inca.gold-第93部分

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。　The　harsh　and　inhospitable　landscape　with　its　bounty　of　jagged　rocks；　cactus；　and　steep…sided　arroyos　could　easily　maim　an　unwary　steer。
　　　　He　was　searching　for　a　stray　calf　when　he　saw　the　stranger　approaching　on　the　narrow　trail　leading　to　his　village。
　　　　The　man　who　walked　through　the　desert　seemed　out　of　place。　Unlike　hikers　or　hunters；　this　man　wore　only　the　clothes　on　his　back　no　canteen；　no　backpack。　He　didn't　even　wear　a　hat　to　shade　his　head　from　the　afternoon　sun。　There　was　a　tired；　worn…to…the…bones　look　about　him；　and　yet　he　walked　in　purposeful；　rapid　strides　as　if　he　was　in　a　hurry　to　get　somewhere。　Curious；　Billy　temporarily　suspended　his　hunt　for　the　calf　and　rode　through　a　creek　bed　toward　the　trail。


　　　　Pitt　had　hiked　14　kilometers　（almost　9　miles）　across　the　desert　after　ing　out　of　an　exhausted　sleep。　He　might　still　be　dead　to　the　world　if　a　strange　sensation　hadn't　awakened　him。　He　blinked　open　his　eyes　to　see　a　small　rock　lizard　crouching　on　his　arm　staring　back。　He　shook　off　the　little　intruder　and　checked　his　Doxa　dive　watch　for　the　time。　He　was　shocked　to　see　that　he　had　slept　away　half　the　morning。
　　　　The　sun　was　already　pouring　down　on　the　desert　when　he　awoke；　but　the　temperature　was　a　bearable　30　degrees　Celsius　（86　degrees　Fahrenheit）。　The　sweat　dried　quickly　on　his　body；　and　he　felt　the　first　longing　for　water。　He　licked　his　lips　and　tasted　salt　from　his　swim　through　the　sea。　Despite　the　warmth；　a　cold　self…anger　crept　through　him；　knowing　he　had　slept　away　four　precious　hours。　An　eternity；　he　feared；　to　his　friends　enduring　whatever　misery　Sarason　and　his　sadists　felt　like　inflicting　on　them　this　day。　The　core　of　his　existence　was　to　rescue　them。
　　　　After　a　quick　dive　in　the　water　to　refresh　himself；　he　cut　west　across　the　desert　toward　Mexico　Highway　5；　twenty；　maybe　thirty　kilometers　away。　Once　he　reached　the　pavement；　he　could　flag　a　ride　into　Mexicali；　and　then　make　his　way　across　the　border　into　Calexico。　That　was　the　plan；　unless　the　local　Baja　telephone　pany　had　thoughtfully　and　conveniently　installed　a　pay　phone　in　the　shade　of　a　handy　mesquite　tree。
　　　　He　gazed　out　over　the　Sea　of　Cortez　and　took　one　final　look　at　the　Alhambra　in　the　distance。　The　old　ferryboat　looked　to　have　settled　in　the　water　up　to　her　deck　overhang　and　was　resting　in　the　silt　at　a　slight　list。　Otherwise　she　seemed　sound。
　　　　She　also　looked　deserted。　There　were　no　search　boats　or　helicopters　in　sight；　launched　by　an　anxious　Giordino　and　U。S。　Customs　agents　north　of　the　border。　Not　that　it　mattered。　Any　search　team　flying　a　reconnaissance　over　the　boat；　he　figured；　wouldn't　expect　to　look　for　anyone　on　land。　He　elected　to　walk　out。
　　　　He　maintained　a　steady　7…kilometer　（4。3…mile）　an…hour　pace　across　the　isolated　environment。　It　reminded　him　of　his　trek　across　the　Sahara　Desert　of　Northern　Mali　with　Giordino　two　years　before。　They　had　e　within　minutes　of　dying　under　the　fiery　hell　of　scorching　temperatures　with　no　water。　Only　by　finding　a　mysterious　plane　wreck　did　they　manage　to　construct　a　land　yacht　and　sail　across　the　sands　to　eventual　rescue。　Next　to　that　ordeal；　this　was　a　jaunt　in　the　park。
　　　　Two　hours　into　his　journey；　he　came　to　a　dusty　footpath　and　followed　it。　Thirty　minutes　later　he　spotted　a　man　sitting　astride　a　horse　beside　the　trail。　Pitt　walked　up　to　the　man　and　held　up　a　hand　in　greeting。　The　rider　gazed　back　through　eyes　worn　and　tired　from　the　sun。　His　stern　face　looked　like　weathered　sandstone。
　　　　Pitt　studied　the　stranger；　who　wore　a　straw　cowboy　hat　with　a　large　brim　turned　up　on　the　sides；　a　long…sleeved　cotton　shirt；　worn　denim　pants；　and　scuffed　cowboy　boots。　The　black　hair　under　the　hat　showed　no　tendency　toward　gray。　He　was　small　and　lean　and　could　have　been　anywhere　between　fifty　and　seventy。　His　skin　was　burnt　bronze　with　a　washboard　of　wrinkles。　The　hands　that　held　the　reins　were　leathery　and　creased　with　many　years　of　labor。　This　was　a　hardy　soul；　Pitt　observed；　who　survived　in　an　intolerant　land　with　incredible　tenacity。
　　　　〃Good　afternoon；〃　Pitt　said　pleasantly。
　　　　Like　most　of　his　people　Billy　was　bilingual；　speaking　native　Montolan　among　his　friends　and　family　and　Spanish　to　outsiders。　But　he　knew　a　fair　amount　of　English；　picked　up　from　his　frequent　trips　over　the　border　to　sell　his　cattle　and　purchase　supplies。　〃You　know　you　trespass　on　private　Indian　land？〃　he　replied　stoically。
　　　　〃No；　sorry。　I　was　cast　ashore　on　the　Gulf。　I'm　trying　to　reach　the　highway　and　a　telephone。〃
　　　　〃You　lose　your　boat？〃
　　　　〃Yes；〃　Pitt　acknowledged。　〃You　could　say　that。〃
　　　　〃We　have　telephone　at　our　meeting　house。　Glad　to　take　you　there。〃
　　　　〃I'd　be　most　grateful。〃
　　　　Billy　reached　down　a　hand。　〃My　village　not　far。　You　can　ride　on　back　of　my　horse。〃
　　　　Pitt　hesitated。　He　definitely　preferred　mechanical　means　of　transportation。　To　his　way　of　thinking　four　wheels　were　better　than　four　hooves　any　day。　The　only　useful　purpose　for　horses　was　as　background　in　Western　movies。　But　he　wasn't　about　to　look　one　with　a　gift　in　the　mouth。　He　took　Billy's　hand　and　was　amazed　at　the　strength　displayed　by　the　wiry　little　man　as　he　hoisted　Pitt's　82　kilograms　（181　pounds）　up　behind　him　without　the　slightest　grunt　of　exertion。
　　　　〃By　the　way；　my　name　is　Dirk　Pitt。〃
　　　　〃Billy　Yuma；〃　said　the　horseman　without　offering　his　hand。
　　　　They　rode　in　silence　for　half　an　hour　before　cresting　a　butte　overgrown　with　yucca。　They　dropped　into　a　small　valley　with　a　shallow　stream　running　through　it　and　passed　the　ruins　of　a　Spanish　mission；　destroyed　by　religion…resistant　Indians　three　centuries　ago。　Crumbling　adobe　walls　and　a　small　graveyard　were　all　that　remained。　The　graves　of　the　old　Spaniards　near　the　top　of　a　knoll　were　long　since　grown　over　and　forgotten。　Lower　down　were　the　more　recent　burials　of　the　townspeople。　One　tombstone　in　particular　caught　Pitt's　eye。　He　slipped　to　the　ground　over　the　rump　of　the　horse　and　walked　over　to　it。
　　　　The　carved　letters　on　the　weathered　stone　were　distinct　and　quite　readable。

