“Yes,” I said.
“Well, that’s all gone by the board now,” went on the young man. “We’re going to explore the Caverns of the Ataruipe.”
The “Caverns of the Ataruipe” meant precisely nothing to me.
“Listen to me,” he explained. “The Ataruipe are a lost race of people. Hardy picked up the dope during the time he hung around Rio; he says the archives of the Brazilian government are full of old maps purporting to give the location of treasure; some of these maps were made in the fifteenth century and actually purport to show where the ElDorado may be found.
“It is said that in earlier days expedition after expedition was fitted out and despatched to find the ‘Gilded King,’ a chap whose people had such quantities of gold that they built their houses of the solid metal. But the best story of all is that of the Caverns of the Ataruipe, a race that lived more than a thousand years ago, and came from Asia; they were wonderful goldsmiths, possessing untold quantities of gems and all the precious metals. The legend is that the Ataruipe used to come in large numbers down the rivers to the coast to trade, scattering among the natives quantities of gold pieces of exquisite design such as had never before been seen; but that after a certain date no one ever saw them again; nor has anyone ever been able to locate the particular part of the country where they resided.”
As the young man ran on a light began to dawn in my mind.
“And de Silva?” I interjected.
“Sure! You’ve struck it!” was Anderson’s swift response. “Hardy says the officials long have felt that the Ataruipe came from hereabouts, and Hardy claims the Spaniard, representing some of them, suspects our expedition of searching for the treasure.”
“Were the cuneiform inscriptions on the stone column examined?”
“Certainly,” said Anderson. “Hardy got all that. I never saw him so interested before. He swears we have struck it rich.”