As soon as my uncle had recovered from his astonishment he took out and loaded a couple of brace of pistols, laying one pair ready to hand and placing the others in his pockets.

“Harry, my lad,” he then said seriously, “we have entered upon something that will take all our wits to compass.  We have cunning people to deal with; but Englishmen have brains of their own, and perhaps we can circumvent those who are against us.  I wonder whether Garcia will get safe home with his share.”

I was too much put out to think or care much about Garcia just then.  Certainly I did think it a good thing that he had been paid off, and the principal current of my thoughts just then tended to a congratulatory point as I thought of how much more serious the loss might have been.  That I had done right in concealing the treasure was evident; and there it must lie, I thought, until I could bear it at once away out of the country.

My musings were interrupted by my uncle.

“Harry,” he said, “I’d give something if the women were away from here.  I hope I am magnifying the trouble; but I fear that we are going to be between two fires; and, at present I hardly know what course to pursue.  I’m afraid of your gold, my lad, but a prince’s fortune must not be slighted; and my conscience does not much upbraid me with respect to helping you to secure it.  But we must not pass over this robbery in silence.  That was done by no one here, I am sure.  We must try and put an end to eavesdropping so close at hand, or more strange things may happen.  Now, take my advice:  both you and Tom go well armed, don’t stir many yards from the plantation; and now come with me and let us carefully search the place inside and out.  Nearly a hundred ounces of gold taken within the last few minutes, and part even from under our eyes.  It won’t do, Harry ­it won’t do!”

Tom was called in, armed, and then the place was thoroughly searched inside and out, but without avail; not a trace could be seen, till, after a few minutes’ thought, my uncle made a sign to me, placed Tom in one position, me in another, and then disappeared into the house.

Five minutes after there was a loud cry, the sharp crack of a pistol, and what seemed like some beast of prey leaped from one of the upper windows full twelve feet to the ground, about half-way between Tom and myself.

With a rush we made for the falling object, grasping it as it fell to the earth; but the next instant I was sent staggering back, as the Indian ­for such it was ­bounded up, striking me in the chest with his hand; while, when I gathered myself together again, Tom was standing alone, and my uncle came running out holding a handkerchief to his face, which had recommenced bleeding.

“Did you stop him?” he said.

“Stop!” cried Tom.  “It was like trying to stop a thing made of quicksilver.  But,” he continued with a grin, “I’ve got his skin; he left that in my hands, and I say, Mas’r Harry, if he wasn’t made of quicksilver he was of gold.”

For at that moment, as Tom shook the dark native cloth garment left in his hands by the fleeing Indian, the sixteen ingots fell to the ground, to be instantly secured.

“Harry,” said my uncle, “I told you we had to deal with a cunning enemy.  That fellow was in the space between the ceiling and roof of my bed-room.  How he got there I can’t tell; but,” he added with a shudder, “I fear if he had not been dislodged some of us would not have seen the morning’s light.”

“But pursuit, Uncle,” I cried.  “Let us try and overtake him.”

“No ­no,” he said uneasily.  “We should only be led into a trap in the forest, and we are too weak for that.  I’m afraid, Harry, that this affair is going to assume dimensions greater than we think for.  It is evident that the Indians suspected you of having been at their sacred treasure, and despatched a spy to watch if their suspicions were correct.  I tried to bring him down, but I had only a momentary glance and I must have missed him.  No, Harry, there must be no pursuit but plenty of scheming for defence, if we wish to hold that which we have got.  As I said before, there is no knowing where this will end.  Which way did he go?”

“Right away towards the forest, sir,” said Tom.

“Perhaps only to slip back and watch by some other path,” muttered my uncle.  “Give me the bars, Harry, and I’ll take them in, while you and Tom walk cautiously round before coming to me.  Go one each way, right round, so as to meet again here, and then come in and we will talk matters over a little.  But stay ­tell me ­did you see anything of the Indians, do you say, as you came back?”

I repeated the incident of being surrounded, and the way in which Tom presented a stalactite to the principal man.

My uncle smiled grimly.

“Tom,” he said, “you must look out, or that stalactite will come back with interest.  I’m afraid that we English do not give the Indians credit for all the brain they possess.  They may have once been a simple, childlike race, but long oppression has roused something more in their breasts.  You must look out, lads ­look out.”

My uncle left us, and Tom started one way, I the other, to look watchfully and carefully round for danger; although, to my way of thinking, it was decidedly a work of supererogation there in broad daylight, with the sun pouring down his intensely bright beams.  There was the creeper-overhung verandah on one side, which, at a glance, I could see was untenanted; there, on the other side, was the garden-like plantation, with its gorgeous blossoms and flitting birds.  The rows could be easily scanned, and I looked down between them; but it was evident that there was no danger to apprehend nearer than the forest; and I reached one corner of the verandah just as a parrot gave one of its peculiar calls, to be answered by another behind me.

This was followed by a regular chorus from the woods, every parrot within hearing setting up a series of its ear-piercing shrieks, which in turn started birds of other kinds; the toucans hopping about from branch to branch uttering their singular barking cries, as they raised high their huge bills, which looked as if they would overbalance their bodies, but were as light as if made of paper and as thin.

It did not seem a time to notice such things, but somehow they impressed themselves upon my mind, and I could not help letting my eyes rest upon a pair of the most magnificent trogons I had ever seen.  They were in the full beauty of their gorgeous golden-green plumage, which contrasted strongly with their brilliant scarlet breasts.  Where they were perched there was an opening among the trees and the full blaze of the sun came down upon their backs, crests, and yard-long tail-feathers which glistened and sparkled at every movement as if formed of burnished metal.