Patty　Lou　Cutting
2/11/24…2/3/34

The　sun　be　warm　and　kind　to　you。
The　darkest　night
some　star　shines　through。
The　dullest　morn　a　radiance　brew。
and　where　dusk　es；
God's　hand　to　you。

　　　　〃Who　was　she？〃　asked　Pitt。
　　　　Billy　Yuma　shook　his　head。　〃The　old　ones　do　not　know。　They　say　the　grave　was　made　by　strangers　in　the　night。〃
　　　　Pitt　stood　and　looked　over　the　sweeping　vista　of　the　Sonoran　Desert。　A　light　breeze　gently　caressed　the　back　of　his　neck。　A　red…tailed　hawk　circled　the　sky；　surveying　its　domain。　The　land　of　mountains　and　sand；　jackrabbits；　coyotes；　and　canyons　could　intimidate　as　well　as　inspire。　This　is　the　place　to　die　and　be　buried；　he　thought。　Finally；　he　turned　from　Patty　Lou's　last　resting　place　and　waved　Yuma　on。　〃I'll　walk　the　rest　of　the　way。〃
　　　　Yuma　nodded　silently　and　rode　ahead；　the　hooves　of　the　buckskin　kicking　up　little　clouds　of　dust。
　　　　Pitt　followed　down　the　hill　to　a　modest　farming　and　ranching　munity。　They　traveled　along　the　streambed　where　three　young　girls　were　washing　clothes　under　the　shade　of　a　cottonwood　tree。　They　stopped　and　stared　at　him　with　adolescent　curiosity。　He　waved；　but　they　ignored　the　greeting　and；　almost　solemnly　it　seemed　to　Pitt；　returned　to　their　wash。
　　　　The　heart　of　the　Montolo　munity　consisted　of　several　houses　and　buildings。　Some　were　built　from　mesquite　branches　that　were　coated　with　mud；　one　or　two　from　wood；　but　most　were　constructed　of　cement　blocks。　The　only　apparent　influence　of　modern　living　was　weathered　poles　supporting　electrical　and　phone　lines；　a　few　battered　pickup　trucks　that　looked　as　if　they'd　barely　escaped　a　salvage　yard　crusher；　and　one　satellite　dish。
　　　　Yuma　reined　in　his　horse　in　front　of　a　small　building　that　was　open　on　three　sides。　〃Our　meeting　house；〃　he　said。　〃A　phone　inside。　You　have　to　pay。〃
　　　　Pitt　smiled；　investigated　his　still　soggy　wallet；　and　produced　an　AT&T　card。　〃No　problem。〃
　　　　Yuma　nodded　and　led　him　into　a　small　office　equipped　with　a　wooden　table　and　four　folding　chairs。　The　telephone　sat　on　a　very　thin　phone　book　that　was　lying　on　the　tile　floor。
　　　　The　operator　answered　after　seventeen　rings。　〃Si；　por　favor？〃
　　　　〃I　wish　to　make　a　credit　card　call。〃