Chapter Thirty One.
The Hidalgo’s Dignity upset.
That night I forgot all past perils as I dreamed of gold—swimming in it—rolling in it—for it seemed to possess all the qualities of quicksilver, and whenever I tried to hold it or sweep it up it all escaped through my fingers.
I woke at last with a start, with my chest heaving, and my face and limbs bathed with a cold, dank perspiration.
As far as I could judge it wanted a couple of hours to daybreak; but I felt too much agitated to try and sleep again. So rising and hurrying on my clothes, I sat there, hour after hour, thinking and planning my future course, for a night’s rest had not weakened my convictions.
The determination I came to at last was, that I could not do better than smother my impatience for a whole week; taking, the while, excursions in every other direction so as, if possible, to blind any one who made a study of my movements. Then my journey to the cavern must be made by night, armed with spades, and taking with us a couple of mules to bring home the spoil.
So I mused, little recking of what was to come, till the great golden sun rose from his glorious bed, when, after lying down an hour for the sake of the rest, I rose and sought for Tom, to find him indulging in that bad habit of his, a morning pipe; when I told him my plans, and also asked him if he thought that we ought to take my uncle into our confidence.
“Not by no means, Mas’r Harry,” he said.