CHAPTER XX
THE TAR BARREL
Jim and Terry looked helplessly at the Mexican overseer as he faced them with levelled rifle and the cool assurance that he would kill them to keep the treasure from the galleon for himself. They tried to believe that he was only joking, but from the set on his face and the glint in his eyes they knew better. All too often in the history of gold hunting and discovery had the discoverers paid for it with their lives, so that someone else could reap the reward.
“But why should you wish to kill us, senor?” Jim asked in Spanish. “Have not we agreed to see that you have a large share in it?”
“How do I know that you will keep your word to me?” the Mexican answered.
“Well, I like that!” cried Jim. “We know how to keep our word, Senor Alaroze!”
“What of it?” returned the overseer, with a slight shrug. “Why should I not have all of it instead of a small part?”
“Oh, well, if you feel that way about it,” said Jim, turning pale.
While Jim had been talking Terry had been doing some rapid thinking. They were standing close to the man, and the extended muzzle of the rifle was within easy reach. Any kind of motion toward it would be sure to be disastrous, and Terry knew it. There was one thing needed and Terry did it. With great coolness, a feeling which he was far from possessing, he looked over the shoulder of the overseer.
“Well,” he said, carelessly. “I guess neither of us will get the treasure. Here comes Sackett and his party.”
He used just the right amount of conviction in his tones and he won. Jim looked away over the Mexican’s shoulder and was fooled as completely as the overseer. With a muttered imprecation the man turned his head slightly to see who was back of him. That motion was his undoing. Quick as a flash Terry’s foot came up in a splendid football kick that sent the rifle flying upward. Before the astonished ranchman could move the red-headed boy flung himself on him and punched him a hard wallop on the stomach. With a groan the Mexican sank to the ground.