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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"Arizona Nights"

We looked the rest
through, but found nothing but the gold coins. The altar
ornaments and jewels were lacking.

"Probably buried in another box or so," said Denton.

Schwartz wanted to dig around a little.

"No good," said I. "We've got our work cut out for us as it is."

Denton backed me up. We were both old hands at the business, had
each in our time suffered the "cotton-mouth" thirst, and the
memory of it outweighed any desire for treasure.

But Schwartz was money-mad. Left to himself he would have staid
on that sand flat to perish, as certainly as had poor Billy. We
had fairly to force him away, and then succeeded only because we
let him fill all his pockets to bulging with the coins. As we
moved up the next rise, he kept looking back and uttering little
moans against the crime of leaving it.

Luckily for us it was winter. We shouldn't have lasted six hours
at this time of year. As it was, the sun was hot against the
shale and the little stones of those cussed hills. We plodded
along until late afternoon, toiling up one hill and down another,
only to repeat immediately. Towards sundown we made the second
bay, where we plunged into the sea, clothes and all, and were
greatly refreshed.


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