For a second his old-time suspicion and doubt returned.

"But maybe," he added sorrowfully, "maybe they're jus' gla.s.s. Jus' my luck."

Nevertheless he believed sufficiently in them to return to the quest.

He struck match after match, wandering farther and farther into the darkness, hoping to find something with which he could make light enough to see around him. He gave a little cry of joy as he came upon an old-time altar light--a platter of oil containing a crude wick. He lighted this. The flame sputtered feebly, died down, then revived to a big, steady flame. With his arms at his side, his mouth wide open, he gaped at what the light revealed.

The cave was not large; this lamp disclosed its boundaries. It also disclosed other things, chief of which was a leering idol some three feet tall which squatted, cross-legged, with one hand extended. This hand held a polished diamond larger than a walnut. The eyes were of ruby which, catching the light, burned with ghoul-like ferocity, while the mouth grinned,--grinned with a smile which strangely resembled that of the Priest. The image was of gold. To the right and left, piled up as though they had been hastily thrown together, was a jumble of vases, bowls, plates, shields, all of beaten gold. They made a heap some four feet high, and from six to eight feet broad at the base.

Strewn about the foot of this were many little leather bags tied at the top with dried sinews.

Minute after minute Stubbs stared at this sight in silence. There was more gold here than he thought existed in the world,--so much that it lost its value. Here was enough almost to load down a ship. If he could crowd a few hundred dollars into a bag small enough to stuff into his pocket, this must run up into the millions. He had always spoken of a man worth a million with a certain amount of awe and doubt; and here lay ten, perhaps fifty, times that amount. At the end of forty years of sailing the seas he had saved a little over three thousand dollars against the days he should be old and feeble. Three thousand dollars! Two or three of those stones he had slipped into his pocket,--four or five of these plates of which there were hundreds!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Minute after minute, Stubbs stared at this sight in silence._]

He moved forward and tried to lift one of the big vases of crudely beaten gold. With his full weight against it, he could scarcely move it. Farther on there was a bar of gold heavier than three men could carry. To the left of this there was a pile of golden shields studded with jewels, strange ornaments, and heavy plates. Back of this he caught a glimpse of still other ingots of gold in the shadows.

And always the big image held extended towards him with a cynical leer the big, polished diamond which seemed rather to give out light from within itself than to reflect the altar flames. It blazed with a brilliancy that he had never seen equalled save by the stars on faultless winter nights.

He was too dumbfounded at first to take it all in. He turned about in a circle, resting his eyes again upon one thing after another, and then raised his hand and looked at that to make sure that he was seeing correctly--was not the victim of some strange illusion. Yes, his eyes were all right; he saw his calloused, big-jointed hand--the hand which had labored so long for a millionth part of what he now saw here. The gold and the jewels were within arms' reach of him--there was no longer any doubt about that. His luck must have turned.

He moved back to where Wilson still lay sprawled out upon his back only half conscious of his surroundings. He tried to speak calmly, but he blurted out,

"Gawd, man, there's tons of it!"

Wilson did not move or speak.

"Shiploads of it. Man! Man! wake up an' see what's afore yer eyes!"

"What is it, Stubbs?"

"Gold! Gold! Gold! The stuff thet outside here yer haster fight ter git a pinch of,--the stuff I've sailed aroun' the worl' ter git a handful of; the stuff ye've come so far on the bare chance of seein'."

"It's here, then? The treasure is here?"

"More than ever ye dreamed of. Small wonder that Sorez was willin' ter take chances agin the Priest if he knew of this."

Wilson brushed his hand over his eyes. The name roused him. This meant getting back to Sorez--getting back to him with proof of the treasure and so releasing the girl. He made his feet and stood a moment with his hand upon Stubbs' shoulder.

"I'm glad, Stubbs," he answered. "Now--now let's get back to her."

"Aye, we'll get back, but first we've got ter figger out some way for gittin' of this stuff out."

As a matter of fact, they learned that they were really facing something of a problem. It was a marvel how ever these things were got down here, but it would be a still greater task to get them out again.

Twenty fanatical worshipers of the Sun G.o.d gave their lives to bearing these priceless offerings from the lake to this cave with the incentive of winning everlasting happiness. It was a different problem for two tired and nerve-exhausted men to retrace their steps.

