“Right, Mas’r Harry, I’m here,” he exclaimed.

“Put half those about you in your different pockets, Tom,” I said.  And he did as he was bid, handling the little ingots as if they were so much lead.  “And, Tom, I want your advice.  I’ve come to the conclusion that it is not prudent to take all this through the woods at night, with Indians about.”

“That’s sense, that is,” said Tom, interrupting.

“I think, Tom, we’ll hide it ­all but this, which we’ll take back; and then we can come well prepared some other time, to carry the rest away.”

“Good, Mas’r Harry; but where’ll we hide it?”

“That’s what I’m thinking, Tom,” I said.  “Where do you think would be a good place?”

“Well, Mas’r Harry, I shouldn’t bury it, because that’s the way it was hidden afore; nor I wouldn’t chuck it down the big gulf place, as you call it; it would be safe enough, only we couldn’t get it again.”

“Don’t fool, Tom,” I said impatiently.

“Who’s a fooling?” said Tom gruffly.  “Tell you what, Mas’r Harry, I don’t think those Indian chaps would ever have the pluck to go right in where we’ve been.  What do you think of the way under the arch on the raft?”

“The very idea that struck me, Tom,” I said.

Then I told him my plans ­the result being that, at the end of a couple of hours, the little raft was prepared, launched, laden with our packages, and once more, with candles stuck in their clay sticks, we were poling ourselves along very slowly in the black tunnel.

The lights flashed on roof, and from off the water, which rippled over the bamboos and soaked us through and through; but we pressed slowly and steadily on till we must have been half-way to the vault of the troubled waters, when I whispered to Tom to stop.

We were now in a part where the tunnel widened out to thirty or forty feet, though the roof was not more than a foot above our heads, and remarkable for the streaks of a creamy spar which banded it in every direction.

“Tom,” I said in a whisper, as I glanced round to see that we were alone, “could we do better than this?”

As I spoke I was trying the depth with my bamboo pole, to find that, wherever I reached, there was not more than five feet of water.

“But suppose it’s that shivering sand, and it swallers it up, Mas’r Harry?”

“But it’s hard rock, Tom.  Feel,” I whispered.

There was no mistaking the firmness of the bottom; so, carefully marking the spot by a cross which I scored on the roof with my knife, we softly dropped in six golden packages over the side of our little raft, which seemed ready to leap out of the water on being released from its heavy burden.

A soft gentle splash in each case, and then the black waters closed over each package, a pang striking my heart as they disappeared; and I asked myself whether I was wise, now that I had gained the object of my search, to let it go from me again like that.  I was roused, though, from my reverie by Tom, who generally had a word of encouragement for me at the blackest times.

“There, Mas’r Harry, that’s covered up well, and it can be easily uncovered again; and I’ll lay my head agin a halfpenny apple, that if we don’t come to fetch that there, nobody else won’t; for unless we told, nobody wouldn’t never find it.”

I could not help thinking that Tom was right; and now, with my treasure found, and, as it were, banked for my use, I felt lighter of spirit, and we floated easily back in about the quarter of the time occupied in going; when, carefully taking our raft once more partly to pieces, we concealed it behind the rocks, and made the best of our way to the mules.

“Now, Mas’r Harry, you may do as you like; but I say, let’s get twenty or thirty of these stone icicles, just as if we’d come on purpose to fetch ’em, pack ’em atop of the mules, and ride bang out as if we were not afraid of anybody.”

It was good counsel, and I followed it, riding over the stony barrier just as the sun was setting.  The stalactites were swung in coffee-bags on either side of the mules, which, delighted at being once more in the open air, cantered off merrily whenever the track would allow.

It was just beginning to grow dark upon as glorious an evening as ever shone upon the gorgeous tropic world, when we reached the end of the ravine, and both became at the same instant aware of about a dozen Indians, who advanced quickly, making friendly signs, and repeating the word ­“Amigos!  Amigos!”

“They want to see what we’ve got, Mas’r Harry,” chuckled Tom.  “Don’t show fight unless they do.”

Professing to ask for tobacco and a light, the little party surrounded us; and, as if by accident, one man touched the bags, and contrived to see their contents, when he said something to his companions, to whom we civilly gave what they asked, showing no trace of tremor; while they were smiling and servile.  But I could not help feeling what would have been our fate had the lading of those mules been the treasure, for twelve to two were long odds.

It was evident that they were satisfied, and giving us the country salutation, they bade us good-night, and we moved off; but Tom pulled up, and shouted after the leader of the party, who returned; when, with a face whose gravity could be seen, even in that dim short twilight, to be extreme, Tom took out one of his smallest stalactites, held it up before him, and repeated the word “buono” three times, and then presented it to the Indian, who received it with grave courtesy and retired.

“There,” said Tom, “if he don’t go and tell his tribe that we’re madmen after that, why, I was never born down Cornwall way.  Say, though, Mas’r Harry, that was a narrow escape; those chaps watch that gold, and they thought we had it; and if we had been loaded that way I’m thinking that it would have been buried again, with two skulls and bones this time, and those would have been ours.”

I shuddered as I urged my mule onward, anxious to reach the hacienda, which we did earlier than I hoped for, stabled our mules, and then, relieving Tom of his golden burden, I went up to my room and secured it in my travelling case, before descending to find my uncle sitting, with Lilla kneeling beside him, holding his hand; and a glance showed me that both she and Mrs Landell had been weeping bitterly.

