"If he should truly come to believe," she said to herself, "that he had
no right to marry the captain and Edna, his conscience might make him
go back on the whole business, and everything that we have done would
be undone. I don't want him to remain a heathen any longer than it can
possibly be helped, but I must be careful not to set his priesthood
entirely aside until Edna's position is fixed and settled. When the
captain comes back, and we all get home, they must be married
regularly; but if he never comes back, then I must try to make
Cheditafa understand that the marriage is just as binding as any other
kind, and that any change of religious opinion that he may undergo will
have no effect upon it."

Accordingly, while she confined her religious teachings to very general
principles, her moral teachings were founded upon the strictest code, and
included cleanliness and all the household virtues, not excepting the
proper care of such garments as an indigent human being in a tropical
climate might happen to possess.

In spite, however, of this occupation, Mrs. Cliffs spirits were not
buoyant. "I believe," she thought, "things would have been more cheerful
if they had not married; but then, of course, we ought to be willing to
sacrifice cheerfulness at present to future prosperity."

It was more than a month after the departure of the captain that Ralph,
from his point of observation, perceived a sail upon the horizon. He had
seen sails there before, but they never grew any larger, and generally
soon disappeared, for it would lengthen the course of any
coasting-vessel to approach this shore. But the sail that Ralph saw now
grew larger and larger, and, with the aid of his little spy-glass, it
was not long before he made up his mind that it was coming toward him.
Then up went his signal-flag, and, with a loud hurrah, down went he to
shout out the glad news.

Twenty minutes later it was evident to the anxiously peering eyes of
every one of the party that the ship was actually approaching the shore,
and in the heart of each one of them there was a bounding delight in the
feeling that, after all these days of weary waiting, the captain was
coming back.

As the ship drew nearer and nearer, she showed herself to be a large
vessel--a handsome bark. About half a mile from the shore, she lay to,
and very soon a boat was lowered.

Edna's heart beat rapidly and her face flushed as, with Ralph's
spy-glass to her eyes, she scanned the people in the boat as it pulled
away from the ship.

"Can you make out the captain?" cried Ralph, at her side.

She shook her head, and handed him the glass. For full five minutes the
boy peered through it, and then he lowered the glass.

"Edna," said he, "he isn't in it."

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, "do you mean to say that the captain is not
in that boat?"

"I am sure of it," said Ralph. "And if he isn't in the boat, of course he
is not on the ship. Perhaps he did not have anything to do with that
vessel's coming here. It may have been tacking in this direction, and so
come near enough for people to see my signal."

"Don't suppose things," said Edna, a little sharply. "Wait until the boat
comes in, and then we will know all about it.--Here, Cheditafa," said
she, "you and Mok go out into the water and help run that boat ashore as
soon as it is near enough."

It was a large boat containing five men, and when it had been run up on
the sand, and its occupants had stepped out, the man at the tiller, who
proved to be the second mate of the bark, came forward and touched his
hat. As he did so, no sensible person could have imagined that he had
accidentally discovered them. His manner plainly showed that he had
expected to find them there. The conviction that this was so made the
blood run cold in Edna's veins. Why had not the captain come himself?

The man in command of the boat advanced toward the two ladies, looking
from one to the other as he did so. Then, taking a letter from the
pocket of his jacket, he presented it to Edna.

"Mrs. Horn, I believe," he said. "Here is a letter from your husband."

Now, it so happened that to Mrs. Cliff, to Edna, and to Ralph this
recognition of matrimonial status seemed to possess more force and value
than the marriage ceremony itself.

Edna's face grew as red as roses as she took the letter.

"From my husband," she said; and then, without further remark, she
stepped aside to read it.

But Mrs. Cliff and Ralph could not wait for the reading of the letter.
They closed upon the mate, and, each speaking at the same moment,
demanded of him what had happened to Captain Horn, why he had not come
himself, where he was now, was this ship to take them away, and a dozen
similar questions. The good mariner smiled at their impatience, but could
not wonder at it, and proceeded to tell them all he knew about Captain
Horn and his plans.

The captain, he said, had arrived at Callao some time since, and
immediately endeavored to get a vessel in which to go after the party
he had left, but was unable to do so. There was nothing in port which
answered his purpose. The captain seemed to be very particular about
the craft in which he would be willing to trust his wife and the rest
of the party.

"And after having seen Mrs. Horn," the mate politely added, "and you two,
I don't wonder he was particular. When Captain Horn found that the bark
out there, the Mary Bartlett, would sail in a week for Acapulco, Mexico,
he induced the agents of the company owning her to allow her to stop to
take off the shipwrecked party and carry them to that port, from which
they could easily get to the United States."

"But why, in the name of common sense," almost screamed Mrs. Cliff,
"didn't he come himself? Why should he stay behind, and send a ship to
take us off?"

