“Why shall I tell that when you can take me to the gold?”
“We are not here for gold,” Cliff said evenly. “We told you about my father.”
“Then there is that gold for me alone!” smiled Pizarra.
“Do you think we would help you steal it?” asked Cliff very quietly. “If you do, you are wrong. We won’t even take away any to pay back Mr. Whitley, because my father’s books will make enough to do that. We came here intending to take enough gold away for expenses, but that was before we knew that my father was alive and able to go with us.”
“If you go—” said Pizarra, softly, his eyes flashing.
“Do you mean to threaten that you will endanger the life of the man we came here to rescue?” asked Mr. Whitley coldly. “And put these young men in danger?”
“Oh, no,” Sancho Pizzara assured him with a shrug. “I am very kind man. Senor el Venus, here, he will guide me safe to the gold. I shall then not put danger to any.”
“And—if we refuse?” asked Bill. “Then—will you?”
“Then perhaps I find the white hombres hiding under red dye.”
“And of course we would sit right still and let him,” Nicky could not control his anger. “We wouldn’t say he was a disguised Spaniard trying to steal their treasure—” He stopped Cliff had nudged him sharply. But his statement daunted Pizarra. He turned thoughtful. Then he smiled. “There is for you too much danger,” he declared. “You will not dare!”