Yet, from whatever angle he looked at the accusation Dobbs had made against him, he found it the dirtiest he could think of. There was no excuse for such a thing as Dobbs had proposed.
This brought him a new thought. If Dobbs could accuse his partner of such intentions, it was proof of Dobbs’s shabby character, now revealed in full for the first time. If Dobbs had such thoughts, then Curtin must look out for his own safety. Dobbs would not hesitate to try to get for himself all that he accused Curtin of trying to get.
Curtin could now see that in the future he would have to fight constantly not only for his property, but for his very life. Realization of this dulled Curtin’s eyes as he stared at the fire. He saw danger lurking, and he knew he could not elude it.
He was helpless, Curtin was. He had no means of protecting himself against Dobbs. For four or five, perhaps even six or seven days, they would still be alone together here in the mountains, wild, desolate, and forsaken as few other mountain regions in the world are. The two might meet somebody on the trails, but that would not mean security for Curtin. For a few pesos Dobbs could easily persuade anyone to take his side. If they met no one, so much the better for Dobbs. Curtin might pass one night on guard against Dobbs, but during the next night he would surely fall asleep and sleep harder than ever. Then Dobbs would not even need to waste a bullet on him. He could bind him tight or knock him cold and then dig him in. He need not even trouble to crush his head; he could just bury him alive if he wished.
There was only one way out of this danger. Curtin had to do to Dobbs what Dobbs had in mind against Curtin. There was no other way of escape.
“I don’t want to have his dirt,” Curtin thought; “his dirt may rot in the bush for all I care. My life is worth just as much to me as his is to him.”
He looked for his pipe, which had dropped on the ground. His right hand rested on his right knee as he bent down to pick up his pipe. With a slow gesture he moved his right hand toward his body and let it slide toward his hip. But before his hand reached the holster, Dobbs had his own gun out.
“Another move, brother, and I pull the trig.”
Curtin kept his hands where they were.
“Stick ‘em up! Up, up!” Dobbs shouted.
Curtin raised his hands to his head.
“Higher, please, or I’ll pluck you off like a shot from hell.”
Dobbs smiled, satisfied, and nodded his head. “Was I right or was I? Didn’t I judge you right, son of a stinking dog? Talking big, hi? Talking Bolshevik Sunday school. You can’t smoke me, brother, with sweet love-songs. Nope, not me. Protecting other people’s goods. You!” Dobbs changed his tone and yelled: “Stand up, you skunk, and take it like a man.”
Curtin rose slowly to his feet, and, with his hands still up in the air, turned round. Dobbs reached for Curtin’s gun. And as Dobbs grabbed the gun, his own gun went off, because he had had the trigger rather loose. For a fraction of a second Dobbs was surprised, and Curtin, feeling by instinct that Dobbs was off his guard for a quarter of a second, jerked about and landed Dobbs a good hook on the jaw, knocking him to the ground. He threw himself upon Dobbs quickly and disarmed him. Then he sprang up and stepped a few paces back with two guns pointed at the rising Dobbs.
“Cards are now dealt the other way, Dobby,” Curtin said, and laughed.
“So I see.” Dobbs was on his feet. He knew Curtin would not shoot him when he had no gun in his hand. It gave him a curious taste in his mouth to realize that Curtin would play fair, whereas he knew that he himself would not give the other a chance. He wanted to win, no matter how. To admit, even to himself, that Curtin had nobler feelings than he only made Dobbs hate him the more.
“Now look here, Dobby,” Curtin said in a calm and conciliating voice, “you are all wrong. Not for a moment did I ever mean to rob you or to harm you. I would light for you and your stuff just as I shall for the old man.”
“Yes, I know. Fine. If you really mean what you say, then hand over my cannon.”
Curtin laughed out loud. “I’d better not. Little boys shouldn’t play with matches and scissors. Mother spank.”
“I understand,” Dobbs said shortly. He went over to the fire and squatted down.
Curtin emptied Dobbs’s gun, weighed it in his hand, threw it up in the air and caught it cowboy-fashion, and then held it toward Dobbs, hesitated for a second, looked Dobbs in the face, and then put the gun in his own pocket on his left hip. He squatted down by the fire, taking care not to get too close to Dobbs. He took out his pipe, filled and lighted it. After he had taken a few puffs he looked at his pipe as though examining it and said in a casual way: “And that was another day.”
Curtin knew he was not any better off than half an hour before. He could not watch Dobbs day and night for the next five or six days. He would fall asleep sooner or later and Dobbs would get the better of him. Dobbs would show no mercy_now less than before.
Only one of them could survive this trip. He who fell asleep would be the victim of him who kept awake. There would come a night when one of the two would kill the other for no other reason than to gain one night of sleep.
“Wouldn’t it be better under these circumstances,” Curtin finally began, “yes, as I said, wouldn’t it be better, the way it stands, to separate tomorrow, or right now this very night? I earnestly believe that would be the best way of solving this tough problem.”
“Of course it would be the best. I see the whole thing. That would suit you fine.”
“What suit me more than you?” Curtin asked, rather perplexed.
“So that you could fall on me from behind. Stab me or shoot me in the back. Or perhaps tip off bandits and send them after me. You’re a great pal. My pal! Shit!”
“If you think that, then I can’t see any way out of this fix we are in.” Curtin shrugged. “There seems nothing to do but tie you up every night, and during the daytime too.”
“Yes, agreed upon. I think you must, brother of mine,” Dobbs sneered, and stretched his arms as if to show his strength. “Come on, you lousy yellow skunk, come on and tie me up. I’m waiting. Waiting I say; hear me?”
Curtin realized that it would not be easy to tie up Dobbs. He realized also that the only chance he had to overpower Dobbs was now, and that this chance most likely would never come again. But he was afraid to take what he knew was the only road to save himself. In situations like this, Dobbs was the stronger, because he would act upon his impulse and think afterwards.
Chapter 21
A night of horror began for Curtin. Not so for Dobbs. Dobbs had discovered Curtin’s weak spot. Now he felt absolutely safe. He could play hide-and-seek with Curtin.
Curtin had lain down where he could watch Dobbs, and yet far enough away to have sufficient room and time should Dobbs try one of his tricks.
It was difficult for Curtin to stay awake. The march during the day, all on foot, climbing up the steep trails, wading in mud, driving the burros, reloading packs that came loose, and helping the animals over the barrancas, would make the strongest man weary.
When sleep almost overcame him he got up and walked around. He found that this made him still more sleepy. So he tried sitting up. Then he thought it might be better to roll himself in his blanket and keep still, and so give his body a rest. He might make Dobbs believe that he was still watchful while he got a few winks of sleep.