The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

by B. TRAVEN

  Don Manuel was too clever to be caught so easily. He made only very poor shipments to Mexico City, shipments that looked so cheap that he was pitied by everybody because he had to work so hard for such small winnings. He shipped only what he needed to buy better tools, provisions, and money for wages.

  At the mine, however, he began to accumulate and to pile up the rich outputs, hiding them away and waiting for the day when he would make a great last shipment and then leave the mine to whoever wanted what was left.

  Although the mine gave him great riches, he treated his Indian laborers worse than slaves. He hardly paid them enough to keep them alive, and he made them work so hard that often they broke down. Day and night he was after them, whip in hand, and using his gun whenever he thought it necessary. Indians, particularly those of the North American continent, cannot be treated in this way for long. No wonder that one day there was rebellion in the mine of don Manuel. His wife escaped, but don Manuel was slain and the mine destroyed. The Indian laborers left for their homes.

  Doña María then received word that the mine was abandoned and that it seemed to be safe once more. She came back and found all the treasures untouched, in the same hiding-places where they had been left. She buried her husband and then thought of working the mine again.

  She should have been easily satisfied for the rest of her life with the silver and the gold that had been piled up during the last years, under the management of don Manuel. On seeing this bullion before her, however, she was seized by a mania of grandeur. Hailing from a poor family in a provincial town of Spain, she suddenly imagined herself returning to her native country the richest woman in the world. She was still young and agreeable to look upon. Coming home with unheard-of riches at her command, she could buy the most ancient and beautiful castles in Spain, and she could select for her husband a member of some noble family, perhaps even a duke. She might become a member of the court of the mighty King of Spain, or even lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty the Queen. She could show the folks at home what a poor girl from a poor family such as hers could achieve in life if possessed of intelligence. Why, the daughters of Spanish grandees had married princes of the Aztecs, of the Tarascans, of the Peruvians. Then why should not she, being of pure Spanish blood, marry a Spanish marquis?

  From the moment when that idea took possession of her, she became a changed woman. A dormant business instinct in her awakened and made her do things she would never before have dreamed of doing. She began to consider how much half a dozen castles in Spain might cost; how much a duke might spend during his lifetime; how much it would cost to keep up all these castles, including an army of servants, the best horses, elegant carriages, life at court, journeys to France and Italy, and all that was essential for a really great noblewoman married to a pauperized duke or marquis. It reached a fantastic sum. She included the taxes and the special donations to the church she would have to make to be left in peace by that mighty institution. Included in these donations also was a cathedral to be built near the mine and the resting-place of her husband. After she had summed up the whole amount, she decided to double it so as to be on the safe side and to cover any mistake she might have made in her calculations. It came to a figure which, when written down, was almost a foot long. Yet she was not afraid of this figure, for she was convinced that she could have it inside a certain length of time, because the mine seemed to contain unlimited riches.

  6

  There followed truly hard years in which she had to live and battle for the goal she had set for herself. Far from civilization, far from even the smallest comfort, she was at her post day and night. She knew no rest or fatigue. Whenever she felt as though she would break down, she only had to think of the duke and of the castles in Spain, and back came all her strength.

  Doubtless she faced the conditions confronting her far better than her husband ever was able to do. She got along with the laborers without paying them much higher wages than had her husband. She was robust in her way, tenacious, and even hypnotic when dealing with men. If with force she could not make men do what she wanted them to do, then she tried all sorts of diplomacy, and always won them oyer to her will. She could laugh like a jolly drunken coach-driver; she could weep heartrendingly when it seemed expedient; and she could swear like a highwayman. If nothing else would do, she could pray and preach so convincingly that begging monks would have given her their last highly treasured gold pieces.

  She paid her men just enough so that they had always a little more than they needed, and for that they stayed on.

  It was not alone the problems concerning the working-men that she had to solve day in, day out. The mine was forever in danger of being robbed by gangs of bandits composed of escaped convicts, murderers at large, deserters from the army, and all sorts of soldiers of fortune and adventurers. Hordes of criminals such as the world has not seen since, and of the scum of the towns, swarmed the country—mestizos, Indians, and white outlaws and outcasts. It was the time when, owing to the American and the French revolutions, the power of Spain on the American continents began to totter, and in consequence of that all sound economic conditions began to break up, for rebirth of political and economic conditions was in sight.

  From these hordes of outlaws doña María was never secure, and she had to use all kinds of tricks and camouflage to keep them from finding the treasure. When they came upon the mine, as happened at times, she had to pretend to be the poorest of human beings under heaven, working like a slave, not for her own profit, but to atone for a horrible sin she had committed against the church, to conciliate which she had to labor hard to build a cathedral.

