“Bueno; now for my discovery! I several times filled my batea with gravel from the dry bed and washed it in one of the pools. I got only a few scattered colors. But as I dug along the margin of the bed I noticed what seemed to be pieces of adobe bricks. I went on up one side of the bowl-shaped glen, and found many such pieces, and in some places stones that had served as foundations for houses at one time. So I knew that there had been a town there, long, long ago. But it must have been an Indian village, for had it been known to the Spaniards I surely would have learned of it from my parents. The ground higher up was strewn with the broken bricks. I picked up many of the pieces and examined them. Almost every one showed a color or two of gold; but not enough to pay washing the clay from which they had been made. But––and here is the end of my story––I have said that this open space was shaped like a bowl, with all sides dipping sharply to the center. It occurred to me that in the years––who knows how many?––that have passed since this town was abandoned, the heavy rains that had dissolved the mud bricks also must have washed the mud and the gold it carried down into the center of this basin, where, with great quantities of water sweeping over it every rainy season, the clay and sand would gradually wash out, leaving the gold concentrated in the center.”
The old man stopped to light the thick cigar which he had rolled during his recital.
“Caramba! Padre, it was a lucky thought! I located the center of the big bowl as nearly as possible, and began to dig. I washed some of the dirt taken a foot or two below the surface. Hombre! it left a string of gold clear around the batea! I became so excited I could scarcely dig. Every batea, as I got deeper and deeper, yielded more and more gold! I hurried back to the Tiguí for my supplies; and then camped up there and washed the sand and clay for two weeks, until I had to come back to Simití for food. Forty pesos oro in fifteen days! Caramba! And there is more. And all concentrated from the mud bricks of that old, forgotten town in the mountains, miles back of Popales! May the Virgin bless that deer and mend its hurt leg!”
One hundred and sixty francs in shining gold flakes! And who knew how much more to be had for the digging!
“Ah, Padre,” mused Rosendo, “it is wonderful how things turn out––that is, when, as the little Carmen says, you think right! I thought I’d find it––I knew it was right! And here it is! Caramba!”
At the mention of Carmen’s name Josè again became troubled. Rosendo as yet did not know of Diego’s presence in Simití. Should he tell him? It might lead to murder. Rosendo would learn of it soon enough; and Josè dared not cast a blight upon the happiness of this rare moment. He would wait.
As they sat reunited at the supper table in Rosendo’s house, a constant stream of townspeople passed and repassed the door, some stopping to greet the returned prospector, others lingering to witness Rosendo’s conduct when he should learn of Diego’s presence in the town, although no one would tell him of it. The atmosphere was tense with suppressed excitement, and Josè trembled with dread. Doña Maria moved quietly about, giving no hint of the secret she carried. Carmen laughed and chatted, but did not again mention the man from whose presence she had fled to the shales that morning. Who could doubt that in the midst of the prevalent mental confusion she had gone out there “to think”? And having performed that duty, she had, as usual, left her problem with her immanent God.
“I will go up and settle with Don Mario this very night,” Rosendo abruptly announced, as they rose from the table.
“Not yet, friend!” cried Josè quickly. “Lázaro has told you of the revolution; and we have many plans to consider, now that we have found gold. Come with me to the shales. We will not be interrupted there. We can slip out through the rear door, and so avoid these curious people. I have much to discuss with you.”