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rock. Denton didn't say anything, but he jerked Schwartz up by

the collar so fiercely" target="_blank" title="ad.凶猛地,残忍地">fiercely that the German gave it over and came
along.

We dropped down into the gully, stumbled over the boulder wash,
and began to toil in the ankle-deep sand of a little sage-brush

flat this side of the next ascent. Schwartz followed steadily
enough now, but had fallen forty or fifty feet behind. This was

a nuisance, as we bad to keep turning to see if he still kept up.
Suddenly he seemed to disappear.

Denton and I hurried back to find him on his hands and knees
behind a sagebrush, clawing away at the sand like mad.

"Can't be water on this flat," said Denton; "he must have gone
crazy."

"What's the matter, Schwartz?" I asked.
For answer he moved a little to one side, showing beneath his

knee one corner of a wooden box sticking above the sand.
At this we dropped beside him, and in five minutes had uncovered

the whole of the chest. It was not very large, and was locked.
A rock from the wash fixed that, however. We threw back the lid.

It was full to the brim of gold coins, thrown in loose, nigh two
bushels of them.

"The treasure!" I cried.
There it was, sure enough, or some of it. We looked the rest

through, but found nothing but the gold coins. The altar
ornaments and jewels were lacking.

"Probably buried in another box or so," said Denton.
Schwartz wanted to dig around a little.

"No good," said I. "We've got our work cut out for us as it is."
Denton backed me up. We were both old hands at the business, had

each in our time suffered the "cotton-mouth" thirst, and the
memory of it outweighed any desire for treasure.

But Schwartz was money-mad. Left to himself he would have staid
on that sand flat to perish, as certainly as had poor Billy. We

had fairly to force him away, and then succeeded only because we
let him fill all his pockets to bulging with the coins. As we

moved up the next rise, he kept looking back and uttering little
moans against the crime of leaving it.

Luckily for us it was winter. We shouldn't have lasted six hours
at this time of year. As it was, the sun was hot against the

shale and the little stones of those cussed hills. We plodded
along until late afternoon, toiling up one hill and down another,

only to repeat immediately. Towards sundown we made the second
bay, where we plunged into the sea, clothes and all, and were

greatly refreshed. I suppose a man absorbs a good deal that way.
Anyhow, it always seemed to help.

We were now pretty hungry, and, as we walked along the shore, we
began to look for turtles or shellfish, or anything else that

might come handy. There was nothing. Schwartz wanted to stop
for a night's rest, but Denton and I knew better than that.

"Look here, Schwartz," said Denton, "you don't realise you're
entered against time in this race--and that you're a damn fool to

carry all that weight in your clothes."
So we dragged along all night.

It was weird enough, I can tell you. The moon shone cold and
white over that dead, dry country. Hot whiffs rose from the

baked stones and hillsides. Shadows lay under the stones like
animals crouching. When we came to the edge of a silvery hill we

dropped off into pitchy blackness. There we stumbled over
boulders for a minute or so, and began to climb the steep shale

on the other side. This was fearful work. The top seemed always
miles away. By morning we didn't seem to have made much of

anywhere. The same old hollow-looking mountains with the sharp
edges stuck up in about the same old places.

We had got over being very hungry, and, though we were pretty
dry, we didn't really suffer yet from thirst. About this time

Denton ran across some fishhook cactus, which we cut up and
chewed. They have a sticky wet sort of inside, which doesn't

quench your thirst any, but helps to keep you from drying up and
blowing away.

All that day we plugged along as per usual. It was main hard
work, and we got to that state where things are disagreeable, but

mechanical. Strange to say, Schwartz kept in the lead. It
seemed to me at the time that he was using more energy than the

occasion called for--just as man runs faster before he comes to
the giving-out point. However, the hours went by, and he

didn't seem to get any more tired than the rest of us.
We kept a sharp lookout for anything to eat, but there was

nothing but lizards and horned toads. Later we'd have been glad
of them, but by that time we'd got out of their district. Night

came. Just at sundown we took another wallow in the surf, and
chewed some more fishhook cactus. When the moon came up we went

on.
I'm not going to tell you how dead beat we got. We were pretty

tough and strong, for all of us had been used to hard living, but
after the third day without anything to eat and no water to

drink, it came to be pretty hard going. It got to the point
where we had to have some REASON for getting out besides just

keeping alive. A man would sometimes rather die than keep alive,
anyway, if it came only to that. But I know I made up my mind I

was going to get out so I could smash up that Anderson, and I
reckon Denton had the same idea. Schwartz didn't say anything,

but he pumped on ahead of us, his back bent over, and his clothes
sagging and bulging with the gold he carried.

We used to travel all night, because it was cool, and rest an
hour or two at noon. That is all the rest we did get. I don't

know how fast we went; I'd got beyond that. We must have crawled
along mighty slow, though, after our first strength gave out.

