Worn out with fatigue the task was at last set aside for the day, and in honour of their great success, ’Pollo’s best endeavours had been called into question to prepare what was quite a banquet, during which Mr Parkley was congratulated by his friends in turn, and afterwards, when seated in the comparative cool of the evening, the question was discussed as to there being any risk attending their proceedings.
“I don’t suppose we are right from some points of view,” said Mr Parkley, gaily. “But let’s secure all the treasure, and we’ll talk about that afterwards. We shall give you a rich cargo, Studwick.”
“I hope so,” was the reply, “but you’ll have to go on for many days at this rate before I am overloaded.”
“Wait a bit, eh, Dutch Pugh. I think we shall astonish him yet. Come, a glass of champagne, man. You are low with your accident. What are you dreaming about?”
“I was wondering,” said Dutch, quietly, “whether we ought not to take more precautions.”
“What about? Indians ashore?”
“No; sailors afloat.”
“Quite right,” said the captain.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Dutch, “that we must not excite the cupidity of these men by letting them see too much of the treasure, or mischief may follow. There are several fellows here whose looks I don’t like.”