“Ay, a g–great fault that,” said Bill, pouring out and spilling most of another glass. “I wouldn’t give much for him.”
“You couldn’t help likin’ him, though, if you’d sailed with him as I’ve done,” returned Jim. “He’s a reg’lar brick, though he don’t smoke neither.”
“Don’t smoke?” exclaimed Bill, aghast. “Then he ain’t fit for this world! Why, what does he think ’baccy was made for?”
“I dun know as to that, Bill, but I do know that he’s goin’ to leave us. You see, he’s only a sort of half-hand—worked his passage out, you know, an’ well he did it too, though he is only a land-lubber, bein’ a Cornishman, who’s bin lookin’ arter mines o’ some sort ever since he was a boy. He says he’s in great luck, havin’ fallen in wi’ a party as is just agoin’ to start for the west under a feller they call Conrad o’ the Mountains.”
Lawrence and Pedro, who had been trying to ignore the presence of the sailors, and to converse in spite of their noise, became suddenly interested at this point, and the former glanced inquiringly at the latter.
“Listen,” said Pedro, in a low voice, and with a nod of intelligence.
“It’s a queer story,” continued Jim. “I heard all about it this very mornin’ from himself. He’d bin givin’ some on us a lot o’ good advice. You see, he’s a sort of edicated chap, an’ got a tremendjous gift o’ the gab, but none of us could take offence at ’im, for he’s such a quiet, modest feller—although he is big! Well, you must know that—that—what was I sayin’?”
“P–pash th’ bottle,” said Bill.
“No, that’s not what I was— Oh yes, I was goin’ to say he’d bin givin’ us good advice, ‘because you must know, shipmates,’ says he, ‘that I’ve bin in good luck on shore, havin’ fallen in with a most interestin’ man, whose right name I don’t know yet, because everybody speaks of him as Conrad of the Mountains, though some calls him Pedro, and others the Rover of the Andes, and a good lot say he’s a robber. But I don’t care twopence what they say, for I’ve seen him, and believe him to be a first-rate feller. Anyhow, he’s a rich one, and has bin hirin’ a few men to help him to work his silver-mine, and as I know somethin’ about mining, he has engaged me to superintend the underground work.’
“You may be sure we was surprised as well as pleased to hear all this, an’ we pumped him, in course, a good deal, an’ he told us that the mine was in the Andes somewheres, at a place called Murrykeety Valley, or some such name. This Conrad had discovered the mine a good while ago, and had got an old trapper an’ a boy to work it, but never made much of it till a few months back, when the old man an’ the boy came suddenly on some rich ground, where the silver was shovelled up in buckets. In course I don’t rightly know what like silver is when first got hold on. It ain’t in ready-made dollars, I dare say, but anyhow, they say this Conrad’ll be as rich as a nabob; an’ he’s got a pretty darter too, as has bin lost the most of her life, and just turned up at the same time wi’ the silver. I don’t rightly know if they dug her up in the mine, but there she is, an’ she’s goin’ up to the mountains too, so young Ansty will be in good company.”