could not explain. He had the feeling that the more he acted, the more these people would respect and admire him; though why, again, he should yearn for the admiration and respect of these poor folk he would not have been able to explain, even to himself.
All the people present considered that he had performed a miracle. Even now, when the boy opened his eyes and began to recognize his surroundings and his father and mother, the onlookers acted as if under a spell. They did not utter a word, but simply looked at the awakening boy and at Howard in awe.
When Howard had made sure that the boy was all right and that there would be no bad reaction he took his hat and said: “Buenas noches! Good night!” and went to the door. The father of the boy followed, shook hands, and muttered: “Muchas, muchas, mu gracias, senor, thousand thanks!” Then he returned to the table, where the boy was trying to sit up.
2
It was now pitch-dark. Howard had some difficulty in finding his way back to camp. No one accompanied him, but the faint light of the camp-fire flickering in the distance guided him.
“Well, what did the great doctor achieve?” Dobbs asked when the old man came near.
“It wasn’t anything to speak of. Artificial respiration and some boy-scout tricks and he came along fine. I think it was more shock than drowning. He hadn’t swallowed much water, as far as I could tell. Perhaps he was stunned when diving. Now what about my part of the supper? Any meat left?”
“Plenty. Don’t you worry,” Curtin laughed and heaped his plate.
3
Dawn saw the partners already on their march again. They wished to reach the village of Tominil, where they would try to cross the high passes of the Sierra Madre.
At noon they stopped to give themselves and the animals a rest, as the sun was mercilessly hot.
They were just ready to pack up again when Curtin exclaimed: “Now what the devil is coming? Looks as if we have something on our heels.”
“Where?” Dobbs asked. At the same moment he had caught sight of a group of Indians on horseback.
It was not long before they reached the partners, who recognized four of the men as the same who last night had come to their camp to ask for help. Two others Howard knew had been in the house when he had treated the boy.
The Indians greeted the travelers, and one of the men asked: “Senores, why did you leave our neighborhood so soon?”
Howard laughed. “We weren’t running away, senores. The fact is we have to go to Durango, to attend to our business, which is very important.”
“Business?” the father of the rescued boy questioned. “What is business, after all? Just hustle and worry. Business can wait. There is no business in this world which is urgent, senores. Urgent business is nothing but sheer imagination. Death finishes the most important and the most urgent business in a second. So what? There are more days coming, as long as there is a sun in the heavens. Every new day you can use to do business. Why just today? There is always a manana, always a tomorrow, which is just as good as today. What’s the difference between today and tomorrow? It’s only imaginary. And so I say, senores, you cannot go. You cannot leave me like that. No, senor. You cannot leave me in debt to you. I invite you to stay with me. You rescued my boy from certain death. For having done this great service I should be damned and burn in hell for all eternity if I allowed you to go without first showing you my deep gratitude. What is more, all the people in the village would believe me a sinner and a devil if I did not reward you properly for what you have done for me and my family.”
Dobbs pushed Curtin in the ribs and said in a low voice: “Seems to me a similar story to that told us by the old man the other day about the doctor who cured the eyes of the son of an Indian chief, and this time it’s us that gets the benefit. Sure, that guy knows a lost gold mine he’s going to offer us. I bet you.”
“Keep quiet and let’s listen first,” Curtin said.
The Indian continued his speech. “You see, senores, the only way I can show you my gratitude is by inviting you to be my guests for at least two weeks.”
Dobbs looked sour.
“No, senores, let’s make it six weeks; that would be better. I have good milpas, very fine acres. Lots of corn. I have many goats and quite a number of sheep. I am not so poor as I may look. Each day I shall have a turkey roasted for you, and as many eggs and as much goat’s milk and roast kid as you can eat. I have already ordered my wife to make you at least three times a week the very best tamales she can make. In fact, she has been hard at work since long before sunrise to prepare a great feast for you. You cannot well leave her now with all the good food cooked. She would die of shame, thinking you believe her a bad cook. She isn’t; my wife is a great cook. I think she is the best cook for miles around.”
“I thank you for your kindness, for your very great kindness indeed,” Howard responded, falling in with the elaborate speech his would-be host had used. “To tell you the truth, I’m very sorry we can’t stay on. We have to go to Durango. Unless I am in Durango inside of a week, I’ll lose all my business.”
“In this you are mistaken, my friend. You won’t lose your business. And if you should, why, pick up another one. There is so much business in the world just waiting to be picked up. No use to hurry. All I can say is that you cannot go like this. I have to pay you for your medicine. I haven’t any money. All I can offer is my house and my most sincere hospitality. Sorry, my friend, I’m afraid I shall have to insist that you stay with me at least six weeks. You will get a good horse to ride on. You may go hunting and get more hides. You haven’t so many. We have the best game around here. I will see the musicians tomorrow, and every Saturday night we will have a dance. The prettiest girls will come and be pleased to dance with you. I will make them, because you are my guest. Why worry about your business? There is only one business on earth, and that is to live and be happy. What greater thing can you gain from life than happiness?”
“I am extremely sorry, senor, but I cannot stay.” Howard had no means and no words with which to explain to these simple men that business is the only real thing in life, that it is heaven and paradise and all the happiness of a good Rotarian. These Indians were still living in a semi-civilized state, with little hope of improvement within the next hundred years. “No, honestly,” he added, “I can’t accept your hospitality, much as I’d like to.”
“Understand, caballeros,” Dobbs cut in, “we can’t stay here. We can’t, I say, we simply can’t, and that’s that; there’s no other way out.”
“You’d better not try to come into our deal, young man,” said the Indian, who took little notice of Dobbs and his opinion. He again addressed Howard: “I don’t accept refusal, caballero. We have taken your help without question and we accepted what you offered us. You cannot back out now and refuse what we wish to offer you in return for your service.”
To get angry would not help. The partners felt that there was no escape. Here were six mounted Indians with a firm and unshakable idea of what they wanted. They were determined to show their gratitude in their own way, and show it they would if it meant taking the partners to the village as prisoners.
At this stage of deadlock Curtin said: “Oiga, listen, friends, we want to talk this thing over among ourselves, if you don’t mind. Will you please leave us alone for a minute?”
When they had stepped aside, Dobbs spoke up: “Look here, Howy, I don’t think we can get out of this. They will take us along by force if we don’t go. Now, the thing is, they want only you, you alone, not us two. That much is clear.”
“Looks like.”
“Okay. So I propose that you stay a few days and we go on. You may follow up later, meeting us in Durango.”
“What about my packs?”
“You take them along with you,” Curtin suggested.
Dobbs was against it. “That wouldn’t be wise. They might, out of pure curiosity, search the packs, and if they discover what is in them they will rob you, perhaps kill you. You can never trust an Indian. No road would be safe for you traveling alone. You know that, old feller, don’t you?”
“All right. What can I do? Spill it.”