"That, madam," said the mate, "I do not know. I have met Captain Horn
before, for he is well known on this coast, and I know he is a man who
understands how to attend to his own business, and, therefore, I suppose
he has good reasons for what he has done--which reasons, no doubt, he has
mentioned in his letter to his wife. All I can tell you is that, after he
had had a good deal of trouble with the agents, we were at last ordered
to touch here. He could not give us the exact latitude and longitude of
this spot, but as his boat kept on a straight westward course after he
left here, he got a good idea of the latitude from the Mexican brig which
he boarded three days afterwards. Then he gave us a plan of the coast,
which helped us very much, and soon after we got within sight of land,
our lookout spied that signal you put up. So here we are; and I have
orders to take you all off just as soon as possible, for we must not lie
here a minute longer than is necessary. I do not suppose that, under the
circumstances, you have much baggage to take away with you, and I shall
have to ask you to get ready to leave as soon as you can."

"All right," cried Ralph. "It won't take us long to get ready."

But Mrs. Cliff answered never a word. In fact, the injunction to
prepare to leave had fallen unheeded upon her ear. Her mind was
completely occupied entirely with one question: Why did not the captain
come himself?

She hastened to Edna, who had finished reading the letter, and now stood
silent, holding it in her hand.

"What does he say?" exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. "What are his reasons for
staying away? What does he tell you about his plans? Read us the letter.
You can leave out all the loving and confidential parts, but give us his
explanations. I never was so anxious to know anything in all my life."

"I will read you the whole of it," said Edna. "Here, Ralph."

Her brother came running up. "That man is in an awful hurry to get away,"
he said. "We ought to go up to the caves and get our things."

"Stay just where you are," said Mrs. Cliff. "Before we do anything
else, we must know what Captain Horn intends to do, and what he wants
us to do."

"That's so!" cried Ralph, suddenly remembering his guardianship. "We
ought to know what he says about leaving that mound. Read away, Edna."

The three stood at some little distance from the sailors, who were now
talking with Cheditafa, and Edna read the letter aloud:

"Lima, May 14, 1884.

"MY DEAR WIFE: I reached this city about ten days ago. When I left you
all I did not sail down the coast, but stood directly out to sea. My
object was to reach a shipping-port, and to do this my best plan was to
get into the track of coasting-vessels. This plan worked well, and in
three days we were picked up by a Mexican guano brig, and were taken to
Callao, which is the port of Lima. We all arrived in good health and
condition.

"This letter will be brought to you by the bark Mary Bartlett, which
vessel I have engaged to stop for you, and take you and the whole party
to Acapulco, which is the port of the City of Mexico, from which place I
advise you to go as soon as possible to San Francisco. I have paid the
passage of all of you to Acapulco, and I inclose a draft for one thousand
dollars for your expenses. I would advise you to go to the Palmetto
Hotel, which is a good family house, and I will write to you there and
send another draft. In fact, I expect you will find my letter when you
arrive, for the mail-steamer will probably reach San Francisco before you
do. Please write to me as soon as you get there, and address me here,
care of Nasco, Parmley & Co."

An exclamation of impatience here escaped from Mrs. Cliff. In her
opinion, the reasons for the non-appearance of the captain should, have
been the first thing in the letter.

"When I reached Lima, which is six miles from Callao," the letter
continued, "I disposed of some of the property I brought with me, and
expect to sell it all before long. Being known as a Californian, I find
no difficulty in disposing of my property, which is in demand here, and
in a very short time I shall have turned the whole of it into drafts or
cash. There is a vessel expected here shortly which I shall be able to
charter, and as soon as I can do so I shall sail in her to attend to the
disposition of the rest of my property. I shall write as frequently as
possible, and keep you informed of my operations.

"Of course, you understand that I could not go on the Mary Bartlett to
join you and accompany you to Acapulco, for that would have involved too
great a loss of time. My business must be attended to without delay, and
I can get the vessel I want here.

"The people of the _Mary Bartlett_ will not want to wait any longer than
can be helped, so you would all better get your baggage together as soon
as possible and go on board. The two negroes will bring down your
baggage, so there will be no need for any of the sailors to go up to the
caves. Tell Ralph not to forget the charge I gave him if they do go up.
When you have taken away your clothes, you can leave just as they are the
cooking-utensils, the blankets, and _everything else._ I will write to
you much more fully by mail. Cannot do so now. I hope you may all have a
quick and safe voyage, and that I may hear from you immediately after you
reach Acapulco. I hope most earnestly that you have all kept well, and
that no misfortune has happened to any of you. I shall wait with anxiety
your letter from Acapulco. Let Ralph write and make his report. I will
ask you to stay in San Francisco until more letters have passed and plans
are arranged. Until further notice, please give Mrs. Cliff one fourth of
all moneys I send. I cannot insist, of course, upon her staying in San
Francisco, but I would advise her to do so until things are more settled.

"In haste, your husband,

"Philip Horn."

