“Señor Bazán will not agree to that,” said Cary, rather curtly. “He prefers to go it alone.”
“Ah, old Ramon has a long memory and a short temper,” chuckled Don Miguel O’Donnell. “I was a young man then, when he had an ambition to be the president of Colombia. To some extent I helped his enemies. It hurt him to spend money. He might have had my support, but no matter—I know your Ramon Bazán, as it happens. If he comes to Cocos Island he bets on a sure thing. But you will find it enormous labor, so much rock and gravel have tumbled from the hill since the pirates buried the treasure of Lima. My bargain is a good one, Captain Cary. I beg you to consider it.”
“Señor Bazán wouldn’t trust you, sir,” frankly declared Cary. “His dislikes are very violent.”
“Is it necessary to obey his orders?” suavely returned Don Miguel O’Donnell. “Why not arrange this business without him? I include your chief engineer, Mr. Burnham. He will be most useful. To let a greedy old man expect most of this treasure for himself, to let him stand in the way of a partnership with me, is absurd, Captain Cary. Your Colombian sailors will soon be tired of digging in this gravel. Even a man like you will fail unless you let me help you. You see my equipment. Think of the money it has cost me.”
“Do you intend to take it with you?” asked Charlie Burnham.
“A bright young man,” smiled Don Miguel. “You can use it for yourself? Wait a minute. What do you say, Captain Cary?”
“My owner will have no dealings with you, and that goes for his officers,” was the brusque response. “I should say that he has you sized up about right. You ask me to be disloyal to him, do you, to make a private dicker and throw him over? Then how do I know you would be on the level with me? Nothing doing. We play our own game and I warn you to keep clear of it.”
“Most big, strong men are stupid,” amiably observed Don Miguel. “You have no objections if I stay and guard my property?”
“Not as long as you leave ours alone,” declared Cary.
His voice had a deeper note. The blue eye had a frosty glint. Charlie Burnham nudged him. It was time for them to put their heads together. They bade Don Miguel O’Donnell good-day. He was affable, polite, and apparently entertained by the crassness of youth. Until the arrival of these ingenuous Americans, one could see that he had been bored to extinction.