"It will cost--eh--how much?" said the Mexican eagerly.

"Well, I should say it would take about a hundred dollars and expenses
to--to--find silver in that ore. But once you've got it there--you're
all right for tons of it."

"You shall have it," said the now excited Mexican. "You shall have it of
us,--the four! You shall come to our camp and shall melt it,--and show
the silver, and--enough! Come!" and in his feverishness he clutched the
hand of his companion as if to lead him forth at once.

"What are you going to do with your mule?" said the stranger.

"True, Holy Mother,--what, indeed?"

"Look yer," said the stranger, with a grim smile, "she won't stray far,
I'll be bound. I've an extra pack mule above here; you can ride on her,
and lead me into camp, and to-morrow come back for your beast."

Poor honest Concho's heart sickened at the prospect of leaving behind
the tired servant he had objurgated so strongly a moment before, but
the love of gold was uppermost. "I will come back to thee, little
one, to-morrow, a rich man. Meanwhile, wait thou here, patient
one,--Adios!--thou smallest of mules,--Adios!"

And, seizing the stranger's hand, he clambered up the rocky ledge until
they reached the summit. Then the stranger turned and gave one sweep of
his malevolent eye over the valley.