“Why don’t we dig now?” Big Joe asked.
“And everybody in Tortilla Flat would come to help us,” Pilon said sarcastically.
They looked hard at the surroundings, saying, “Now there are three trees together on the right, and two on the left. That patch of brush is down there, and here is a rock.” At last they walked away from the treasure, memorizing the way as they went.
At Danny’s house they found tired friends. “Did you find any?” the friends demanded.
“No,” said Pilon quickly, to forestall Joe’s confession.
“Well, Pablo thought he saw the light, but it disappeared [63] before he got to it. And the Pirate saw the ghost of an old woman, and she had his dog with her.”
The Pirate broke into a smile, “That old woman told me my dog was happy now,” he said.
“Here is Big Joe Portagee, back from the army,” announced Pilon.
“Hello, Joe.”
“You got a nice place, here,” said the Portagee, and let himself down easily into a chair.
“You keep out of my bed,” said Danny, for he knew that Joe Portagee had come to stay. The way he sat in a chair and crossed his knees had an appearance of permanence.
The Pirate went out and took his wheelbarrow and started into the forest to cut his kindlings; but the other five men lay down in the sunshine that broke through the fog, and in a little while they were asleep.
It was midafternoon before any of them awakened. At last they stretched their arms and sat up and looked listlessly down at the bay below, where a brown oil tanker moved slowly out to sea. The Pirate had left the bags on the table, and the friends opened them and brought out the food the Pirate had collected.
Big Joe walked down the path toward the sagging gate. “See you later,” he called to Pilon.
Pilon anxiously watched him until he saw that Big Joe was headed down the hill to Monterey, not up toward the pine forest. The four friends sat down and dreamily watched the evening come.
At dusk Joe Portagee returned. He and Pilon conferred in the yard, out of earshot of the house.
“We will borrow tools from Mrs. Morales,” Pilon said. “A shovel and a pickax stand by her chicken house.”
When it was quite dark they started. “We go to see some girls, friends of Joe Portagee’s,” Pilon explained. They crept into Mrs. Morales’ yard and borrowed the tools. And then, from the weeds beside the road, Big Joe lifted out a gallon jug of wine.
“Thou has sold the treasure,” Pilon cried fiercely. “Thou art a traitor, oh dog of a dog.”
Big Joe quieted him firmly. “I did not tell where the [64] treasure was,” he said with some dignity. “I told like this, ‘We found a treasure,’ I said, ‘but it is for Danny. When Danny has it, I will borrow a dollar and pay for the wine.’ ”
Pilon was overwhelmed. “And they believed, and let you take the wine?” he demanded.
“Well—” Big Joe hesitated. “I left something to prove I would bring the dollar.”
Pilon turned like lightning and took him by the throat. “What did you leave?”
“Only one little blanket, Pilon,” Joe Portagee wailed. “Only one.”
Pilon shook at him, but Big Joe was so heavy that Pilon only succeeded in shaking himself. “What blanket?” he cried. “Say what blanket it was you stole.”
Big Joe blubbered. “Only one of Danny’s. Only one. He has two. I took only the little tiny one. Do not hurt me, Pilon. The other one was bigger. Danny will get it back when we find the treasure.”
Pilon whirled him around and kicked him with accuracy and fire. “Pig,” he said, “dirty thieving cow. You will get the blanket back or I will beat you to ribbons.”
Big Joe tried to placate him. “I thought how we are working for Danny,” he whispered. “I thought, ‘Danny will be so glad, he can buy a hundred new blankets.’ ”
“Be still,” said Pilon. “You will get that same blanket back or I will beat you with a rock.” He took up the jug and uncorked it and drank a little to soothe his frayed sensibilities; moreover, he drove the cork back and refused the Portagee even a drop. “For this theft you must do all the digging. Pick up those tools and come with me.”
Big Joe whined like a puppy and obeyed. He could not stand against the righteous fury of Pilon.
They tried to find the treasure for a long time. It was late when Pilon pointed to three trees in a row. “There!” he said.
They searched about until they found the depression in the ground. There was a little moonlight to guide them, for this night the sky was free of fog.
Now that he was not going to dig, Pilon developed a new theory for uncovering treasure. “Sometimes the money is in sacks,” he said, “and the sacks are rotted. If you dig [65] straight down you might lose some.” He drew a generous circle around the hollow. “Now, dig a deep trench around, and then he will come up on the treasure.”
“Aren’t you going to dig?” Big Joe asked.
Pilon broke into a fury. “Am I a thief of blankets?” he cried. “Do I steal from the bed of my friend who shelters me?”
“Well, I ain’t going to do all the digging,” Big Joe said.
Pilon picked up one of the pine limbs that only the night before had served as part of the cross. He advanced ominously toward Big Joe Portagee. “Thief,” he snarled. “Dirty pig of an untrue friend. Take up that shovel.”
Big Joe’s courage flowed away, and he stooped for the shovel on the ground. If Joe Portagee’s conscience had not been bad, he might have remonstrated; but his fear of Pilon, armed with a righteous cause and a stick of pine wood, was great.
Big Joe abhorred the whole principle of shoveling. The line of the moving shovel was unattractive. The end to be gained, that of taking dirt from one place and putting it in another, was, to one who held the larger vision, silly and gainless. A whole lifetime of shoveling could accomplish practically nothing. Big Joe’s reaction was a little more simple than this. He didn’t like to shovel. He had joined the army to fight and had done nothing but dig.
But Pilon stood over him, and the trench stretched around the treasure place. It did no good to profess sickness, hunger, or weakness. Pilon was inexorable, and Joe’s crime of the blanket was held against him. Although he whined, complained, held up his hands to show how they were hurt, Pilon stood over him and forced the digging.
Midnight came, and the trench was three feet down. The roosters of Monterey crowed. The moon sank behind the trees. At last Pilon gave the word to move in on the treasure. The bursts of dirt came slowly now; Big Joe was exhausted. Just before daylight his shovel struck something hard.
“Ai,” he cried. “We have it, Pilon.”
The find was large and square. Frantically they dug at it in the dark, and they could not see it.
“Careful,” Pilon cautioned. “Do not hurt it.”
[66] The daylight came before they had it out. Pilon felt metal and leaned down in the gray light to see. It was a goodsized square of concrete. On the top was a round brown plate. Pilon spelled out the words on it:
UNITED STATES GEODETIC SURVEY + 1915 + ELEVATION 600 FEET
Pilon sat down in the pit and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
“No treasure?” Big Joe asked plaintively.
Pilon did not answer him. The Portagee inspected the cement post and his brow wrinkled with thought. He turned to the sorrowing Pilon. “Maybe we can take this good piece of metal and sell it.”
Pilon peered up out of his dejection. “Johnny Pom-pom found one,” he said with a quietness of great disappointment. “Johnny Pom-pom took the metal piece and tried to sell it. It is a year in jail to dig one of these up,” Pilon mourned. “A year in jail and two thousand dollars fine.” In his pain Pilon wanted only to get away from this tragic place. He stood up, found a weed in which to wrap the wine bottle, and started down the hill.
Big Joe trotted after him solicitously. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Pilon.
The day was bright when they arrived at the beach, but even there Pilon did not stop. He trudged along the hard sand by the water’s edge until Monterey was far behind and only the sand dunes of Seaside and the rippling waves of the bay were there to see his sorrow. At last he sat in the dry sand, with the sun warming him. Big Joe sat beside him, and he felt that in some way he was responsible for Pilon’s silent pain.