“Disputed, Uncle?” I said interrupting him. “Disputed if it were known. You know it.”
“Does any one else?” said my uncle anxiously.
“Tom was with me. We found it together,” I said, “and he helped me to conceal it again. But I could trust him with my life. In fact, Uncle,” I said laughing, “we owe one another half-a-dozen lives over our discovery, for either I was saving his life or he was saving mine all the time.”
“But the Indians, Harry—the Indians! That is a sacred treasure—the treasure devoted to their gods, hence its remaining so long untouched. If they knew that you had taken it, no part of South America would hold you free from their vengeance. They would have your life, sooner or later.”
“Pleasant place this, certainly, Uncle,” I said laughing; “what with Garcia and the Indians.”
“I don’t think it could become known from those ingots,” said my uncle musingly, “though Garcia will rack his brains to find out how you became possessed of them. And yet I don’t know; you see they have two or three characters stamped on them that the Indians might know. But were you seen?”
“Coming from the place, Uncle? Yes, I suppose I must have been watched constantly. But all the same, I have the treasure hidden away; and as to the risk from the Indians, I don’t feel much alarmed; and you may depend upon it that they are in the most profound—What’s that?”
My uncle uttered an ejaculation at the same moment, for as I spoke, rapid as the dart of a serpent, a dark shadowy arm was passed under the blind close to the little table where we sat, and on looking there were but fifteen of the little ingots left.
“Stop here! I’ll go,” I exclaimed.
In an instant I had torn aside the blind, pushed open the jalousie, and leaped out into the outer sunshine, to stand in the glare, looking this way and that way, but in vain: there were flowers, and trees, and the bright glare, but not a soul in sight.