"Why you no dig gold?" he asked at last, and then Bud told him his story.
"We have an enemy," he said, "who might steal it from us. So now we wait for papers. When we get them, we dig!"
"Ah!" breathed Amigo, his face suddenly clearing up. "And can I work for you then?"
"Sí," answered Bud, "for four dollars a day. But now you help me watch, so nobody comes."
"Stawano!" exclaimed the Indian, well satisfied, and after that he spent hours on the hilltop, his black head thrust out over the crest like a chucka-walla lizard as he conned the land below.
So the days went by until three weeks had passed and still no papers came. As his anxiety increased Phil fell into the habit of staying in town overnight, and finally he was gone for two days. The third day was drawing to a close, and Bud was getting restless, when suddenly he beheld the Yaqui bounding down the hill in great leaps and making signs down the cañon.
"Two men," he called, dashing up to the tent; "one of them a rural!"
"Why a rural?" asked Bud, mystified.
"To take me!" cried Amigo, striking himself vehemently on the breast. "Lend me your rifle!"
"No," answered Bud, after a pause; "you might get me into trouble. Run and hide in the rocks—I will signal you when to come back."