Chapter Forty Three.
The “Bonanza.”
The infamous ceremony duly ratified, a drink of the fiery spirit of the mescal plant—a fit finale—is quaffed. Then they take up their stilettos, replace them in their sheaths, and again sitting down, listen to De Lara, to learn from him the nature of that deed, for doing which they have so solemnly compacted.
In a short time he makes it known, the disclosure calling for but a few words. It is after all but a common affair, though one that needs skill and courage. Simply a “bit of burglary,” but a big thing of its kind. He tells them of three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of gold-dust lying in a lone country-house, with no other protection than that of its owner, with some half-dozen Indian domestics.
There are but two of them to whom this is news—Diaz and Calderon. Rocas smiles while the revelation is being made; for he has been the original discoverer of the so-called “bonanza.” It was that he communicated to De Lara, when, on the day before, he stopped him and Calderon at the tinacal of Dolores.
It is not the first time for the seal-hunter to do business of a similar kind in conjunction with the gambler; who, like himself, has been accustomed to vary his professional pursuits. But, as now, he has always acted under De Lara—whose clear, cool head and daring hand assure him leadership in any scheme requiring superior courage, with intelligence for its execution.
“How soon?” asks Diaz, after all has been declared. “I should say the sooner the better.”
“You’re right about that, Don Manuel,” rejoins Rocas.