Chapter Thirty Seven.
Slippery Metal.
That cry was from Lilla, who ran to my uncle’s side just as he staggered to a chair, holding his face with both hands.
“Not much hurt, I think,” he gasped; “but it was a close touch—a sort of farewell keepsake,” he said with a faint attempt to smile.
It was, indeed, a narrow escape, for the ball had ploughed one of his cheeks so that it bled profusely, and I could have freely returned the shot in the rage which I felt.
Perhaps it would have been better for all parties had I fired, for it would only have been disabling as black-hearted a scoundrel as ever breathed. But my plans were made, and by an effort I kept to them, just as the notary was about to flee in alarm.
“Loose him, Tom,” I said; and Garcia started up, foaming almost at the mouth. “Keep back there,” I cried, “and do not let me see one of those hands move towards breast or pocket. The instant I detect any such act I fire.”
Garcia stood scowling for a few moments but not meeting my eye, and I continued addressing the notary:
“Give me full particulars of this amount, and I will pay it.”
“You, Harry—you!” exclaimed my uncle.
“You!—you vile impostor! You beggar and vagabond! You do not possess an onza of gold,” roared Garcia, bursting forth into a fit of vituperation. “Don’t listen to him; don’t heed him; it’s a trick—a plan. I take possession. The money was to be paid this morning, and it is not paid, so I seize the plantation.”
“You are the business man,” I said coolly to the notary—with that coolness that the possession of money gives—“this is a mining country, and gold in ounces should be current.”
“The best of currency, señor,” said the notary with a smile and a bow.
“Tell me the amount, then, in ounces,” I said, “and I will pay you.”
“Don Xeres,” gasped Garcia, almost beside himself with rage, “I will take no promises to pay.”
The old notary shrugged his shoulders.
“But, Señor Garcia, there are no promises to pay. I understand the English señor to say that he will pay—at once! Am I not right, señor?”
“Quite,” I said. “Uncle, I will lend you this amount.”
“But, Harry, my dear boy, you are mad! You have no idea of the extent.”
“Two hundred and five ounces would equal the amount in pesos d’oro which Señor Landell is indebted,” said the notary quietly.
“Good!” I said. “Then will you have proper balances brought? Uncle, see to the return of your papers.”
“I am in the hands of Señor Xeres,” said my uncle in a bewildered tone. “He will see justice done.”
The old notary bowed and smiled, while I crossed to where my leather case stood upon a side-table, brought it to my chair, and then seated myself, slowly unbuckling the straps and unlocking it while the balances were brought, when I drew out six of the little yellow bar ingots and passed them over to the notary, who was the banker of the district as well.
He took them, turned them over, wiped his glasses, and replaced them; then examined each bar again.
“Pure metal, I think, señor?” I said, smiling.
“The purest, Señor Inglese,” he replied with another bow.
Then, placing the ingots in the balances, he recorded each one’s weight as he went on, to find them, with a few grains variation more or less, six ounces each.
Five times, to Garcia’s astonishment and rage, did I bring from the case in my lap six of the golden bars, the notary the while testing and weighing them one by one in the coolest and most business-like way imaginable. Then his spectacles were directed inquiringly at me, and I brought out four more, which were duly weighed and placed with the others. Then again were the spectacles directed at me.
“Another ounce, less a quarter, señor,” said the notary. “I have here two hundred and four ounces and a quarter.”
“Fortunatus’s purse wants aiding, Uncle,” I said, unwilling to exhibit more of the golden spoil. “You can manage the three-quarters of an ounce?”
My uncle was speechless; but he rushed to a secretary, took out a little canvas bag, and counted out the difference in coin. When, coolly drawing out bags of his own, the notary made up a neat package of the bars, inclosing therewith his account of the weights, tied it up, lit—with apparatus of his own—a wax taper, sealed the package, and handed it to Garcia, who took it with a fierce scowl, but only to dash it down the next instant upon the table.
“I will not take it,” he exclaimed. “It is a trick—the gold is base!”
“Señor Don Pablo Garcia, I have—I, S. Xeres—have examined and proved that gold,” said the old notary. “I say it is pure, and you cannot refuse it. Señor Landell, there are your bonds now. Señor Garcia is angry, but the business is terminated.”
Rising and bowing to us with a courtly grace that could win nothing less than respect, the old notary handed some deeds to my uncle, and then, picking up the gold, he passed his arm through Garcia’s and led him away—the notary’s attendant following with his master’s writing-case and balances.
But the next moment a shadow darkened the door, and Garcia would have rushed in had not Tom blocked the way.
“Now, then, where are you shovin’ to, eh?” grumbled Tom; and there was a scuffle, and the muttering of a score of Spanish oaths, with, I must say, a couple of English ones, that sounded to be in Tom’s voice, when Garcia shouted, in a voice that we could all hear:
“Tell him there is another debt to pay yet, and it shall be paid in another coin!”
The door closed then, and it was evident that Tom was enjoying the act of seeing Garcia off the premises, while the next minute my uncle was holding me tightly by both hands and my aunt sobbing on my neck.
“And I was saying you were like the rest of the world—like the rest of the world, Harry, my dear boy,” was all my uncle could say, in a choking voice, and there were tears in his eyes as he spoke.
