For a long time he lay there, gazing up at the stars, the warmth of the sand comforting his chilled body, luxuriating in the mere fact of living.
Then as he became quiet and the strength came back to him, the faint gray of dawn coloring the horizon in the east warned him that he must get back to the cave.
What had he been thinking of, wasting all this precious time when he should be back there warning his comrades, putting them on their guard!
As he scrambled to his feet, brushing the sand from him, he was conscious of a queer glow of exultation. The blood was pounding once more warmly through his veins. In spite of the tremendous odds against him he had come safely through that death-haunted lagoon. By means of strategy he had outwitted the monster fish, any one of which could have ended his life with one snap of his murderous jaws.
He had braved one of the worst dangers that can confront a man and now he was safe, free to warn his comrades of danger, free to ward off the attacks of Ramirez and his men, free to guard the treasure from all comers.
No wonder he was exultant. He raised his arms above his head and gazed up at the star-gemmed sky.
“The treasure is ours,” he cried aloud to the night. “I’d like to see anyone get it away from us.”
And with this challenge he turned and hurried toward the cave. By the time he reached it, it was almost morning.
As he stopped at the mouth of the cave it seemed impossible, after all that had happened to him, that the boys could still be sleeping soundly. While he had been making his tremendous discovery, been fighting his fight with death, they had slept on without ever a worry to disturb their dreams.
“They’re going to wake up now, just the same,” he muttered. “They’ve had all the sleep they’re going to have for one night.”