I wanted to take a little flyer at Guaymas to see if I could
run across this Handy Solomon person, but Denton pointed out that
Anderson would be expecting just that, and would take mighty good care
to be scarce. His idea was that we'd do better to get hold of a boat
and some water casks, and lug off the treasure we had stumbled over.
Denton told us that the idea of going back and scooping all that dinero
up with a shovel had kept him going, just as the idea of getting even
with Anderson had kept me going. Schwartz said that after he'd carried
that heavy gold over the first day, he made up his mind he'd get the
spending of it or bust. That's why he hated so to throw it away.

There were lots of fishing boats in the harbour, and we hired one, and
a man to run it for next to nothing a week. We laid a course north,
and in six days anchored in our bay.

I tell you it looked queer. There were the charred sticks of the fire,
and the coffeepot lying on its side. We took off our hats at poor
Billy's grave a minute, and then climbed over the cholla-covered hill
carrying our picks and shovels, and the canvas sacks to take the
treasure away in.

There was no trouble in reaching the sandy flat. But when we got there
we found it torn up from one end to the other. A few scattered timbers
and three empty chests with the covers pried off alone remained. Handy
Solomon had been there before us.

We went back to our boat sick at heart. Nobody said a word. We went
aboard and made our Greaser boatman head for Yuma. It took us a week
to get there. We were all of us glum, but Denton was the worst of the
lot. Even after we'd got back to town and fallen into our old ways of
life, he couldn't seem to get over it. He seemed plumb possessed of
gloom, and moped around like a chicken with the pip. This surprised
me, for I didn't think the loss of money would hit him so hard. It
didn't hit any of us very hard in those days.

One evening I took him aside and fed him a drink, and expostulated with
him.

"Oh, HELL, Rogers," he burst out, "I don't care about the loot. But,
suffering cats, think how that fellow sized us up for a lot of
pattern-made fools; and how right he was about, it. Why all he did was
to sail out of sight around the next corner. He knew we'd start across
country; and we did. All we had to do was to lay low, and save our
legs. He was BOUND to come back. And we might have nailed him when he
landed."