Бруно Травен: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

The uncle also nodded, looking as if he had already known last night that today he would buy burros for four pesos apiece. He approached the burros as though he meant to test them for the last time. Without looking at Miguel he asked: “Do you mean to carry the packs on your own backs?”

“Oh yes, the packs.” Miguel was startled. He glanced at his accomplices, hoping to find a satisfactory answer in their faces. He had lost his feeling of superiority and was looking for help from his men.

Nacho seemed to understand the glance. “The packs we want to sell also, because we intend to travel by rail.”

“That’s right.” Miguel caught his breath. He was grateful to Nacho. “Yes, we meant to sell the packs also. But, of course, first we had to sell the animals.”

“Usually it is the other way round,” the uncle said casually. “What have you got inside the packs?”

“Hides. Mostly hides of all sorts. And, of course, our cooking outfit. Also tools. The shotgun, you will understand, we can’t sell. You wouldn’t have the money to buy it.”

“Of course not. Furthermore, I’m not interested in that shotgun. I have all the shotguns we need around here. What sort of tools are these? Any use for us?”

“I think so,” Miguel said. He was now himself once more. “There are spades, pick-axes, shovels, crow-bars, and such things.”

The Indian nodded, meaning that there was nothing strange about it. He gave the packs another look of inspection. “How do you come to carry such tools across the mountains?”

Miguel became suspicious. He glanced around at his partners, squatting on the ground and smoking cigarettes rolled in common paper, seemingly not worrying about anything. “Oh, these tools—if you mean these tools—well—these tools, you see—”

Nacho came to his rescue. “We’ve been working for quite some time with an American mining company here in the state of Durango.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Miguel blurted out, relieved of a choking burden upon his breast.

“You mean to tell me, then, that you have stolen these tools from the American mining company you worked for?” The Indian, for the first time, changed the tone of his voice.

Miguel did not understand fully the meaning of this hard, cold tone. He winked one eye at the uncle as if he wanted to make him his accomplice. Then he grinned, showing all his teeth. “I wouldn’t say stolen, senor,” he said. “That is a harsh word, and it can easily be misunderstood by the wrong people. Fact is, the tools are not exactly stolen. We are no thieves. We are honest traders in burros, in pigs, in cattle, and also, if opportunity favors us, in second-hand goods and remnants of merchandise, you know. We haven’t stolen these tools. It was simply this way: we didn’t return them when we resigned from our work. We weren’t paid well, and so we considered these tools sort of back pay owed us by the rich company. It’s a gringo company anyhow, so what does it matter? All right, you may buy these tools for two pesos. All of them for two duros. I think that isn’t too much to ask. They are very good and useful tools. We’re selling them only because we don’t want to carry them to the depot. It’s a long way down.”

The uncle stroked his hair back with his hand. He rumpled his face, obviously thinking hard. Looking around, he seemed to count the villagers standing near by. He glanced at his nephew and at a few other men and nodded as if he had come to a decision.

Then he spoke very slowly, almost drawling: “I can’t buy all the burros. I don’t need that many. I shall call together all the people of this village. Each has some money. I can promise you that you will be relieved of the burros, as well as of anything else you have, and when I say anything else, I really mean everything you have. I shall do my best to make it a perfect deal. Won’t you sit down?” Having said this, he turned round and called back to the house: “Zeferina, bring the caballeros cool water and a package of cigarettes, marca Argentinas, and matches. Make yourselves comfortable,” he added, addressing the three men; “it won’t be long until I have called together the village.”

He looked as though he had still forgotten something. “Oh yes, Angel, you will do these caballeros the honor to keep them company so that they won’t feel lonely.” Angel was his nephew, who had seated himself near the strangers, a friendly smile on his lips.

The uncle also smiled at the strangers when he left them.

In less than half an hour the villagers had assembled near the uncle’s adobe house. They came singly and in groups of two or three. Some carried their machetes in a holster, others in their hands. Some of them carried no weapon at all. They came chatting about ordinary affairs as if they were going to market.

On arriving at the house, they went inside, spoke a few words to the uncle, came out, and went straight over to the burros, looking at them carefully and appraising their value. They seemed to be satisfied with the animals. Casually they looked at the strangers squatting in the shade of the trees.

After a while the women of the village began to appear, some with babies in their arms or bound on their backs, some with their children by their side. The older children were already playing about the plaza.

There was no doubt that the whole village was present to witness the sale of the burros.

When the uncle came out of his house followed by a number of men, the villagers gathered in a wide circle in front of the house. Some remained near the burros, bending down and testing their legs, opening their mouths, and feeling the soundness of their flesh.

The three thieves had been diverted by Angel, who told them stories and made them relate their adventures with women. Now, looking up casually, they saw that they were entirely surrounded, so that there was no way of escape. Not yet did they realize that this had been ordered by the uncle on purpose, for the men near the burros looked and acted as if they were buyers in dead earnest. Their first idea was that of all thieves and bandits: that they were to be robbed or doublecrossed or even killed. This fear, however, was dispelled by the words the uncle spoke to the men of the village.

He said: “Friends, amigos y ciudadanos, here are tres forasteros, three strangers, who have come from the valley wishing to sell their burros.”

The strangers, so introduced, rose and greeted the villagers: “Buenas tardes, senores!”

“Buenas tardes a ustedes, senores!” came the answer.

The uncle then resumed: “The price for the burros is not high. The community could use them, or might rent them out to the poorer citizens for a little money, which, after the burros are paid for, would be of help for our school, since the kids in school need books and pencils.”

The speaker paused and then continued in a different tone: “The price is not high. We only wonder how it is possible that you men,” addressing the strangers, “can sell burros of this good quality for so little money.”

Miguel grinned. “Now, see here, senor, it is like this, we need ready cash, that’s all, and since we can’t make you pay more we will have to accept what you offer us.”

“Do the burros have a brand?”

“Naturally,” Miguel answered quickly. “They all have brands.” He looked round at the burros to read the brand, but found that the men had covered them all up.

“What is the brand?” the uncle asked quietly.

This question upset Miguel considerably. He looked round and noticed that his partners were also trying to get a look at the brands. He had to answer this uncomfortable question which had been hurled at him so unexpectedly. “The brand—well—the brand is—oh, you know that, it is a circle with a bar beneath it.”