition to hold on. It’s all gone.”
Howard nodded without saying a word.
Lacaud was smoking. He did not even remind them that they had closed a deal with him to stay for another week at least so as to assist him in trying out his ideas. He seemed to be more concerned about keeping up a good fire than anything else.
Finally Howard looked at him. “Nervous? What for? It seems to be all over now.”
“Oh, I’m not nervous, partner. Not exactly. I don’t know why I should be.” After this he again fell silent.
Perhaps he had been thinking how to arouse their interest once more, so they would stay and help him for a few days. He didn’t wish to come out directly with what he wanted, so he tried another way.
“Did you ever hear the story about the old Ciniega Mine?” He asked this rather suddenly, perhaps too suddenly, for the partners seemed to feel that he was not being straightforward.
Slightly bored, Howard said slowly: “We know so many stories about old mines that we don’t know what to do about.” He had been interrupted in his thoughts of how he would use the money he had earned to live a quiet life in a small town, sitting on the porch smoking and reading the papers, the comic strips, and bunk adventure stories, concerned about his health and about his meals, and going to bed early, with funds to get well soaked at least once a month.
As if he were awakening, he looked up at Lacaud. “The truth is I had forgotten all about you, Laky,” he said.
Curtin laughed. “You see, Laky, we have our own thoughts, and you are not in them. We three have become so accustomed to speaking to each other that we sometimes forget you are here. No harm.”
Dobbs butted in. “It’s only to let you see how unimportant you are, brother. We’ve eaten together, we’ve fought together, we’ve even been very close to going to hell together, but you are still outside of the community, if you get what we mean. We might have come to like each other. But now, I reckon, it’s too late.”
“I get what you mean, Dobbs.”
“That reminds me,” Howard addressed him; “didn’t you say something about a plan?”
“Yes, your plan.” Dobbs spoke up. “Yes, that plan of yours. Well, you may keep it as your well-earned property. I’m not interested a bit. I’ve got the same idea old man Curtin has; to be more exact, I’d like to see a girl and see how she looks underneath, you know, and I have the funny desire to sit once more at a real table in a restaurant with wellcooked food set before me.”
“But can’t you see? Here are tens of thousands of dollars lying about ready to be picked up!”
Curtin yawned. “All right, sweety, pick them up and be happy. Don’t let them lie around here, somebody might come and carry them away. Well, partners, should somebody ask me how I feel right now, I’d say: I’m going to hit the hay in the old barn. Good night.”
Howard and Dobbs rose also, stretched their limbs, yawned with mouths wide open, and walked to the tent.
Curtin, already standing by the tent, called: “Hey, Laky, if you want to bunk with us, the apartment we have here is big enough to house you too. Just step in and don’t slam the door.”
“If you don’t mind, I prefer to sleep here by the fire. I have to think a few schemes over, and I can do it best with the stars above me. Thanks just the same.” Lacaud carried his packs and blankets near the fire. “Only I’d like to put my packs in your tent, in case it should rain.”
“Bring them in,” Howard invited him. “Room enough; no storage charged.”
When the three partners were alone in the tent, Curtin said: “I still can’t see what is wrong about that guy. Sometimes he seems perfectly all right, and then again he seems to be all nuts.”
“Poor feller, he is,” Howard said. “He’s cracked somehow. He hasn’t got all his screws tight. That much is sure. I think he is an eternal.”
“An eternal? What do you mean?” Curtin was curious.
“An eternal prospector. He can stay for ten years at the same place digging and digging, convinced that he is on the right spot and that there can be no mistake about it and that all he needs is patience. He is sure that some day he will make the big hit. He is of the same family as were men in bygone centuries who spent their whole lives and all their money trying to find the formula for producing gold by mixing metals and chemicals—smelting them, cooking them, and brewing them until they themselves turned insane. He is the more modern sort. He is working day in and day out over plans and schemes just as men do who want to bust the banks in a gambling-resort.”
“Tomorrow he will see our mine,” Dobbs said.
“Let him. It doesn’t matter, since we are leaving. We close it properly, and if he should open it again, that’s his affair, not ours. I really feel sorry for that guy.” Howard admitted this. “Really sorry for him. But you can’t cure these fellers, and I suppose if somebody could cure them they wouldn’t like it. They prefer to stay this way. It’s their whole excuse for being alive.”
Dobbs was not fully convinced. He said: “I’m not sure there isn’t something else behind that guy. He doesn’t seem to be all cracked up.”
Howard waved his hands and shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ve met this sort before. Good night.”
Chapter 15
Another week of labor was put in by the partners, during which they worked up all the piles of dirt and rocks which had been ready to be washed. It proved worth while to get out of these piles all they contained. It was good pay. But nevertheless they stuck by their decision to give up. So they began breaking down the mine.
While doing so, Dobbs cut his hand and yelled angrily: “For what hellish reason of yours do we have to work like hunks in a steel-mill to level this field? Just tell me, old man.”
“We decided upon that the day we started to work here,” Howard answered, “didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did. But I say it’s a waste of time, that’s what I think.”
“The Lord might have said it’s only a waste of time to build this earth, if it was He who actually did it. I figure we should be thankful to the mountain which has rewarded our labor so generously. So we shouldn’t leave this place as careless picnic parties and dirty motorists so often do. We have wounded this mountain and I think it is our duty to close its wounds. The silent beauty of this place deserves our respect. Besides, I want to think of this place the way we found it and not as it has been while we were taking away its treasures, which this same mountain has guarded for millions of years. I couldn’t sleep well thinking I had left the mountain looking like a junk-yard. I’m sorry we can’t do this restoration perfectly—that we can do no better than show our good intention and our gratitude. If you two guys won’t help me, I’ll do it all alone, but I shall do it just the same.”