“Is it possible you have not heard of him?” Hardgrave asked. “He’s the richest, most unscrupulous man of our city. He bought you out.”
“Bought us out?”
“Hired your men to quit, and to attempt killing you, like as not. He’d do that.”
“But—but why?” Johnny licked his dry lips.
“He has his eye on that red lure of yours, has had for a long time. Strange you haven’t heard of him, haven’t seen his boats. But then, of course, they pass in the night. Black boats, they are. You don’t see much of them. You wouldn’t, I’d bet on that.”
Johnny wanted to ask about those boats, but he wanted still more to learn of Daego’s desire for his treasure.
“You see,” said Hardgrave, “Daego’s built up an immense fortune working the Rio Hondo territory. He’s worked all the land up to your tract. There he was obliged to stop. It was owned by a man who would not sell; at least not at his beggar’s price.
“As you know, British Honduras is one side of the Rio Hondo, and Quintanaroo, a state of Mexico, on the other. Daego went across the river and obtained concessions in Quintanaroo. He’s working there now. His camp can’t be a dozen miles from your own. I’m surprised that you haven’t seen his boats but of course you wouldn’t. They’re black, and mostly pass by night.”
The old man paused as if in thought. Then, of a sudden, he exclaimed:
“It’s Caribs you want!”