The Treasure OfThe Sierra Madre

When they reached the bush at the base of the Sierra, their curiosity could no longer be restrained. They were eager to know how big the booty was and how much each of them could expect for his share.

It was dark, and the woods made the night still darker, but they did not light a fire. If soldiers or the Rurales were after them, it would be wise to have no fire to guide their pursuers.

They got busy. The burros were unloaded and then the packs were opened. A pickpocket could not have been more excited to learn the contents of a pocketbook or a lady’s handbag than these men were while untying the bundles.

There were more pants, but they were none too good. The few shirts they found were practically rags_-hardly better than the ones they had on. There were two pairs of light shoes, which belonged to Howard and Curtin. There were pans and dishes, and two aluminum pots for coffee and tea. Nothing was good enough to sell, even to the poor, as everything was battered and covered with a thick crust of greasy, hardened soot.

“Looks like that scoundrel really spoke the truth,” Nacho said disappointedly. “Not a cent, save the few pennies he carried in his pants. Seventy-four centavos! All the money we get out of it.”

Pablo was inspecting other things. “The hides are not of the best sort. Very poor. All shot to pieces. A lot of holes make them of hardly any value. Funny sort of a hunter he must have been. Careless in shooting, and he had no idea what to shoot or how to get good hides. Worst of all, they are badly dried up. They are stinking and full of maggots. All the hair is coming off already. We’re lucky if we get twenty pesos for the whole lot. And we won’t get the twenty with a smile either. Maybe no one will take them even as a present.”

Miguel was working about a pack he had opened. He held in his hands a few little bags made of rags and old sackcloth. “I can’t figure what in hell that guy had these funny little bags for.”

He poured the contents into his open hand. “Sand. Nothing but plain sand. Now, what did he carry this sand for?”

The darkness in the bush, lighted slightly by the new moon, made it difficult for the men to examine the sand more closely and recognize what it really was. Even had they known something about gold dust they would not have thought this particular sand of real value, not at this moment, when all their thoughts were occupied in other directions. They were looking for money and for things they could sell easily. As they examined the packs in darkness, trusting to the feel of their fingers and so missing even the faint glitter this dust sometimes shows, it is not strange that they failed to discern its value.

Miguel, the most experienced of the three, had worked in the mines for a few years. He brought forth an explanation: “I see through it all now. He was a sort of mining engineer, that rascal was. He was working for some mining company. Claro, he went exploring for that company and was bringing back with him these samples of dust, sand, ground rocks, and all that, to be examined later by the chemists of his company. If they find something in these samples, then they buy the land and open a mine. Such sand has no value for us. If we took it to a company, we’d have to tell where it was found. What is still worse, it would make them suspicious and they might investigate how we got it. See?”

“Then it’s no good?” Nacho asked.

“Can’t you understand plain Spanish, you mug?” Pablo shouted at him. “Miguel knows. He has worked in mines. He knows more than all these gringo engineers. And you heard what he said. It might easily give us away. Throw it away as quick as you can. It’s hot, too hot for us. My bags are already cleared of that dirt. What’s more, the packs will be less heavy, and so we can get away easier. Get rid of it.”

Nacho offered another explanation. “Miguel, I thought you were so smart, but you aren’t. And I can prove it. You may have worked in mines, but this mug here was the real American fraud and bluffer, a real American cheater, if you ask me. You wonder why these little bags of sand were so well hidden inside the wrapped hides. It’s all clear to me. No riddle any longer. He knew that the hides are sold by their weight, and he was such a dirty cheat that he put these little bags between the hides to make them weigh more. He wanted to sell the hides in bundles, perhaps late at night, somewhere on the plaza. And in the morning when the buyer opened his hides and found out the fraud, my good gringo would be a long way off with the train, saying: ‘Now, come and catch me.’ Well, I think we’ve spoiled his dirty business and saved a poor tanner’s hard-earned money.”

Pablo crouched about his packs, digging into them for better finds. “Who ever thought that these gringos would be such dirty skunks, cheating even a poor Mexican tanner?” he asked himself with a loud voice. “I don’t feel a bit sorry we finished him up and sent him straight to hell.”