He stopped for breath. The little group sat enthralled before him. All but Harris, who was vainly beseeching Reed to translate to him the dramatic story.
“Padre,” continued Rosendo at length, “from what my father had told me I had a vague idea of the location of that mine. And many a weary day I spent hunting for it! Then––then I found it! Ah, Caramba! I wept aloud for joy! It was while I was on the Tiguí, washing gold. I was working near what we used to call Pozo Cayman, opposite La Colorado, where the Frenchmen died. I camped on the lonely bank there, with only the birds and the wondering animals to keep me company. One dark night, as I lay on the ground, I had a dream. I believe in dreams, Padre. I dreamt that the Virgin, all in white, came to me where I lay––that she whispered to me and told me to rise quickly and drive away the devil.
“I awoke suddenly. It was still dark, but a pair of fiery eyes were gleaming at me from the bush. I seized my machete and started after them. It was a jaguar, Padre, and he fled up the hill from me. Why I followed, I know not, unless I thought, still half asleep as I was, that I was obeying the Virgin.
“At the top of the hill I lost the animal––and myself, as well. I am a good woodsman, señores, and not easily lost. But 335 this time my poor head went badly astray. I started to cut through the bush. At last I came to the edge of a steep ravine. I clambered down the sides into the gully below. I thought it looked like an old trail, and I followed it. So narrow was it at times that the walls almost touched. But I went on. Then it widened, and I knew that at last I was in a trail, long since abandoned––and how old, only the good God himself knew!
“But my story grows as long as the trail! On and on I went, crossing stream after stream, scaring snakes from my path, frightening the birds above, who doubtless have never seen men in that region, all the time thinking I was going toward the Tiguí, until at last the old sunken trail led me up a tremendous hill. At the top, buried in a dense matting of brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were the remains of an ancient arrastra. Further on I found another; and still another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, long since gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a gully, where but little water flowed. It was lined with quartz bowlders. I struck off a piece from one of the largest. It showed specks of gold! My eyes danced! I forgot that I was lost! I went on up the stream, striking off piece after piece from the great rocks. Every one showed specks of free gold. Caramba! I reached the top of the hill. Hombre! how can I tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. Some of these were still open, where they had been driven through the hard rock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, in which I always carry matches and a bit of candle. I entered one of the open tunnels. Dios arriba! far within I crossed a quartz vein––I scraped it with my machete. Caramba! it could not have been less than six feet in width––and all speckled with gold! Above it, far into the blackness, where bats were scurrying madly, the ore had been taken out long, long ago. In the darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Every one bore the inscription, ‘I de R.’ Your grandfather, Padre, put his stamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to place myself, my father’s oft-told story of the location of the mine flashed into my brain. My memory is good, Padre. And I knew then where I was. I was at the headwaters of the Borrachera. And I had discovered La Libertad!”
Reed’s eager ears had drunk in every word of the old man’s dramatic story. His practical mind had revolved its possibilities. When Rosendo paused again, he quickly asked:
“The title, señor?”
Rosendo drew forth a paper from his bosom. It bore the government stamp. He handed it to Reed.
“You will recall, Padre,” he said, addressing the dully wondering 336 Josè, “that I once asked you to give me a name for a mine––a rare name? And you told me to call it the––the––what is it?”
“The Chicago mine, Rosendo?” replied Josè, recalling the incident.