when he was picked up by a farmer out hunting. The farmer was living all by himself in a lonely shack some thirty miles from the nearest town. The wounded man told his story. The farmer could not carry the man to town because he could see that his wounds were such that he would not live. A few days later the man died.
“The farmer reported the case when he was in town about five months later. Nobody, not even the sheriff, took his tale seriously. People there considered the story evidence that the farmer’s mind was unbalanced—as they had suspected since the day the stranger had settled so far out in the desert.
6
“Harry Tilton of course did not know anything of what had happened after he had left. He thought his partners had returned to their homes after having made their fortunes. He wasn’t much of a talker anyhow. He admitted that he had made his pile in prospecting, and let it rest there.
“Then came the gold fever all over the world. In three different corners of the earth, Australia, South Africa, and Alaska, deposits were found. People everywhere became mad in their desire for riches. If every tale about gold-finds told in those days had been true, the world today would have more gold at its command than lead. One prospector out of ten thousand would make a hundred thousand dollars inside of six months. In consequence of this plain fact stories were spread and believed that every one of twenty thousand prospectors within four weeks had picked two millions for his own share.
“It was these exaggerated tales that brought to the mind of adventurous men living in the same county where Harry Tilton had his farm bits of the story Harry had told.
“An expedition was formed and Harry, much against his will, was made leader. He did not care to go out again, for he was satisfied with his life. But these men tired him out, pressed him day in and day out, called him a bad citizen, a liar, an egoistical and jealous neighbor, threatened to run him out of the county, until he saw no other way but to take the party to the old mine.
“Almost thirty years had passed since Harry had been there, and his memory was no longer accurate. He could rather easily describe certain landmarks that had been near the mine when he had worked there. He drew maps and made sketches which seemed clear to every member of the expedition.
“I was a member of the party,” Howard concluded, “I had staked quite a bit of money on this adventure. But I tell you boys, and it may sound silly, we never did find the spot. We searched and dug like madmen. Twice or oftener each day Harry would say that it must be there; a few hours later he would say that he was mistaken, that it must be two miles yonder. He became more and more confused every day. The men thought finally that he had intentionally misled them. This, of course, was unjust. He was honest. What interest would he have had, old man that he was, in concealing the location of the mine? If he had known it, he would have shown it.
“The party became furious. One night they tortured him in the most cruel way, believing that he would tell, but he couldn’t tell something which he himself didn’t know. Two went so far as to suggest that he should be killed like a rat for having doublecrossed them. Luckily for him, the majority of the party were still sane enough to prevent this injustice. It surely would have been a funny trick of fate had he died near the same spot where all his former partners had lost their lives.
“The second night after the party was back home again, his farm buildings were burned to the ground. He was tough, however—a real pioneer. He did not give in. Right away he began to build again. When he had nearly finished the buildings, they burned down again while he was gone to town.
“Harry had to sell out for half the money the farm was really worth, for he knew that he could no longer live there.
“He left the state. I don’t know what has become of him.
“Well, and here, boys, is the end of another of the stories about the one-man mining companies. I have seen quite a number of men get rich prospecting, but I haven’t yet met one who stayed so. My old friend Harry Tilton was no exception. And he sure was a man who tried very hard to keep what he had made.”
Chapter 4
The next morning Dobbs retold this story to Curtin while they were sitting on the plaza.
Curtin listened eagerly to the yarn. When Dobbs had finished Curtin said: “I figure this story is a true one.”
“Of course it’s true,” Dobbs maintained. “What made you think it might be a weak magazine tale?” He was surprised that anybody could doubt the truthfulness of the story, which Dobbs thought the prettiest he had ever heard.
Yet Curtin’s question with that glimpse of doubt had a strange effect upon the mind of Dobbs. Last night, when Howard had told the story in his slow, convincing tone, Dobbs had felt that he himself was living the story; he could not detect any fault in it. Everything had seemed as clear and simple as if it had been the story of a man who had made good in the shoe business. But the slight doubt of Curtin had raised the apparently plain story to that of high adventure. Dobbs had never before in his life thought that prospecting for gold necessarily must carry some sort of mystery with it. Prospecting for gold was only another Way of looking for a job or working. There was no more mystery about it than about digging out a tank on a cattle ranch or working in a sand mine.
“I haven’t said that the story is not true,” Curtin defended his opinion. “There are a million such stories. Open any magazine and you will find them. But even if part of the story sounds like fiction, there is one incident in the old man’s story which is true as sunlight. It is that incident where the three partners, after having spotted the mine, try to hold out on the rest.”
“You said it.” Dobbs nodded. “That’s exactly what I say. It is that eternal curse on gold which changes the soul of man in a second.” The moment he had said this he knew he had said something that never had been in his mind before. Never before had he had the idea that there was a curse connected with gold. Now he had the feeling that not he himself, but something inside him, the existence of which until now he had had no knowledge of, had spoken for him, using his voice. For a while he was rather uneasy, feeling that inside his mind there was a second person whom he had seen or heard for the first time.
“Curse upon gold?” Curtin seemed entirely unmoved by this suggestion. “I don’t see any curse on gold. Where is it? Old women’s tattle. Nothing to it. There is as much blessing on gold as there is curse. It depends upon who holds it—I mean the gold. In the end the good or the bad character of its owner determines whether gold is blessed or cursed. Give a scoundrel a bag with little stones or a bag with silver coins and he will use either to satisfy his criminal desires if he is left free to do as he pleases. And, by the way, what most people never know is the fact that gold in itself is not needed at all. Suppose I could make people believe that I have mountains of gold, then I could arrive at the same end as if I really had that gold. It isn’t the gold that changes man, it is the power which gold gives to man that changes the soul of man. This power, though, is only imaginary. If not recognized by other men, it does not exist.”
Dobbs, only half listening to what Curtin was saying, leaned back on the bench and looked up at the roofs of houses where men were at work putting up telephone wires. He had watched them the day before and he watched them now, waiting for something to happen to them. They were standing there so unprotected that he wondered how they could work at all. “And all this,” he said, “all this for four pesos and fifty centavos a day, with the possibility of dropping off and breaking their necks. A working-man’s life is a dog’s life, that’s what it is. Oh hell, let’s talk about something more amusing. Getting back once more to that story, I wonder would you betray your pals just to have all the gold for yourself.”
Curtin did not answer right away. “I don’t think that anyone can say what he would do if he had a chance to get all the cuts for himself just by a little trick or a bit of cheating. I’m sure that every man has acted differently from the way he had thought he would when face to face with a heap of money or with the opportunity to pocket a quarter of a million with only the move of one hand.”
“I think I would do as Harry Tilton did,” Dobbs said. “That is the safe thing. Then one wouldn’t have to sweat for others and run around hungry all the time. I sure would be satisfied with a certain sum, take it and go away and settle down in a pretty little town, and let the others quarrel.”
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