“Yes, señor, it is the red gold of El Alisal, and it is to you,” but her eyes were watching him hungrily as she spoke. And something of that pathetic fear penetrated his amazed mind, and he remembered.
“No, Tula, only my share to me. I do the work, but the great share is to you, that it may buy back your mother from the slavers of the south.”
“Also my sister,” said the girl, and for the first time she wept.
“Come, come! This is the time for joy. The danger is gone, and we are at rest beside this––why, it’s a dream come true, the golden dream! Come, help me cook that we may be strong for the work.”
She helped silently, fetching water and more sticks for the fire.
There were many things to ask, but he asked no questions, only gazed between bites and sups at the amazing facts facing him.
“I’ve seen ores and ores in my time, but nothing like this!” he exulted. “Why, I can ‘high grade’ mule loads of this and take it out without smelting,” and then he grinned at his little partner. “We just struck it in time,––meat is mighty near done.”
“Plenty meat!” she said nodding her head wisely. “Burro, big burro, wild burro! I see track.”
“Wild burro? Sure, that makes it simple till we rest up. You are one great little commissary sergeant.”
He noted that the pitch of the roof towards the face of the mountain carried the smoke in a sort of funnel to be sifted through high unseen crannies of shattered rock above. All was dark in the end of the gallery, but a perceptible draught from the portal bore the smoke upward.