Even if it were possible to get the treasure to the surface, it would need a small army of men and burros to carry it over the mountains to civilization, and another small army to defend it while on the journey. It would be almost equally impossible, probably, for them ever again to reach this cave. If they were successful in getting out of this country alive now that the Priest was roused and the natives incensed over the death of their fellows, it certainly would be sure death ever to return. As for organizing a company either at Bogova or in America for the purpose of removing the treasure, Stubbs had the usual independent man's distrust of such means. It became clearer to him every minute that the only share of this h.o.a.rd of which they ever could be sure was what they might now take out with them. This practically eliminated the vast store of golden implements, for it was impossible to carry even the smallest of them on their shoulders over so rough and dangerous a trail as this. It began to look as though they had reached this treasure at length merely to be tantalized by it. The very thought was like a nightmare.

His eyes fell upon the small leather bags. Stooping, he picked up one of them, untied it and poured its contents upon the cave floor; a flashing stream of rubies rippled out and glowed at his feet in a tiny, blood-red heap. And there were a dozen more of these bags in sight!

"Lord, man!" he exclaimed below his breath, "it's 'nuff to make yer b'lieve ye're dreamin'."

The jewels gave him fresh courage. Here, at any rate, was a fortune which was within their present reach. They could carry these things back with them even though they were forced to leave the bulk of the treasure in its heavier form. A single one of these little leather bags was sufficient to repay them for their trouble if they didn't get anything else. But one thing was sure--their single chance of escaping with even these was to start at once. The Priest would undoubtedly have the whole region up in arms before dark, and, if he didn't find them before, would have a force at the mountain pa.s.s. It went against his grain to abandon such riches as these, but life and a few million was better than death with all the gold in the world piled about your tomb.

To Wilson, who in the last few minutes had become more himself, the treasure still meant just one thing--the opportunity of freeing Jo.

With this evidence he could return to Sorez and persuade him of the futility of his search in the lake itself and induce him to join his party and escape while there was time. If he didn't succeed in this, he would take the girl even if he had to do so by force.

"It's a case of grab and jump," said Stubbs. "You gather up the loose stones on the floor and I'll collect the bags. The sooner we gets to the top, th' better."

Stubbs took the altar light and made a careful search of the bottom of the cave for jewels. These were the things which embodied in the smallest weight the most value. It made him groan every time he pa.s.sed an ingot of gold or some ma.s.sive vase which he knew must run into the thousands, but at the end of ten minutes he felt better; the stones alone were sufficient to satisfy even the most avaricious. About the base of the grinning idol they found fourteen leather bags, each filled with gems. The loose diamonds which had been roughly thrown into a small pile would fill four bags more. Even Wilson became roused at sight of these. He began to realize their value and the power such wealth would give him. If the girl was still alive, he now had the means of moving an army to her aid. If she was still alive--but the day was waning and the Priest, now thoroughly aroused, doubtless moving towards her intent upon wiping out every stranger, man or woman, in the hills.

Stubbs was for going farther back into the cave and exploring some of the recesses into which they had not yet looked at all. But Wilson, with returning strength, became impatient again. The coca leaves which he had chewed constantly brought him new life.

"Lord! would you sell the girl for a few more bags of jewels, Stubbs?"

he burst out.

The latter straightened instantly and came nearer. But before he had time to speak, Wilson apologized.

"No, I know better, comrade, but I can't wait any longer to get to her. I'm five years older than I was a day ago."

The while they were gathering the little bags full of jewels, the big image in the corner smiled his smile and offered them the big diamond in his hand; the while they buckled the bags about their waists--as precious belts as ever men wore--the image smiled and offered; as they moved towards the mouth of the cave it still insisted. Yet for some reason neither man had felt like taking the stone. Stubbs felt a bit superst.i.tious about it, while Wilson felt enough reverence, even for heathen G.o.ds, to refrain. But still it smiled and offered. In the flickering flare of the altar light the stone burned with increasing brilliancy. It was as though it absorbed the flames and, adding new fuel, flashed them forth again.

