“Well,” said Ned. “So far he has been very good in the management of the ranch. I wonder if he can be in league with that Sackett gang?”
“Hard to tell,” said Terry. “I don’t like the thought of the senorita living alone with that fellow around, and not a woman for miles.”
There was a pause, and then: “I don’t like it, either,” spoke Ned, frankly. “But she claims that she is not afraid. She goes armed all the time and is very determined to be a success at raising cattle and caring for herself. Pride, you know, is something that the Spanish are great for, and I’m afraid she has more than her share. However, sometime——”
He did not finish his thought, but the boys thought that they knew what he had in mind. They arrived at the ranch in silence and relieved the professor’s anxiety.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SEARCH IS BEGUN
“According to this thing,” said Terry, with a grin, “if we find that treasure the dragon will eat us!”
It was on the following day and the entire group was bent over the manuscript which had been written by the long dead priest. The book lay spread out on the library table before them, yellow and fragile, with corners which threatened to fall away to dust at their touch. Rotted cord held it together and had broken in so many places that the ancient book held together by a miracle.
They had read together the thrilling story of the flight from the English barks, of the wreck in the lonely creek, and the description of the treasure up to the point where the missing pages spoiled the worthwhileness of the manuscript.
“That galleon must have been pretty big,” Jim had said. “How big is an English bark?”
“A bark is a three-masted, square-rigged vessel. The mizzenmast is fore-and-aft rigged, if I remember my history correctly,” the professor replied. “There are still barks left in service, and you can see that they were of a fair size from the fact that they had three masts.”