“After I had toasted my blankets thoroughly, I wrapped them around me, and laid down near the fire, with my rifle near me. The big hound was just back a bit, between me and the door, and I felt quite secure and perfectly comfortable. I was tired, too, for I had been working hard all day, and I soon dropped off into a sound sleep.
“I do not know how long I had slept, when I sat up suddenly throwing the blankets off from me and grabbing my rifle. The fire had died down and there was that chill in the air that cramps a man’s blood. The cabin was full of shadows, except the dying glow on the stone hearth. The dog had risen and was growling towards the door. Then I heard the blow of a stick, I suppose it was, against the door.
“I tell you, it made me feel scared, coming in the dead of night, in such a lonesome, utterly desolate place. I was kind of superstitious in those days, too, and I was afraid of what was outside there, because it didn’t seem possible for anything human to have reached my isolated cabin on such a night. Again came the blow upon the door; then I crossed to the window and very cautiously looked out.
“It had evidently heard me or divined that I was at the window, for I saw pressed against the pane and almost touching my face, it seemed, the dark visage of a man with wild, black eyes. The dog saw him too, but as he did not seem to be inspired with his usual ferocity, I decided to take a chance and let him in. I would not have kept the Old Boy himself out on a night like that.
“So with my weapon ready, I unbarred the door, and the man stumbled in. I saw that he was not an American, but belonged to some dark race, probably a Spaniard. When I got a good look at his face, I saw that my unbidden guest was no other than Rodrigo Sandez, who was fabled all through that region to have found the entrance to the famous Lost Mine, whose wealth had been coupled with legends for many years.
“It seems that this mine had been known to the earliest Spanish explorers, many of whom went back to Spain fabulously rich. Then, for many years, all trace had been lost of it, and numerous miners and prospectors laughed incredulously at any mention of it. Then came Rodrigo Sandez with his friend, who likewise was Spanish, or as I think Spanish-Mexican, and rediscovered the Lost Mine, probably through some information long hidden, that had come to them in Mexico, through some unknown sources.
“The man was half frozen from exposure to the elements, and when he was thawed out physically, it did the same for his powers of speech. I eagerly hoped that he would have something to say that would give me a clue to the whereabouts of that mine, not that I expected he would make me his heir, but I was anxious to make a stake in those days, for one reason, if not for another, so I had hopes.
“In the three weeks that he stayed in my cabin before the storm broke, not a hint could I get out of him, though he would talk volubly about other matters, telling me of his travels in Mexico and South America. All the time he was with me I kept wondering what had become of his partner, but when I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask him, something in his manner of looking at me held me back.
“Physically he was not impressive, this man, being short and stocky. His complexion was very dark, and his hair was short and bristly. But there was a peculiar power in his eyes at times, and when he was disturbed about anything, instead of becoming sharp and brilliant they took on a kind of glaze, that gave you a creepy feeling when he looked at you.
“I might say right here that though Sandez and his partner had been trailed many times in the effort to find where this mine was located, they were always lost track of. Either they dropped out of sight as though the earth had swallowed them, or something happened to the party that was following them.