“But the treasure—” gasped Cliff, who had come to himself somewhat, with a good sized bruise on his temple. “It will all be melted.”
“Let it melt!” cried Nicky. “As long as you and Tom are safe!”
And, with no further word than a tight grip of Cliff’s hand, Nicky watched wordlessly the blazing pyre of all their seeking.
“The gold won’t burn,” Lieutenant Sommerlee consoled the boys.
“And there is more in the coral ‘safe,’” said Mr. Neale.
They laid off all that day, watched the embers sink down to the water’s edge, saw the last spark die, and then plumbed the wreckage for the treasure, hoping that in a state of molten yellow blocks it would be brought up. But no golden bars were there, nor could a single glint of melted metal be discovered, though Sam, Jim and Brownie dived with a will and almost tore the charred insides out of the Libertad.
“Where can it be?” mused Mr. Neale.
They questioned their captives, but all were silent. With a fierce grimace of hate Don Ortiga told them they would never find it.
But Nicky held on firmly to hope!