“Say no more, Uncle—say no more,” I exclaimed, shaking him warmly by the hands.
Then he took his wife to his heart, telling her in broken words that there was to be peace at the old place after all.
It must have been from joy at the happiness I was the means of bringing into that home, or else from the example that was set me, for the next moment I had Lilla in my arms, kissing her for response to the thanks looking from her bright eyes; and even when my uncle turned to me I could only get one hand at liberty to give him, the other would still clasp the little form that did not for an instant shrink.
“Too bad—too bad, Harry—too bad!” said my uncle, with a smile and a shake of the head. “I am no sooner free of one obligation than I am under another; and so now, on the strength of that money, you put in your claims.”
“To be sure, Uncle,” I said laughing; “and you see how poor Lilla suffers.”
I repented saying those words the next moment, for Lilla shrank hastily away, blushing deeply.
My uncle and I were soon left alone, when, holding out his hand to me, he said, in a voice whose deep tones told how he was moved:
“Harry, my boy, I can never repay you the service you have done me; but if I live I will repay you the money.”
“Look here, Uncle,” I said, “once and for all—let that be buried. There, light your cigar; and I can talk to you.” Then, taking our places in a recess by one of the shaded windows, I spoke to him in a low tone. “You know how I have spent my time lately?”
He nodded.
“Treasure-seeking?”
He nodded again.
“Uncle, at times it almost seemed to me a madness; but I persevered and succeeded. Look here!”
I tore open the case and showed him the sixteen golden ingots remaining.
“And you found all that, Harry! My boy, you were fortunate indeed.”
“All that, Uncle!” I said with a smile. “That is not a hundredth part. I am rich. I? No! We are rich; and now I want your advice. What are we to do? for I’ve hidden my treasure again till I can fetch it away in safety.”
“You have done well, then,” he said gravely. “But is not this some delusion, my boy?”
“Are these delusive, Uncle?” I exclaimed, clinking together two of the sonorous little bars. “Were those delusive which Garcia has carried off? No, Uncle, I thought once it must be a dream; but it is a solid reality. I have found the treasures of one of the temples of the Sun—ingots, plates, sheets, cups, and two great shields besides, all of solid metal.”
“Harry,” said my uncle, “it sounds like a wild invention from some story-teller’s pen, and I should laugh in your face but for the proofs you have given me. But you must not stay here in this country. It is as much yours as any lucky adventurer’s, but your right would be disputed in a hundred quarters; while, as for the Indians—”
“Disputed, Uncle?” I said interrupting him. “Disputed if it were known. You know it.”
“Does any one else?” said my uncle anxiously.
“Tom was with me. We found it together,” I said, “and he helped me to conceal it again. But I could trust him with my life. In fact, Uncle,” I said laughing, “we owe one another half-a-dozen lives over our discovery, for either I was saving his life or he was saving mine all the time.”
“But the Indians, Harry—the Indians! That is a sacred treasure—the treasure devoted to their gods, hence its remaining so long untouched. If they knew that you had taken it, no part of South America would hold you free from their vengeance. They would have your life, sooner or later.”
“Pleasant place this, certainly, Uncle,” I said laughing; “what with Garcia and the Indians.”
“I don’t think it could become known from those ingots,” said my uncle musingly, “though Garcia will rack his brains to find out how you became possessed of them. And yet I don’t know; you see they have two or three characters stamped on them that the Indians might know. But were you seen?”
“Coming from the place, Uncle? Yes, I suppose I must have been watched constantly. But all the same, I have the treasure hidden away; and as to the risk from the Indians, I don’t feel much alarmed; and you may depend upon it that they are in the most profound—What’s that?”
My uncle uttered an ejaculation at the same moment, for as I spoke, rapid as the dart of a serpent, a dark shadowy arm was passed under the blind close to the little table where we sat, and on looking there were but fifteen of the little ingots left.
“Stop here! I’ll go,” I exclaimed.
In an instant I had torn aside the blind, pushed open the jalousie, and leaped out into the outer sunshine, to stand in the glare, looking this way and that way, but in vain: there were flowers, and trees, and the bright glare, but not a soul in sight.
I stood for an instant to think; and then, feeling for my pistol to see if it was there if wanted, I dashed across the plantation towards the forest, peering in every direction, but without avail; and at last, more troubled than I cared to own, I returned, dripping with perspiration, to the hacienda, to meet Tom.
“Say, Mas’r Harry, what’s the good o’ running yourself all away, like so much butter? ’Tain’t good for the constitution.”
“Have you seen any Indians lurking about to-day, Tom, anywhere near the place?”
“Not half a one, Mas’r Harry, because why? I’ve been fast asleep ever since I saw the Don off the premises.”
“Keep a good look-out, Tom,” I cried.
Then I hurried in to my uncle, who looked troubled.
“I don’t like that, Harry,” he said. “There were eavesdroppers close at hand. I thought I would go too, but I saw nothing. Not a man had been out of the yard. But there, take the gold up to your room and lock it in the big chest; the key is in it. I put it here for safety till you got back, and—confound!”
We gazed in blank astonishment, for as my uncle opened his secretary and laid bare my leather case, which he had locked and strapped up, there it was with the straps cut through, the lock cut out, and the fifteen ingots gone!