Could they see us, or could they not?

It was a hard trial sitting there motionless, wondering whether those eager, searching eyes could penetrate as far through the gloom as where we sat.  It seemed they could not, as, for full ten minutes, their owners rested there peering over the massive rocks.

The least movement on our part, a whinny or a snort from the mules, would have been sufficient to have betrayed our whereabouts, and bloodshed would, perhaps, have followed; but all remained still, save once, when I heard Tom’s gun-lock give a faint click just as first one and then another head was being withdrawn.

“There, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom in a whisper.  “What do you think of that?  They’re on the look-out for us you see.  And we got grumbling about the little dam breaking, when what did it break to do?  Why, to smooth over the rough work we had done, so as those copper-coloured gentlemen shouldn’t see it and make a row.  But, say Mas’r Harry, I a’most wonder they didn’t see the water look thick.  P’r’aps they will yet, so I wouldn’t move.”

Tom’s advice was so good that we sat for quite a couple of hours, when I told him of the plans I had made.

“Tom,” I said, “it was an act of folly for us to be working there without one of us watching.  I tell you what we must do, we must rest till it begins to grow dusk, and then begin working in the dark.  Do you see?”

“Well, I can see now, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom grinning; “but I don’t see how I’m going to see then.  How so be:  just as you like.  I’m ready when you are.”

The afternoon passed, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and the dark shadows began to fall, just as with a loud shriek bird after bird winged its way out of the cavern for its nightly quest of food.  We stole to the barrier, looked long and cautiously down the valley, and then set to work in the dim and fast-fading light to dam the stream ­ this time taking the precaution to lay lumps of rock and stalactites in the bed to support our embankment of sand and earth; when once more the stream took another course, the bed was dry, and in silence we stepped down to the site of our former labours.

I was not so sanguine now of the toil proving remunerative; but from the little knowledge I possessed of the Indian’s superstitious character I felt pretty sure that they would not venture by night to a cavern whose interior was clothed by them with endless mysterious terrors, though it possessed terrors enough, as we well knew, without the aid of superstition.  But all the same, there was the chance of others having an object in watching us, so every spadeful was thrown out in silence, every word spoken in a whisper.  The night came on impenetrably black and obscure, but we worked on, feeling our way lower and lower, taking turn and turn, till once more we stood in the pit we had dug, and commenced groping about with our hands, for the spades told us that we had come to whatever was buried.

“More of these yaller stones,” said Tom.

We threw out as quietly as we could a couple of hundred rough lumps about the size of those fragments of granite used for macadamising a modern road.

“Tom,” I said, after trying about with my spade, “there’s something more here.  I believe those pieces were put in to deceive whoever searched.”

“Let me clear out a little more of the sand, Mas’r Harry.”

He threw out a few more spadefuls, filling the spade each time with his hands so as to throw out nothing more than sand; and then once more we began to feel about.

“What’s that, Tom?” I whispered hastily.

I knew by his exclamation that he had found something particular.

“Nothin’ at all,” said Tom sulkily.

“I insist upon knowing what it is,” I cried angrily, as I caught him by the arm.

For ­it must have been the influence of the gold ­I again felt suspicious.

“There it is, then,” said Tom gruffly, “ketch hold.”

I eagerly took that which he had handed to me, and then with a shudder of disgust hurled it away, as the gravedigger scene in “Hamlet” flashed across my mind; and then we worked on in silence.

“Bones,” said Tom, “flint-knife things, and, hallo! what’s that you’ve got, Mas’r Harry?” he exclaimed in a sharp whisper.

In my turn I had uttered an exclamation as my hands came in contact with a flat heavy piece of metal, which, upon being balanced upon a finger and tapped, gave forth a sonorous ring.

“I don’t know, Tom,” I whispered huskily, “but ­but it feels like what we are in search of.”

“Do you think it is gold, Mas’r Harry?” he hissed in a voice that told of his own excitement.

“Gold or silver, Tom,” I said in a choking voice.

Then I felt faint.  Suspicions of a horrible nature seemed to float across my brain.  “Suppose,” I thought, “Tom should murder me now to possess himself of the treasure, load the mules, and then bury me in the grave we had dug.  The water would flow over it again in a few hours, and who would ever suspect the man who went away laden with wealth?”

The next moment, though, I had driven away the base thoughts, and was leaning against the rock above me.

“Tom,” I said, “I’m faint; go and fetch the spirits.”

“I will that, Mas’r Harry,” he whispered, “for I don’t know how it is, I’m feeling rather queer myself.  It’s this stuff, I think.  I’ve got hold of one of these little tiles, and one can’t see it, but it feels yaller.”

Tom passed another plate into my hands, when running my fingers over it my heart beat more rapidly, for I could feel an embossed surface that told of cunning work, and I longed intensely to get a light and examine what we had found though I knew such a proceeding would be folly.

