The Treasure of the Boiling Lake
It must be owned that Jack’s heart beat rather rapidly as he rode down into the little valley, hemmed in on all sides by the high walls of the Andes mountains.
He remembered well what the paper had said concerning the treasure, yet he did his best to steel himself against possible disappointment.
Plum Deemed to read his thoughts, for as he rode up he said:
“Jack, thet treasure might have been here years ago, but don’t be disapp’inted if it’s gone now. Them waters may have washed it away.”
“I am willing to take what comes, Plum,” was the answer. “But I want to know the exact truth--I hate to be kept in suspense.”
“Well, we’ll know afore long, I calkerlate,” returned the Yankee lad.
They had to pick their way with care to the “island,” as Jack insisted upon calling it. The bed of the valley was filled with holes and cuts, all of unknown depth. Here and there the flat rocks were split in twain in the most extraordinary fashion.
“There has been some great convulsion of nature here,” said Jack. “Maybe the earthquakes have something to do with the disappearance of the water.”
“If the water was here--an’ I believe what you say--it must have gone down in ’em holes and cuts,” said Plum. “But what made it spout up ag’in?”