The Treasure OfThe Sierra Madre

“What’s the hurry, pal? You’ll get your dough all right, don’t you worry a bit. I won’t run away with it. You’re again on my next contract I have with the Mex Gulf. Sure you are.”

“Now look here, Pat,” said Dobbs, “I haven’t got a cent even to buy me a new shirt. I look like the worst bum.”

“Now don’t you cry out for mother here,” Pat tried to quiet him. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll let you have thirty per cent of your pay. That’s all I can do for you. And don’t you tell the others.”

Dobbs learned that none of the other boys had received his wages in full. Two who were eager to be with Pat on the next contract again had asked very humbly “at least a little, please, Mr. Pat,” and they were awarded five per cent, so that they could have a few meals; they had not eaten since they had returned to town.

11

Within a few days Dobbs had heard many tales about Pat McCormick. Pat was known not to pay cash to his men if he could avoid it. This was one of the reasons that he seldom had an American with him on a contract. Only foreigners and halfbaked Americans fell for him. Most of them were glad to go with him any time he hollered. They had their meals because Pat paid the Chinese cook for catering as advance on the wages for the boys. And usually he paid something in cash when the boys he owed were running after him and crying that they had no money for eats and for beds.

One afternoon when Dobbs was drinking a glass of coffee at the bar of the Spanish cafe on the plaza, Curtin, passing by, saw him and stepped up.

“I might as well have coffee too. What you doing, Dobble?”

Curtin, who was from California, had worked for Pat with Dobbs.

“Did you get your money?” Dobbs asked.

“Forty per cent is all I’ve squeezed out of that bandit so far.”

“I’d like to know one thing—if he has collected the pay for the contract—that’s what I would like to know,” Dobbs said.

“Rather difficult to find out,” answered Curtin. “The companies are often a bit slow in paying the contracts. Often they are short of ready cash, since the funds they have here in the republic are all taken up for drilling-expenses or for paying out options unexpectedly acquired.”

“You’ve got no idea, Cuts, for which company the contract was?”

“Not even a touch. Could just as well have been for an outsider, a private party that wants to try his luck in oil. What do I know?” Curtin said.

For a whole week Dobbs and Curtin had been running after Pat. He could not be found anywhere. At the Bristol Hotel, where he usually lived, the clerk knew nothing about him.

“He’s hiding out somewhere to get away with the money,” Curtin thought. “He knows that we can’t hang around here all the time. So he waits for the moment that we take another job; then he comes out of his hole.”

Dobbs, after another gulp of coffee, said: “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that guy uses our money to speculate with in some new well. He’s got tips all the way to the Alamo and to the Ebano sections.”

This idea made Curtin hot. “That guy’s going to learn something from me. Just let me catch him.”

At that very instant Pat McCormick strolled across the plaza, with a Mexican dame at his side who was flashing a new dress, elegant shoes, and a new colorful silk umbrella.

“What do you think of that?” Dobbs asked. “Rags paid for with our hard-earned money.”

“Let’s get him, right now,” Curtin hollered, “and let’s get him hard this time.”

As quick as the devil Curtin was at Pat’s side, and with him was Dobbs.

Curtin caught Pat by the shirt-sleeve, for he was wearing no coat.

“How are you, boys? Want a drink?” Pat tried to be friendly.

Then he noticed that these two men were deadly serious, so he said to the dame: “Perdone me, shiucksy dear, mi vida, I’ve got some business to attend to with these two gentlemen. I’ll take you over to that cafe. You wait there for me a while, honey.”

He steered her to the colonnades of the Light and Power building, ordered a sundae for her, patted her on the back, and said: “Just wait here, mi dulce, I won’t be long, only a few minutes, no mas que unos minutos, sure.”

Dobbs and Curtin waited only a few feet away.

Pat came strolling down the few steps and down the street along the plaza as though he were alone. Seeing that the two fellows did not leave him, but kept close by his side, he halted before the W.U. cable office and said: “Let’s have a drink, it’s on me.”

“Okay,” Curtin gave in. “Let’s have one. But you understand that’s not why we’re after you.”

They stepped into the Madrid cantina, and Pat ordered three shots of Scotch.

“Make mine a Hennessy,” Dobbs said to the bartender.

“Make it two,” from Curtin.

“Scotch is still good enough for me.” Pat repeated his order for himself.

When the drinks were before them Pat asked: “Now, what do you want? Sure, I take you on my next contract. Don’t you worry.”

“Don’t play innocent; you know what we want.” Dobbs came to the point.