In a few minutes Tom was back, and a draught from the bottle we had brought revived us, so that we quickly cleared out the wet sand and water that kept filtering in, and then as fast as we could grope drew out plate after plate and placed them in one of the coffee-bags Tom had brought.

We did not need telling that it was gold.  The sonorous ring told that as plate touched plate.  The darkness, as I said, was intense.  But I could almost fancy that a bright yellow phosphorescent halo was spread around each plate as we drew it from its sandy bed.

“But suppose, Mas’r Harry, as it’s only brass?” whispered Tom suddenly.

“Brass, Tom?  No, it’s gold ­rich, yellow gold; and now who dares say I’m a beggar?”

“Not me, Mas’r Harry.  But I won’t believe it’s gold till I’ve seen it by daylight.  ’Tain’t lead, or it wouldn’t ring.  ’Tain’t iron, for it will cut.  I’ve been trying it.”

“Hush, Tom!” I said hoarsely.  “Work ­work! or it will be day, and we shall be discovered.”

As I spoke I bent down into the hole to drag out what felt like a vase, but all beaten in and flattened.  Then another, and four or five curiously shaped vessels.

“Fetch another bag, Tom,” I whispered; for the one we now had felt heavy, and I wanted them to be portable.

“Wait a bit, Mas’r Harry,” whispered Tom.  “Here’s a rum un here ­big as a table top.  Lend a hand, will you.”

Both trembling with excitement we toiled and strained, and at last extricated a great flat circular plate that seemed to weigh forty or fifty pounds, and stood it against the rock.

And now in the wild thirst I forgot all about bags or concealment as we kept scraping out the sand and water, and then brought out more plates, more cups, thin flat sheets, bars of the thickness of a finger and six inches long.  Then another great round disc similar to the one I had dragged out with Tom; and then ­then ­sand ­water ­sand ­water ­sand ­ one solitary plate.

“There must be more, Tom!” I whispered excitedly.  “Where is the rod?”

He felt about for a few minutes, and I heard the metal clinking upon metal as he drew the iron rod towards him.  Then, feeling for the pointed end, he thrust it down here and there again and again.

“Try you, Mas’r Harry,” he said huskily.

I took the rod, and felt with it all over the pit; but everywhere it ran down easily into the sand, and I felt that we must have got all there was hidden there.  And now, for the first time, I began to think of the value.  Why, if this were all pure gold that lay piled-up by our side, there must be thousands upon thousands of pounds’ worth ­twenty thousands at the least.  But a pang shot through my brain the next instant, for the thought had struck me, suppose it should prove but copper after all.

The day would show it, and the day I hoped would soon be there.  But now a new trouble assailed me.  What about Tom ­what share would he expect?

“Mas’r Harry,” said Tom just then, “if this here all turns out to be gold you’ll be a rich man, won’t you?”

“Yes, Tom,” I said, “very wealthy.”

My words would hardly leave my lips.  “Then you’ll do the handsome thing by me when I get married, won’t you, Mas’r Harry?”

“What shall I do, Tom?” I said, wondering the while what he would say.

“’Low me a pound a week and my ’bacco as long as I live.”

“Yes, Tom, two if you like,” I exclaimed aloud.  “But now lend a hand here and let’s get these behind the rock farther in.”

Fatigue!  We never gave that a thought, as, each seizing one of the round shields, we carried them cautiously in and felt our way to where was the food, taking back with us more of the coffee-bags, in which we carefully packed the flattened cups, and each bore back a heavy bag, but only hastily to return again and again to collect the plates, and sheets, and bars we had rapidly thrown out; when we returned once more to throw ourselves upon the sand and feel over it with our hands again and again, creeping in every direction, forcing in our fingers and running the sand through them till we felt certain that nothing was left behind.

“Now, then, Tom,” I said.  “Quick! ­the spades.  There must not be a trace of this night’s work left at daybreak.”

Tom’s hard breathing was the only response, as, seizing his spade and giving me mine, he forced back the sand, helping me to shovel it in until the floor was once more pretty level, and we knew the water would do the rest, even to removing the traces of our running to and fro, unless the sharp Indian eye should be applied closely to the floor of the cavern.

We toiled on, working furiously in our excitement, feeling about so as to compensate as well as we could for the want of sight, till I knew that no more could be done, when, retreating inward to where we had dammed the stream, we let the water flow swiftly back into its old channel, leaving the bits of rock where they were, save one or two whose loosening soon set the water free, so that it swept with a rush over the place where we had so lately toiled; and then, dripping with perspiration and water, we went and sat down to eat and rest just as the first faint streaks of dawn began to show in the valley, and we could see that there was a barrier across the mouth of the cave.