This set me thinking of the golden treasure, and a sort of childish fancy came upon me as to whether these birds might be inhabited by the spirits of some of the old gold-loving Incas, who were watching over their treasure and waiting about to see what steps I should take next to steal that store away.

I walked on, met, and passed Tom, who remarked upon the improbability of the copperskin showing up again; and then I continued my patrol slowly round the house, past the court-yard, where all was still, and at last found Tom where we had parted from my uncle.

“Seen anything, Tom?” I said.

“Lizard cutting up the verandy, Mas’r Harry, and a bee-bird buzzing about over the flowers:  nothing else.”

I led the way into the room, and Tom followed, to stand at the door, picking his cap, and waiting to be told to come in.

“Don’t stand there, Tom,” I said; “come in and sit down.  You are to be one of the privy-councillors.”

“All right, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, seating himself close to the door.

My uncle not being in the room, I supposed that he had gone to secure the gold, and walked across to where lay my cut and destroyed leather valise, which I was turning over when I heard what had never thrilled through the rooms of my uncle’s house since I had been there ­namely, a light, heart-stirring, silvery-like song, and for a few moments I stood listening, as it came nearer and nearer, till Lilla tripped into the dark room, to start, stop short, and then colour up upon finding the place occupied.

The next moment I was by her side restraining her, for she would have darted away, and as I looked in her eyes I could read the story of the happy little heart rejoicing at being freed from a hateful bondage.

I must give Tom the credit of being a most discreet companion, for he suddenly found that it would be possible to repair my valise, and for the next quarter of an hour he was busily cutting and unpicking the great coarse stitches.

I was startled from my dreams back to the realities of life, for during that quarter of an hour existence had been bright and golden enough for me, without thinking of anything else; and the gold, the Indians, my uncle ­everything had been forgotten, when Mrs Landell entered the room.

“Have you seen your uncle?” she said to me, rather anxiously.

“Not during the last quarter of an hour or so,” I replied.  “He left us to come indoors.  Go and see if he is in the yard,” I said to Tom.

Tom went, to return in about five minutes with the news that my uncle had not been there for some time.

“Are you sure he came in?” said my aunt.

“Well, no ­not sure,” I replied; “he left us to come in.  But, by the way, Aunt, where would my uncle put plate or money that he wanted to keep in safety?”

“Oh, in the strong chest in his little office here,” said my aunt, leading the way to a small cupboard of a room just large enough for his desk, a stool, and an old sea-chest in which he kept his books, and, it seemed, such money as he had not in use.

But my uncle had evidently not been there, for the door was closed, and, after a moment’s thought, Mrs Landell remembered that her husband had not asked her for the key, which was in her pocket.

We waited ten minutes, after which both Tom and I went out to make fresh inquiries, but without avail; then, pausing in the doorway, Tom said to me in a low tone: 

“Mas’r Harry, you always laughed at me, and said I was making bugbears; but we’ve been watched and dodged ten times as much as you think for.”

“Perhaps so, Tom,” I said moodily.

“And I don’t want to make no more bugbears now,” continued Tom; “but I’m sure as if some one told me, or as if I saw it all myself, that your uncle has been dropped on, and they’ve got him and the gold too this time, Mas’r Harry.”

“Absurd, Tom!  Why, he had not half-a-dozen yards to go.”

“Then they was half-a-dozen yards too many,” said Tom sullenly.  “We didn’t ought to have left him, Mas’r Harry.”

“But you don’t for a moment think ­”

“No, Mas’r Harry, I don’t; but I feel quite sure as they’ve burked him, and got him away with them bars of gold.  You see if they haven’t now!”

It seemed so improbable that I was disposed to laugh; but I felt the next instant that it could be no laughing matter, and with a feeling of anxiety at my heart that would not be driven away, I turned to enter the house just as there was a noise and confusion in the yard, and, to my surprise, old Senor Xeres, the notary and banker, was assisted into the hacienda, closely followed by his attendant, both bleeding freely.

Tom looked meaningly at me, and the next minute we were helping to bear the old Spaniard to a couch, when, his wounds being roughly bound up, and a stimulant given, he told us in tolerable English that about three miles from the hacienda, while on his way to the nearest town, he had been set upon suddenly, and in spite of the resistance offered by himself and servant, they had been roughly treated, and the gold intrusted to him by Pablo Garcia had been taken away.

Again Tom gave me a meaning look, and I wondered whether the thoughts which suggested those looks could be correct.

“Was Senor Garcia with you?” I said at last.

“No,” said the notary; “he left us within ten minutes of our quitting this house, or he might have helped us to beat the scoundrels off.  Only think, senor ­two hundred and five ounces of pure gold!”

“For which you are answerable?” I said, inquiringly.

“No, no,” said the notary.  “I would not take it to be answerable, only at the Senor Don Garcia’s risk.”

“But why does not your uncle come back, Harry?” said my aunt uneasily.  “He would not be out of the way now unless there was something very particular to keep him.”

“We’ll go and have another look, Aunt,” I said.  “We may find him somewhere in the plantation.”

Signing to Tom to follow, I walked out to stand beneath the verandah till Tom joined me.

“They’ve got it all back again, Mas’r Harry, safe,” said Tom gloomily, as soon as he stood facing me.

I did not answer.

“And we shall have to look pretty sharp to get the rest away,” he continued, prophetically.

“Never mind the gold, Tom,” I said, with a strange uneasy feeling troubling me.  “Let us first see what has become of my uncle.”