The Story of a Mine | Page 7

across the rocky ridge. But what was his
astonishment on arriving to find the place deserted of man, mule, and
camp equipage. Concho called aloud. Only the echoing rocks grimly
answered him. Was it a trick? Concho tried to laugh. Ah-- yes--a good
one,--a joke,--no--no--they HAD deserted him. And then poor Concho
bowed his head to the ground, and falling on his face, cried as if his
honest heart would break.
The tempest passed in a moment; it was not Concho's nature to suffer
long nor brood over an injury. As he raised his head again his eye

caught the shimmer of the quicksilver,--that pool of merry antic metal
that had so delighted him an hour before. In a few moments Concho
was again disporting with it; chasing it here and there, rolling it in his
palms and laughing with boy-like glee at its elusive freaks and fancies.
"Ah, sprightly one,--skipjack,-- there thou goest,--come here. This
way,--now I have thee, little one,--come, muchacha,--come and kiss
me," until he had quite forgotten the defection of his companions. And
even when he shouldered his sorry pack, he was fain to carry his
playmate away with him in his empty leathern flask.
And yet I fancy the sun looked kindly on him as he strode cheerily
down the black mountain side, and his step was none the less free nor
light that he carried with him neither the brilliant prospects nor the
crime of his late comrades.
CHAPTER III
WHO CLAIMED IT
The fog had already closed in on Monterey, and was now rolling, a
white, billowy sea above, that soon shut out the blue breakers below.
Once or twice in descending the mountain Concho had overhung the
cliff and looked down upon the curving horse-shoe of a bay below
him,--distant yet many miles. Earlier in the afternoon he had seen the
gilt cross on the white-faced Mission flare in the sunlight, but now all
was gone. By the time he reached the highway of the town it was quite
dark, and he plunged into the first fonda at the wayside, and
endeavored to forget his woes and his weariness in aguardiente. But
Concho's head ached, and his back ached, and he was so generally
distressed that he bethought him of a medico,-- an American
doctor,--lately come into the town, who had once treated Concho and
his mule with apparently the same medicine, and after the same heroic
fashion. Concho reasoned, not illogically, that if he were to be
physicked at all he ought to get the worth of his money. The grotesque
extravagance of life, of fruit and vegetables, in California was
inconsistent with infinitesimal doses. In Concho's previous illness the
doctor had given him a dozen 4 grain quinine powders.

The following day the grateful Mexican walked into the Doctor's
office--cured. The Doctor was gratified until, on examination, it
appeared that to save trouble, and because his memory was poor,
Concho had taken all the powders in one dose. The Doctor shrugged
his shoulders and--altered his practice.
"Well," said Dr. Guild, as Concho sank down exhaustedly in one of the
Doctor's two chairs, "what now? Have you been sleeping again in the
tule marshes, or are you upset with commissary whisky? Come, have it
out."
But Concho declared that the devil was in his stomach, that Judas
Iscariot had possessed himself of his spine, that imps were in his
forehead, and that his feet had been scourged by Pontius Pilate.
"That means 'blue mass,'" said the Doctor. And gave it to him,--a bolus
as large as a musket ball, and as heavy.
Concho took it on the spot, and turned to go.
"I have no money, Senor Medico."
"Never mind. It's only a dollar, the price of the medicine."
Concho looked guilty at having gulped down so much cash. Then he
said timidly:
"I have no money, but I have got here what is fine and jolly. It is
yours." And he handed over the contents of the precious tin can he had
brought with him.
Tbe Doctor took it, looked at the shivering volatile mass and said,
"Why this is quicksilver!"
Concho laughed, "Yes, very quick silver, so!" and he snapped his
fingers to show its sprightliness.
The Doctor's face grew earnest; "Where did you get this, Concho?" he
finally asked.

"It ran from the pot in the mountains beyond."
The Doctor looked incredulous. Then Concho related the whole story.
"Could you find that spot again?"
"Madre de Dios, yes,--I have a mule there; may the devil fly away with
her!"
"And you say your comrades saw this?"
"Why not?"
"And you say they afterwards left you,--deserted you?"
"They did, ingrates!"
The Doctor arose and shut his office door. "Hark ye, Concho," he said,
"that bit of medicine I gave you just now