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If he was to lose his new job he did not mean that it should be from inattention, and nothing was too trifling for his notice. He would do the work of a range boss twelve hours out of the day, and then put in extra time on a night ride to the cantina at the south wells of La Partida.
But as the work moved north and the consignment of horses for France made practically complete, old Cap Pike rode down to Granados corrals, and after contemplation of the various activities of Rhodes, climbed up on the corral fence beside him, where the latter was checking off the accepted animals.
Youre a cheerful idiot for work, Bub, agreed the old man, but what the devil do you gain by doing so much of the other fellows job? Pancho Martinez wasnt sick as he played off on you; youre green to these Mexican tricks.
Sure, Im the original Green from Greenburg, assented his new companero. Pancho was only more than usually drunk last night, while I was fresh as a daisy and eager to enlarge my geographic knowledge, also my linguistics, Hi! Pedro! not the sorrel mare! Cut her out!
Linguistics? repeated Pike impatiently.
Yeh, nice little woman in the cantina at La Partida wells. I am a willing pupil at Spanish love songs, and we get along fine. I am already a howling success at La Paloma, La Golondrina, and a few other sentimental birds.
Oh, you are, are you? queried Pike. Well, take a warning. Youll get a knife in your back from her man one of these fine nights, and the song will be Adios, adios amores for you!
Nothing doing, Cap! We play malilla for the drinks, and I work it so that he beats me two out of three. Im so easy Im not worth watching. Women dont fancy fools, so Im safe.
Well, Ill be strafed by the Dutch! Pike stared at the young fellow, frowning in perplexity. You sure have me puzzled, Bub. Are you a hopeless dunce by training or nature?
Natural product, grinned K. Rhodes cheerfully. Beauty unadorned. Say Cap, tell me something. What is the attraction for friend Conrad south of La Partida? I seem to run against a stone wall when I try to feel out the natives on that point. Now just what lies south, and whose territory?
The old man looked at him with a new keenness.
For your sort of an idiot youve blundered on a big interrogation point, he observed. Did you meet him down there?
No, only heard his voice in the night. Its not very easy to mistake that velvety blood-puddin voice of his, and a team went down to meet him. He seems to go down by another route, railroad I reckon, and comes in by the south ranch. Now just what is south?
The ranches of Soledad grant join La Partida, or aim to. There are no maps, and no one here knows how far down over the border the Partida leagues do reach. Soledad was an old mission site, and a fortified hacienda back in the days of Juarez. Its owner was convicted of treason during Diaz reign, executed, and the ranches confiscated. It is now in the hands of a Federal politician who is safer in Hermosillo. The revolutionists are thick even among the pacificos up here, but the Federals have the most ammunition, and the gods of war are with the guns.
Sure; and who is the Federal politician? No, not that colt, Marcito!
Perez, Don José Perez, stated Pike, giving no heed to corral interpolations. He claims more leagues than have ever been reckoned or surveyed, took in several Indian rancherias last year when the natives were rounded up and shipped to Yucatan.
What?
Oh, he is in that slave trade good and plenty! They say he is sore on the Yaquis because he lost a lot of money on a boat load that committed suicide as they were sailing from Guaymas.
A boat load of suicides! Now a couple of dozen would sound reasonable, but a boat load
But it happened to every Indian on the boat, and the boat was full! No one knows how the poor devils decided it, but it was their only escape from slavery, and they went over the side like a school of fish. Men, women, and children from the desert who couldnt swim a stroke! Talk about nervethere wasnt one weakling in that whole outfit, not one! Perez was wild. It lost him sixty dollars a head, American.
And thats the neighbor friend Conrad takes a run down south to see occasionally?
Who says so, Bub?
The two looked at each other, eyes questioning.
Look here, son, said Pike, after a little, Ill hit any trail with you barring Mexican politics. They all sell each other out as regular as the seasons swing around, and the man north of the line who gets tangled is sure to be victim if he stays in long enough.
Oh, I dont know! We have a statesman or two who flirted with Sonora and came out ahead.
I said if he stayed in, reminded Pike. Sure we have crooks galore who drift across, play a cut-throat game and skip back to cover. The border is lined with them on both sides. And Conrad
But Conrad isnt in politics.
N-no. Theres no evidence that he is, but his Mexican friends are. There are men on the Granados now who used to be down on Soledad, and they are the men who make the trips with him to the lower ranch.
Tomas Herrara and Chico Domingo?
I reckon youve sized them up, but remember, Kit, I dont cross over with you for any political game, and I dont know a thing!
All right, Captain, but dont raise too loud a howl if I fancy a pasear occasionally to improve my Spanish.
The old man grumbled direful and profane prophecies as to things likely to happen to students of Spanish love songs in Sonora, and then sat with his head on one side studying Kit ruminatively as he made his notes of the selected stock.
Ye know Bub, it mightnt be so bad at that, if you called a halt in time, for one of the lost mine trails calls for Spanish and plenty of it. Ive got a working knowledge, but the farther you travel into Sonora the less American you will hear, and that lost mine of the old padres is down there along the ranges of Soledad somewhere.
Which one of the fifty-seven varieties have you elected to uncover first? queried Rhodes. The last time you were confidential about mines I thought the Three Hills of Gold were mentioned by you.
Sure it was, but since you are on the Sonora end of the ranch, and since you are picking up your ears to learn Sonoran trails, it might be a good time to follow your luck. Say, Ill bet that every herder who drifts into the cantina at La Partida has heard of the red gold of El Alisal. The Yaquis used to know where it was before so many of them were killed off; reckon its lost good and plenty now, but nothing is hid forever and its waiting there for some man with the luck.
Were willing, grinned Kit. You are a great little old dreamer, Captain. And there is a fair chance I may range down there. I met a chap named Whitely from over toward the Painted Hills north of Altar. Ranch manager, sort of friendly.
Sure, Tom Whitely has some stock in a ranch over therethe Mesa Blanca ranchit joins Soledad on the west. Ive always aimed to range that way, but the lost mine is closer than the eastern sierrasmust be! The trail of the early padres was farther east, and the mine could not well be far from the trail, not more than a days journey by mule or burro, and thats about twenty miles. You see Bub, it was found by a padre who wandered off the trail on the way to a little branch mission, or visita, as they call it, and it was where trees grew, for a big alisal treesycamore you knowwas near the outcrop of that red gold. Well, that visita was where the padres only visited the heathen for baptism and such things; no church was built there! Thats what tangles the trail for anyone trying to find traces after a hundred years.