  Finally there came a time when doña María was overcome by such a longing for her native land, for a clean house, for a pretty kitchen, for a beautiful bedroom and a soft bed with a male companion in it, and for surroundings free from mosquitoes, fever, polluted water, snakes, and other horrors that she knew she could stand this life no longer. She felt she had to leave now or she would go insane. She wanted to see the faces of Christians again instead of Indians, of whom she now frequently became really afraid, as a man quite suddenly may become afraid of his great Dane for no particular reason whatever. She was longing to speak to decent persons of her own race in an uncorrupted language; she wanted to be caressed by someone she loved; she wanted to dress like the women she was thinking of who still lived in cities.

  All this came over her so suddenly and unexpectedly that she had no time to collect her thoughts or to analyze her feelings as she had done formerly. She found she no longer had the strength to conquer these desires. She knew she had to go or she would do something foolish—perhaps give herself to one of the Indians or kill herself or kill all the men or take out all the bullion and scatter it about.

  She made a final balance of her treasure and found that it would be enough for whatever life she wanted to lead in Spain. She could not even wait a week more so as to plan the homeward trip carefully.

  7

  Lately doña María had hired two Spanish soldiers who had come this way and who either had deserted or had been discharged. With the help of these two men she formed a special guard composed of mestizos and of Indians and fairly well armed. This guard had become necessary owing to the increase in the number of bandits roaming the country.

  One of the Spanish soldiers was made captain of the day, the other captain of the night. This guard proved valuable now that doña María had decided to break camp, pack up, and take her riches to Mexico City and from there to good old Spain. The transport would have been practically impossible without an armed convoy.

  The metal, of which about one sixth was gold, the rest silver, had been properly smelted and was in bars. In this form it was packed away in crates and boxes and even in baskets made by the Indians. The value of the treasure may be figured from the fact that about one hundred and thirty strong mules were needed to carry the metal alone.

  8

  The pack-train, accompanied by thirty-five men, o
f whom twenty were well armed, got under way. They had to march nearly fourteen hundred miles from the mine to the capital, through deserts, across rivers and ravines, and up ten thousand feet across the high passes of the Sierra Madre. They had to hew their way through jungles and virgin forests. They passed through the Tierra Caliente—that is, the tropical districts of the lower regions of the country. They climbed over the stormy and ice-cold ridges of the highest ranges of the Sierra and down again to the tropics. The transport was threatened by heavy tropical rains and cloudbursts; and while traversing long stretches of deserts and rocky lowlands, the beasts almost died of thirst.

  The transport in itself was lively enough. Doña María was never short of excitement. Mules with their packs broke away and had to be caught; others fell and were killed, and at times their packs had to be hauled up from the depths of a ravine. Other beasts were drowned, and their packs had to be fished out of the torrents of a river. There was never a day without its own peculiar adventure.

  An evening came when doña María found the camp stirred up. She investigated and saw that one of the Spanish captains was making trouble.

  He strode up to doña María. “Now, listen here,” he said, “and listen well, lady. Will you marry me or not? And no perhaps, if you know what is good for you.”

  “I marry you? You? A stinking highwayman? I marry such a god-damned son of a bitch? Marry you?”

  “All right, hussy,” the man said; “I can easily get a greater beauty. I can take it all very well without you being thrown in like a dry bone.”

  “What can you, cabrón and son of a dog, take without me, you stinking coyote?”

  “I mean, of course,” the Spaniard explained, “I can take, without marrying you, all that is in the packs.”

  “Oh, can you? Is that so? Well, you’ve made yourself clear. Thanks for the notice.”

  The Spaniard grinned at her. He waved his right hand and drew doña María’s attention to where the men were camped. “Look at that, fine lady. Perhaps now you are ready to go to church with me and after that to bed. Or before, just as you say, dear. I’ll give you just one hour to find out that you are really in love with me. I don’t need you, see? But I’ll take you just for your own sake.”

  “Why wait an hour? I am not used to waiting.” Doña María had not lost her bearings. “Fine work you have done, you skunk; I admit that and I admire your courage. I like that type of yours.”

  She looked toward the camp and saw the other captain tied to a tree, and all the Indians bound with ropes and lying helpless on the ground. The mestizos alone were standing up. It was these mestizos whom the Spaniard had won over to his side by promising a rich cut of the booty.

  “Yes,” doña María repeated, “yes, fine work indeed! You’ve done a very good job.”

  “And that means you will come to reason, my fine lady,” the Spaniard suggested. “I hope you won’t delay any longer.”

  “Right you are, you god-damned devil. I won’t delay any longer.” Doña María said this very quietly. She stepped close to one of the many saddles lying on the ground and with a quick move she gripped one of the heavy mule-whips. Before the Spaniard realized what she was doing, she lashed him such a terrific blow across his face that he staggered back and fell, covering his eyes and moaning. With the speed of lightning she gave his face half a dozen lashes so mercilessly that he rolled over as if blind and crawled away, covering his head and his face with one arm, using the other to help him up and out of the blows.