The way I used to do was to collect myself with an effort, look
around for my bearings, pick out a landmark a little distance

off, and forget everything but it. Then I'd plod along, knowing
nothing but the sand and shale and slope under my feet, until I'd

reached that landmark. Then I'd clear my mind and pick out
another.

But I couldn't shut out the figure of Schwartz that way. He used
to walk along just ahead of my shoulder. His face was all

twisted up, but I remember thinking at the time it looked more as
if he was worried in his mind than like bodilysuffering. The

weight of the gold in his clothes bent his shoulders over.
As we went on the country gradually got to be more mountainous,

and, as we were steadily growing weaker, it did seem things were
piling up on us. The eighth day we ran out of the fishhook

cactus, and, being on a high promontory, were out of touch with
the sea. For the first time my tongue began to swell a little.

The cactus had kept me from that before. Denton must have been
in the same fix, for he looked at me and raised one eyebrow kind

of humorous.
Schwartz was having a good deal of difficulty to navigate. I

will say for him that he had done well, but now I could see that
his strength was going on him in spite of himself. He knew it,

all right, for when we rested that day he took all the gold coins
and spread them in a row, and counted them, and put them back in

his pocket, and then all of a sudden snatched out two handfuls
and threw them as far as he could.

"Too heavy," he muttered, but that was all he could bring himself
to throw away.

All that night we wandered high in the air. I guess we tried to
keep a general direction, but I don't know. Anyway, along late,

but before moonrise--she was now on the wane--I came to, and
found myself looking over the edge of a twenty-foot drop. Right

below me I made out a faint glimmer of white earth in the
starlight. Somehow it reminded me of a little trail I used to

know under a big rock back in Texas.
"Here's a trail," I thought, more than half loco; "I'll follow

it!"
At least that's what half of me thought. The other half was

sensible, and knew better, but it seemed to be kind of standing
to one side, a little scornful, watching the performance. So I

slid and slipped down to the strip of white earth, and, sure
enough, it was a trail. At that the loco half of me gave the

sensible part the laugh. I followed the path twenty feet and
came to a dark hollow under the rock, and in it a round pool of

water about a foot across. They say a man kills himself drinking
too much, after starving for water. That may be, but it didn't

kill me, and I sucked up all I could hold. Perhaps the fishhook
cactus had helped. Well, sir, it was surprising how that drink

brought me around. A minute before I'd been on the edge of going
plumb loco, and here I was as clear-headed as a lawyer.

I hunted up Denton and Schwartz. They drank, themselves full,
too. Then we rested. It was mighty hard to leave that spring--

Oh, we had to do it. We'd have starved sure, there. The trail
was a game trail, but that did us no good, for we had no weapons.

How we did wish for the coffeepot, so we could take some away.
We filled our hats, and carried them about three hours, before

the water began to soak through. Then we had to drink it in
order to save it.

The country fairly stood up on end. We had to climb separate
little hills so as to avoid rolling rocks down on each other. It

took it out of us. About this time we began to see mountain
sheep. They would come right up to the edges of the small cliffs

to look at us. We threw stones at them, hoping to hit one in the
forehead, but of course without any results.

The good effects of the water lasted us about a day. Then we
began to see things again. Off and on I could see water plain as

could be in every hollow, and game of all kinds standing around
and looking at me. I knew these were all fakes. By making an

effort I could swing things around to where they belonged. I
used to do that every once in a while, just to be sure we weren't

doubling back, and to look out for real water. But most of the
time it didn't seem to be worth while. I just let all these

visions riot around and have a good time inside me or outside me,
whichever it was. I knew I could get rid of them any minute.

Most of the time, if I was in any doubt, it was easier to throw a
stone to see if the animals were real or not. The real ones ran

away.
We began to see bands of wild horses in the uplands. One day

both Denton and I plainly saw one with saddle marks on him. If
only one of us had seen him, it wouldn't have counted much, but

we both made him out. This encouraged us wonderfully, though I
don't see why it should have. We had topped the high country,

too, and had started down the other side of the mountains that
ran out on the promontory. Denton and I were still navigating

without any thought of giving up, but Schwartz was getting in bad
shape. I'd hate to pack twenty pounds over that country even

with rest, food, and water. He was toting it on nothing. We
told him so, and he came to see it, but he never could persuade

himself to get rid of the gold all at once. Instead he threw
away the pieces one by one. Each sacrifice seemed to nerve him

up for another heat. I can shut my eyes and see it now--the
wide, glaring, yellow country, the pasteboard mountains, we three

dragging along, and the fiercesunshine flashing from the
doubloons as one by one they went spinning through the air.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN,
THE CHEWED SUGAR CANE

"I'd like to have trailed you fellows," sighed a voice from the
corner.

"Would you!" said Colorado Rogers grimly.
It was five days to the next water. But they were worse than the

eight days before. We were lucky, however, for at the spring we
discovered in a deep wash near the coast, was the dried-up skull

of a horse. It had been there a long time, but a few shreds of
dried flesh still clung to it. It was the only thing that could



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