She began packing the golden cups and dishes. He set about helping her. He thought, ruefully, that this was a commonplace thing enough to satisfy her. She accepted his aid without comment, looked at him no more. When the last shining cup was in the pannier, he turned and went toward the tent to get together his duffle, pack his burro. The voices of Starrett and Soames came to him. "But she's not Indian, Soames," Starrett was speaking. "She's whiter than you and me. What are they? And the girl—Christ!" "What they are we'll find out, never fear," said Soames. "To hell with the girl—take her if you want her. But I'd go through a dozen hells to get to the place where that stuff they're carrying samples of comes from. Man—with what we could carry out on the burros and the llama and come back for—man, we could buy the world." "Yes—unless there's a trap somewhere," said Starrett, dubiously.
"We've got the cards in our hands," the wine was wearing off Soames. "What's against us? An old dummy and a girl. Now, I'll tell you what I think. I don't know who or what they are, but whoever or whatever, you can bet there ain't many of them. If there was, they'd be landing on us hard. No—they're damned anxious to get us away and they're willing to let us get out with what we can to get us away. They want to get rid of us, quick and cheap as possible.
Yeah—that's what they want. Why—because they damn well know the three of us could wipe 'em all out." "Three of us?" echoed Starrett. "Four, you mean. There's Graydon." "Graydon don't count—the louse! Thought he'd sold us out, didn't he? All right—we'll fix Mister Graydon when the time comes. Just now he's useful to us on account of the girl. She's stuck on him. But when the time comes, to divide—there'll be only three of us. And there'll only be two of us—if you do anything like you did this morning."
"Cut it out, Soames," growled Starrett. "I told you it was the hooch. I'm through with that, now that we've seen this stuff. I'm with you to the limit. Do what you want with Graydon. But—I want the girl. I'd be willing to make a bargain with you—give up a part of my share." "Oh, hell," drawled Soames. "We've been together a good many years, Bill. There's enough and plenty for the three of us. You can have the girl for nothing." Little flecks of red danced before Graydon's eyes. Hand stretched to tear open the tent flap, he checked himself.
That was no way to help Sierra. Unarmed, what could he do? In some way, he must get his guns. And the danger was not imminent—they would do nothing before they reached that place of treasure to which Sierra had promised to lead them. He stole back a dozen paces, waited for a moment or two; then went noisily to the tent. He thrust aside the flap and entered. "Been a long time comin'," snarled Soames. "Been talkin'—after what I told you?" "Not a word," lied Graydon, cheerfully—he busied himself with his belongings. "By the way, Soames, don't you think it's time to stop this nonsense and give me back my guns?". Soames made no answer.