"You like to work?" continued Bud, and the Indian broke into a smile of assent.
"Muy bien," said Hooker with finality; "I give Mexicans two dollars a day—I give you four. Is that enough?"
"Sí," nodded the Yaqui, and without more words he followed Bud back to the cut. There, in half a day, he accomplished more than all the Mexicans put together, leaping boldly up the bank to dislodge hanging boulders, boosting them by main strength up onto the ramshackle tram they had constructed, and trundling them out to the dump with the shove of a mighty hand.
He was a willing worker, using his head every minute; but though he was such a hustler and made their puny efforts seem so ineffectual by comparison, he managed in some mysterious way to gain the immediate approval of the Mexicans. Perhaps it was his all-pervasive good nature, or the respect inspired by his hardihood; perhaps the qualities of natural leadership which had made him a picked man among his brother Yaquis. But when, late in the afternoon, Bud came back from a trip to the tent he found Amigo in charge of the gang, heaving and struggling and making motions with his head.
"Good enough!" he muttered, after watching him for a minute in silence, and leaving the new boss in command, he went back and started supper.
That was the beginning of a new day at the Eagle Tail, and when De Lancey came back from town—whither he went whenever he could conjure up an errand—he found that, for once, he had not been missed.
Bud was doing the blacksmithing, Amigo was directing the gang, and a fresh mess of beans was on the fire, the first kettleful having gone to reënforce the Yaqui's backbone. But they were beans well spent, and Bud did not regret the raid on his grub-pile. If he could get half as much work for what he fed the Mexicans he could well rest content.
"But how did this Indian happen to find you?" demanded Phil, when his pardner had explained his acquisition. "Say, he must have deserted from his company when they brought them back from Moctezuma!"
"More'n likely," assented Bud. "He ain't talking much, but I notice he keeps his eye out—they'd shoot him for a deserter if they could ketch him. I'd hate to see him go that way."
"Well, if he's as good as this, let's take care of him!" cried Phil with enthusiasm. "I'll tell you, Bud, there's something big coming off pretty soon and I'd like to stay around town a little more if I could. I want to keep track of things."