Phil laughed and looked grimly at Mendez while he delivered his ultimatum.
"Very well, my friend," he said. "We will stay and look at this mine. If we think it is good we will take you to the mining agent and get a permit to dig. For sixty days we will dig, and if we find nothing we will pay you fifty dollars, anyway. If we find the ledge we will give you a hundred dollars. All right?"
"Sí, señor—sí, señor!" cried Mendez, "one hundred dollars!"
"When you give us the papers!" warned Phil. "But remember—be careful! The Americans do not like men who talk. And come to the hotel at Fortuna to-morrow—then we will let you know."
"And you will buy the mine?" begged Mendez, backing off with his hat in his hand.
"Perhaps," answered De Lancey. "We will tell you to-morrow."
"Buen'!" bowed Mendez. "And many thanks!"
"It is nothing," replied De Lancey politely, and then with a crooked smile he gazed after the old man as he went hurrying off down the cañon.
"Well," he observed, "I guess we've got Mr. Mendez started just about right—what? Now if we can keep him without the price of a drink until we get out papers we stand a chance to win."
"That's right," said Bud; "but I wish he had two good eyes. I knowed a one-eyed Mex up in Arizona and he was sure a thieving son of a goat!"