I was surprised to see them assembled at so late an hour, but taking no notice, I went up and shook hands.

“Well, Harry,” said my uncle sadly; “had enough of exploring yet?”

“Quite, Uncle,” I said.  “I have finished now.”

He looked up at me for a moment, and then fell to stroking Lilla’s golden hair.

“Well, lad, I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause; “but I may as well tell you, and be out of my misery.  But don’t think I blame you, lad ­don’t think I blame you, for I suppose it was to be.”

“What is it, Uncle?” I said in an indifferent tone.  “No new trouble, I hope?”

He glanced at me in a sadly disappointed way, and then said sternly: 

“I don’t reproach you, Harry; but that blow you struck Garcia has been my ruin, unless I buy his favour with this.”

As he spoke he laid his hand tenderly upon Lilla’s head, then drew her to him and kissed her lovingly.

“But we can’t do that, my little lamb ­we can’t do that,” he continued.  “We are to be turned out of the place; but I daresay there’s a living to be got ­eh, Harry?  You’ll not leave us, I suppose, now we’re in trouble?  You said you would not, and now, my lad, is the time to put you to the proof.  You’ll work now, won’t you?”

“Not if I know it, Uncle,” I said coolly.  “Why should I work?  I’m much obliged for your hospitality; but I feel now disposed to go back to England, and the sooner the better.”

My uncle did not speak, and a dead silence fell upon all.  I caught one sad, reproachful glance from Lilla’s eyes; and then she clung, weeping and whispering to my uncle, who, however, only shook his head.

“I think, my dears, we’ll go to rest,” he said at last suddenly.  “Lilla, my child, fetch the Book ­we’ll have one chapter in the old place for the last time, for who can tell where we shall be to-morrow?”

My heart burned within me as I longed to tell the true-hearted old fellow of my success, but I would not then.  The news of Garcia’s behaviour gave me an opportunity that I could not resist, and, after sitting in silence till my uncle had read his chapter and offered up a simple prayer for the protection of all, I allowed them to part from me almost coldly, though more in sorrow than in anger, and to go, aching of heart, to bed.

I knew that Tom would not say a word, so I was safe; and the next morning, after a sad, dull breakfast, I sat with them all in the darkened room, my uncle starting at every noise in the yard, where all looked bright and fair, while Lilla’s eyes met mine from time to time in mingled reproach and wonder at what seemed to her my heartless behaviour.

We had not long to wait, for it seemed that Garcia had declared his intention of being there that morning to demand payment of money, the greater part of which had been advanced to Mrs Landell when a widow ­a debt which my uncle had undertaken to repay at the same time that he had accepted further favours from this man.

We had not been seated there an hour when we heard Garcia’s voice in the yard, and Lilla crept closer to Mrs Landell.

“Harry,” said my uncle, “you must please leave the room.  I was in hopes that you would have gone out.  I cannot find it in my heart to give up without making an appeal to Garcia for time.”

“An appeal that shall end in a new bargain being made with respect to that poor girl!” I exclaimed.  “Uncle, be a man, or you will make me blush for you!”

My uncle was about to speak when Garcia noisily entered the room, his sneering, triumphant face turning pale with rage as he saw me seated there.

Mrs Landell and Lilla both cast an imploring glance at me, one which I answered by crossing over, taking Lilla’s hand, and whispering a few words of comfort and encouragement.

Garcia’s eyes flashed, but he kept down his resentment, and, advancing to the table: 

“Senor Landell,” he said, “I come to demand the money that is due to me, and which I must now have.  Of course you are prepared?”

“Prepared, Garcia?” said my uncle.  “I am not prepared ­you know that,” he continued sadly.  “But still these stringent proceedings will do you no good.  I ask you as a favour for time.  I am certain that I can realise more from the plantation than you can.  Give me time and it will prove to your advantage.”

“Miss Lilla,” said Garcia, advancing with a smile, “you hear your stepfather’s words.  It rests with you.  Shall I give him time?”

Lilla’s only reply, as I stood back, was a shudder, and she clung more closely to her mother.

The action was not lost upon Garcia, who stepped back rapidly to the door, uttered some words to a couple of men in waiting, and they followed him into the room.

“You have the papers,” said Garcia fiercely to the elder man, who seemed a sort of notary; “take possession of this place and all thereon, as forfeited to me in accordance with the bonds.  Senor Landell, in an hour I require you to be off this plantation.  As for you,” he exclaimed, turning to advance threateningly upon me, “you are an intruder.  This place is my property; leave here this instant!  Or stay,” he said with mock courtesy; “perhaps the gay young English senor will take compassion upon his uncle’s position and release him by paying his debt.  What does Senor Grant say?”

“Harry, for Heaven’s sake,” cried my uncle, “let there be no disturbance.  Take care, or there will be bloodshed!” he cried.

For as I advanced to confront Garcia he drew out a pistol.

“Stand aside, Uncle!” I exclaimed angrily, for he had caught my arm.  “I know how to deal with this cowardly bully!  Put up that pistol or ­”

I did not finish my sentence, for in obedience to a nod Garcia was dragged back into a chair, and Tom Bulk’s sturdy arms pinioned him, but not in time; for, with a cry of rage, he drew the trigger.  There was a sharp report, and then, as the smoke floated upward, a wild cry echoed through the room.