Scattered over the surface of the knoll were a large number of flat stones. Lifting one of the largest of these, he hurled it against one imbedded in the ground, dented in the form of a cross. The ground suddenly gave way and disclosed an opening sufficient to admit a horse.
It was a plank-trap; cunningly covered with earth, its existence would never have been suspected by the uninitiated. It was hung on stout leathern hinges fastened to two upright posts.
The hollow hill was divided into two chambers, one within the other. The first was dark and was only lighted by the opening of the door. The floor was the ground, the walls the hillside, the ceiling the summit. The only furniture it contained was a huge water-bucket, a rusty gun or two, several tattered blankets, and a resinous, partially-consumed torch.
Pedro noticed this torch, and his eyes sparkled.
“Just where I left it a year ago—in this chink. Now I am certain I was the last one here—now am I certain of finding the hidden treasure.”
He lighted the torch, and after looking out into the plain, started toward the inner chamber. But suddenly stopping, he went back to the entrance.
“I might as well bring the horse inside now,” he said. “Perhaps I may be obliged to spend a week here. He will be out of sight, too.”
Going out he brought in the horse, and then tightly closed the entrance. Then his eyes fell on the water-vessel.
“I wish I had some water,” he said; “and no doubt the horse thinks the same. But there is a stream ten miles north—Alkali Creek. The water is not very good, but it is wet. I will go after I’ve searched awhile.”
Unsaddling the horse, and leaving him to roam at will about the chamber, he again took up the torch and went to the entrance of the inner one.