  This was only the beginning. The mestizos were so stunned by what they had just seen that they did not try to run away. Before they had time to come to their senses, the whip swept across their faces. Those who did not drop to the ground ran away, hiding their heads in their arms. Not for an instant did they think of attacking the raging woman. By the time they felt safe enough to go back, doña María had cut the bonds of the Spaniard who was tied to the tree and had handed him a knife to free all the Indians that had been faithful to their mistress.

  The Indians lost no time getting their horses and lassoing the mestizos trying to escape.

  Doña María lined them up with the treacherous captain in front.

  “Hey, you dirty cabrón, chingue tu matrícula y abuela,” she yelled at him. “What did you say? Didn’t you propose to marry me? And didn’t I tell you that you will be in hell before I would even think of taking you? Hang that god-damned funking cabrón and make a good job of it. Let me see how he sticks out his blasphemous tongue. Up with him!”

  While he was swinging from the tree, doña María shouted at the mutinous mestizos: “And you, you funking pus-covered dogs of swine, it surely would do my sore eyes good to see you all dangling from the branches, too. What the hell shall I do with you? Peel off your stinking leather by tying you to the tails of horses and letting the Indians ride them, and after that hang you, hang all of you? I’ll get a reward from the crown for doing the job for the hangman you escaped. All right, you stinking scoundrels, I’ll show you mercy, as I surely hope to receive mercy from the Most Holy Virgin on my last day. I shall leave a hole by which you may escape. Sooner or later you will run straight into the hangman’s noose anyhow, no worry about that. I won’t spoil his earnings; maybe he has a big family to feed. But make no mistake, if I ever catch any one of you again playing your nasty damned tricks against me, I tell you that you will rather wish you had been tortured by the Holy Inquisition instead of by me, you sons of lousy——well, you know your mothers better than I can imagine them. And that’s that. Get to work. Hey, wait a minute. You don’t have to stay here with me. I can do without you. But there will be no wages if you leave. If you wish to stay on I will give each one of you the horse he has been riding, and you may each keep the pistol received from me, and the saddles. And, maybe—I say maybe—a bonus in cash, outside your wages. Now to work! Saddles mended and the mules doctored! Hustle up!”

  The men went off quietly.

  “Don’t you dare to cut down that hanging devil,” she yelled after two of the gang who wanted to let the corpse down from the tree. “Leave his carcass to the buzzards. His soul is already in hell.”

  When the mestizos were all busy about the packs, mending broken saddles, curing the sore backs of the mules, stuffing with grass the pads of the pack-saddles, and cooking their meals, doña María called the Spaniard who had been faithful. Whether he would still be loyal to her tomorrow or next week she did not know. He might get it into his head to try it next time for himself, avoiding the mistakes the other had made. He was hardly better than the hanged captain. He had only missed his chance this time.

  Doña María understood the situation very well. She knew that strong impression upon him. But doña María was a woman and he might, just because of that fact, try the same trick again and come out better, knowing her tricks. After all, he had the Indians on his side.

  Doña María understood the situation very well. She knew that she could not trust him. She had good reasons for trying to conciliate the mestizos by making them gifts they had never expected. It was now the strong point in her diplomacy to create two parties, each hating the other. In this way she could always have one party on her side, playing it against the other. She considered which of the mestizos she would make captain of his group so as to have it under better command. The troop that was on duty during the night guarding the camp against bandits or rebellious Indians could easily overpower her and all the rest of the men, kill them all and make off with the goods. Under such conditions it took the brains of a great leader to bring the transport to its destination.

  She called for the captain. “What is your name, hombre?”

  “Ruego Padilla, doña María, Ruego Padilla, su muy humilde servidor. I am your humble servant, doña María, at your very kind command.”

  “Bien, don Ruego.” Doña María laid a slight stress on the “don.” Ruego was taken in. He and his hanged partner had heretofore never been addressed by doña María in any other way than �
��Hombre, hey!” or “Tu, ven acá!” He felt like a soldier decorated in front of his fellows, who would never amount to anything.

  “Very well, don Ruego,” doña María spoke up. “I have not been blind to your great abilities. You behaved like a real nobleman, a brave caballero and a true and honest protector of a defenseless woman. I admire you for what you have done and the way you did it.” She gave him a smile.

  The fact was, of course, that he had done nothing in particular. He had been taken by surprise by the other captain, and with the help of a couple of mestizos had been tied to the tree, kicked in the ribs, and left to look at what was going to happen in the camp. Had it not been for the courage of doña María, he would now have to serve his former partner or hang from a tree.

  Doña María knew this very well, but she ignored the truth and made him believe that she thought he had fought like a lion to protect her. This flattered him immensely.

  Yet doña María had only begun to play her game to make sure of her safety for the rest of the march.