We arrived in camp about ten o’clock, to find Johnny and Don Gaspar anxiously on the alert. When we had imparted our news, their faces, too, darkened with anger. Of us all Vasquez had been the only man who never lost his temper, who had always a flash of a smile for the hardest days. Hastily we threw together provisions for several days, and arranged our affairs as well as we could. We all wanted to go; and Don Gaspar, in spite of the remains of his malarial fever, fairly insisted on accompanying the expedition.
“Señores,” he said with dignity, “this was my own man from my own people.”
Nevertheless somebody had to stay in camp, although at first some of us were inclined to slur over that necessity.
“There’s a strong chance that Injuns will drift by and take all our supplies,” Bagsby pointed out.
“Chances are slim–in only a day or so; you must admit that,” argued Johnny. “Let’s risk it. We can scratch along if they do take our stuff.”
“And the gold?”
238That nonplussed us for a moment.
“Why not bury it?” I suggested.
Bagsby and Pine snorted.
“Any Injun would find it in a minute,” said Pine.