Adventure, June 1911 — page 94: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

280 made the kill near camp, for both sheep were very heavy. I went in with one, staggering under the heavy load. Charlie was dis- gusted. | . ‘What for you shoot ole he one?” he snorted. 3 a “When I got my breath I said, ‘‘For the horns, Charlie; they will make such splendid ffophies.” ~ “We no eat horn!” he asseverated sourly. “That is true, Charlie,” said I, ‘but just ink of the immense satisfaction of the trophies!” *After ruminating over this strange view of hunting, Charlie’s native gentility came to his aid. He smiled wanly and then said hopefully, ‘‘Mebbe you sell ’m horn to Tenderfoot.” ““Mebbe so,”’ I conceded weakly. Going up to the spring for water, I shot a mountain lion. J came very near not seeing him as he crept away among the rocks. He, too, had gone for water, to find death at the hands of a strange creature that he had never seen before. No more juicy fawns for his lionship! His skin isn’t overfine, but maybe I can “‘sell ’m to Tenderfoot.” ee the sheep. They made a full gunny- sack of jerky. The meat is fat, savory and tender, so I have risen in Charlie’s esteem. We have neighbors! Four lean, dirty, Mexican pearl-fishers, from Muleje. They beat around the point of rocks about 3 P. M., saw our smoke and steered for our boat. When near, one of them called out to know if we had found fresh water. On our reply- ing in the affirmative, they landed. When they were ashore they came up to shake hands. We picked up our rifles and de- clined this honor, contenting ourselves with directing them to the spring. This is a lone place, far from courts of justice. They each carry a long knife and their looks are very villainous, and our boat and outfit are very desirable to such as these, so we are warily polite, knowing that dead “ Gringos”’ tell no tales. They unloaded four water-kegs and started for the spring. When they returned I called one of them over and gave him some jerked meat, some coffee and tobacco. After a mellowing-up smoke he became very communicative. ‘‘ Down the coast,” said he, ‘‘where two sharp rocks project from the sea, there is much oro [gold].”’ Nov. 2t1—We have jerked both of Adventure Why didn’t they dig it out? They were only pearl-fishers and knew nothing about gold-mining. He had seen the grains of gold, however, in the sands of a dry gulch. “Ts there any fresh water there?”’ “No water.” “How far is it?” “Two days’ sail, if the wind is good.” “Where are you going?” “Back to Muleje, with our pearls.” He here undid a greasy belt and showed us some . really beautiful pearls. He frankly ad- mitted that they were poachers. God, said he, had made the sea and the pearl-oyster. A bad Government had sold the pearl monopoly to English and French pearl- companies, thus depriving the poor of a natural right. He, for one, did not concur, so: he poached. “This pearl,” said he, ‘‘is worth at least 600 pesos, yet we will get scarcely 200 pesos for it, since we are con- strained to sell our pearls to illicit pearl- © buyers, who cheat us.”” He would, however, sell it to us, very cheap. We thanked him, but declined on the ‘plea of poverty. He sniffed incredulously, and then took his de- parture, after bidding us good-night and thanking us for the food. — That night I slept all night, while Charlie watched. He was to have awakened me at midnight for my turn, but he did not do so, for Charlie is, as I said, a gentleman. Nov. 22—They went away at dawn— back down the Lower California coast. When they were decently around the point, I took the 30-30 carbine and slipped out on the farther rocks to see that they really went. When I peered cautiously over the last rock, they were a mile away, under full sail for the south. I sat on the rocks and watched the sunrise. Almighty God, how wonderful are Thy works! Out from the bosom of a silver sea rose the sun in spotless splendor; far out at sea, a school of whales played and gam- boled, spouting into the air streams of spun silver, then diving, to reappear farther on. The boat of the Mexicans became a mere dot on the southern horizon. I was glad to be alive, for was not the world beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! I went back to Charlie, and a steaming pot of coffee. “‘Gone?” | Yes, really gone. Did he believe the story about the gold? Yes, he believed it, for Captain Polhemus, COmmiclbooks (C@