Wilson led the way out. Before they left the cave Stubbs turned. He saw the image once again, and once again the stone. The temptation was too great, especially now that they were on the point of leaving--perhaps forever. He started back and Wilson tried to check him.

"I wouldn't, Stubbs. Those eyes look too ugly. It is only the mouth that smiles and----"

"Ye haven't turned heathen yerself, have ye?" he called back.

He stepped forward and clutched it. But the jewel was fastened in some way although it seemed a bit loose. He pulled strongly upon it and the next second leaped back, warned in time by a suspicious rumbling above his head. He looked down to see a slab of granite weighing half a ton on the spot where he had stood a moment before. It was an ingenious bit of mechanism arranged to protect the treasure; the jewel had been attached by a stout cord which, when pulled, loosed the weight above.

Not only this, but it became evident in a few seconds that it loosed also other forces--whether by design or chance, the two men never determined. They had pressed back to the path outside the cave, when they heard a rumble like distant thunder, followed instantly by a grinding and crashing. Before their eyes a large section of the cliff crashed down over the cave itself and into the chasm below. They didn't wait to see what followed, but made their way along the path as fast as they dared.

Neither man spoke again until a half hour later after a journey that was like a pa.s.sage through h.e.l.l, they lay exhausted in the sunlight above the chasm. The thunder of tumbling rock still pounded at their ears.

CHAPTER XXIV

_Those in the Hut_

In an angle formed by two cliff sides, within a stone's throw of the lake of Guadiva, a native, Flores by name, had built himself a hut.

Here he lived with his mate Lotta in a little Nirvana of his own, content with his love and his task of tending a flock of sheep which furnished them both with food and clothing. Few came near this hut.

The sky above, the lake before, and the mountains round about were all his, his and his alone even as was the love of the dark-eyed woman near him. Within their simple lives they had sounded the depths of despair and reached the heights of bliss.

The woman Lotta was the daughter of a chieftain of the tribe of Chibca, one whose ancestry went far back into the history of the Golden One. Some of them had been priests, some of them guards, and all of them had fought hard for their G.o.d. But the father of this girl incurred the displeasure of the Priest and finally, not yielding to discipline, his wrath. The stern autocrat of these tribes condemned him to extreme punishment--a fast of thirty days in the hut upon the mountain top--the hut of the Golden G.o.d. Cowed and frightened, the man, somewhat feeble with sickness, bade good-bye to his daughter and climbed the rugged path. Below, the girl waited day after day until the strain became unbearable. She ventured, knowing well what the penalty was, to visit him with food. She found him groaning upon the stone floor, eaten by fever and racked with pain. She nursed him until her supplies were exhausted and then came down for more, choosing a secret path which she in her rambles as a girl had discovered. It was then she heard whispered among the gossips news of a white stranger with marvelous powers who was hiding in the hut of a neighbor. It was just after the battle with the men from the sea--a battle terrible in its ferocity. This man was one of the refugees from the scattered army, sheltered at first for gold and later because of the power he possessed of stopping pain. A wounded native, member of the family which sheltered him, had been brought in suffering agonies and the stranger had healed him with the touch of a tiny needle. Lotta heard these things and that night found the stranger's hiding place and begged him to follow. He knew enough of the native language to understand and--to make his bargain. If she would guide him to the mountain pa.s.s, he would follow.

The man was Sorez.

The next few hours were burned into Sorez' mind forever. At her heels he had clawed his way up the steep hillside expecting at every step a spear thrust in his back. He tore his hands and knees, but, drawn on by a picture of the girl, moving shadow-like in the moonlight ahead of him, he followed steadily after. Pausing for breath once he saw the dark fringe of trees below the lava slopes, the twinkle of the camp fires, and over all the clear stars. But this region here was a dead region. He felt as if he were moving through some inferno, some ghastly haunt of moaning specters, with the dark-faced girl guiding him like some dead love. On they climbed in silence until his head began to swim with the exertion and the rarefied air. Suddenly the girl disappeared as though she had dropped over a precipice. To the left he saw a small path leading over a yawning chasm. She beckoned and he felt his way along. Then they came upon a tiny plateau upon which had been built a hut of rocks.