Hugging the treasure, he made his way into the chamber of the underground lake. Many and strange were the sensations that passed over him. At times he seemed to hear the cry of terror that escaped the giant Carib’s lips as his mind became possessed with fear for the earth god of the Mayas. Unconsciously he found himself looking back, as if expecting to be followed and overtaken by some unseen force that would wrest the treasure from him. Such was the spell of the Maya cave.
At times he fancied that the earth beneath his feet was beginning to tremble and shudder as once it had. He redoubled his speed. But in the end, he knew that this was pure fancy. The water that glimmered at his side was as still as a forest pool at midnight.
He fell to wondering about the canoe that had stood so long by the water’s brink. “Who can have been here? Who could have taken it?” he asked himself.
As he asked himself this question, his foot struck some object that, in the silence of the cave, gave off a dry and hollow sound. Leaping back, he threw his flashlight upon the spot.
“A paddle,” he murmured, “from the ancient boat.”
“Strange they didn’t take that with them,” he thought after a moment spent in examining it. “Oh well, since they did not, I will. It is elaborately carved and mounted with metal. Looks like gold. A splendid keepsake.”
Having picked up the paddle, he threw the light of his torch about him in every direction. Off to the right, further up from the beach, some other object cast dark shadows on the sand. An exclamation escaped his lips as he came close to it.
“A broken bit of a canoe!” he whispered.
Then like a flash it all came to him. “No one has been here,” he told himself. “The canoe has not been carried away. It was wrecked by the great wave caused by the earthquake.”
For a moment he stood gazing upon the bit of ancient wreckage. Then, suddenly realizing that it was growing late, that it was already dark outside the cave, he hurried on.