"Upon my word!" ejaculated Mrs. Cliff, "a most remarkable letter! It
might have been written to a clerk! No one would suppose it the first
letter of a man to his bride! Excuse me, Edna, for speaking so plainly,
but I must say I am shocked. He is very particular to call you his wife
and say he is your husband, and in that way he makes the letter a
valuable piece of testimony if he never turns up, but--well, no matter."

"He is mighty careful," said Ralph, "not to say anything about the gold.
He speaks of his property as if it might be Panama stock or something
like that. He is awfully wary."

"You see," said Edna, speaking in a low voice, "this letter was sent by
private hands, and by people who were coming to the spot where his
property is, and, of course, it would not do to say anything that would
give any hint of the treasure here. When he writes by mail, he can speak
more plainly."

"I hope he may speak more plainly in another way," said Mrs. Cliff. "And
now let us go up and get our things together. I am a good deal more
amazed by the letter than I was by the ship."




CHAPTER XIX

LEFT BEHIND


"Ralph," said Edna, as they were hurrying up to the caves, "you must do
everything you can to keep those sailors from wandering into the lake
basin. They are very different from the negroes, and will want to explore
every part of it."

"Oh, I have thought of all that," said Ralph, "and I am now going to run
ahead and smash the lantern. They won't be so likely to go poking around
in the dark."

"But they may have candles or matches," said Edna. "We must try to keep
them out of the big cave."

Ralph did not stop to answer, but ran as fast as his legs would carry him
to the plateau. The rest of the party followed, Edna first, then the
negroes, and after them Mrs. Cliff, who could not imagine why Edna should
be in such a hurry. The sailors, having secured their boat, came
straggling after the rest.

When Edna reached the entrance to the caves, she was met by her brother,
so much out of breath that he could hardly speak.

"You needn't go to your room to get your things," he exclaimed. "I have
gathered them all up, your bag, too, and I have tumbled them over the
wall in the entrance back here. You must get over as quick as you can.
That will be your room now, and I will tell the sailors, if they go
poking around, that you are in there getting ready to leave, and then, of
course, they can't pass along the passage."

"That is a fine idea," said Edna, as she followed him. "You are getting
very sharp-witted, Ralph."

"Now, then," said he, as he helped her over the wall, "take just as long
as you can to get your things ready."

"It can't take me very long," said Edna. "I have no clothes to change,
and only a few things to put in my bag. I don't believe you have got them
all, anyway."

"But you must make it take a long time," said he. "You must not get
through until every sailor has gone. You and I must be the last ones to
leave the caves."

"All right," said Edna, as she disappeared behind the wall.

When Mrs. Cliff arrived, she was met by Ralph, who explained the state of
affairs, and although that lady was a good deal annoyed at the scattered
condition in which she found her effects, she accepted the situation.

The mate and his men were much interested in the caves and the great
stone face, and, as might have been expected, every one of them wanted to
know where the narrow passage led. But as Ralph was on hand to inform
them that it was the entrance to Mrs. Horn's apartment, they could do no
more than look along its dusky length, and perhaps wonder why Mrs. Horn
should have selected a cave which must be dark, when there were others
which were well lighted.

Mrs. Cliff was soon ready, and explained to the inquiring mate her
notion that these caves were used for religious purposes, and that
the stone face was an ancient idol. In fact, the good lady believed
this, but she did not state that she thought it likely that the
sculptured countenance was a sort of a cashier idol, whose duty it
was to protect treasure.

Edna, behind the stone barrier, had put her things in her bag, though she
was not sure she had found all of them in the gloom, and she waited a
long time, so it seemed to her, for Ralph's summons to come forth. But
although the boy came to the wall several times, ostensibly to ask if she
were not ready, yet he really told her to stay where she was, for the
sailors were not yet gone. But at last he came with the welcome news that
every one had departed, and they soon came out into the daylight.

"If anything is lost, charge it to me," said Ralph to Mrs. Cliff and his
sister, as they hurried away. "I can tell you, if I had not thought of
that way of keeping those sailors out of the passage, they would have
swarmed over that lake bed, each one of them with a box of matches in his
pocket; and if they had found that mound, I wouldn't give two cents for
the gold they would have left in it. It wouldn't have been of any use to
tell them it was the captain's property. They would have been there, and
he wasn't, and I expect the mate would have been as bad as any of them."

"You are a good fellow, Ralph," said Mrs. Cliff, "and I hope you will
grow up to be an administrator, or something of the kind. I don't
suppose there was ever another boy in the world who had so much wealth
in charge."

"You can't imagine," exclaimed Ralph, "how I hate to go away and leave
it! There is no knowing when the captain will get here, nor who will drop
in on the place before he does. I tell you, Edna, I believe it would be a
good plan for me to stay here with those two black fellows, and wait for
the captain. You two could go on the ship, and write to him. I am sure he
would be glad to know I am keeping guard here, and I don't know any
better fun than to be on hand when he unearths the treasure. There's no
knowing what is at the bottom of that mound."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Edna. "You can put that idea out of your head
instantly. I would not think of going away and leaving you here. If the
captain had wanted you to stay, he would have said so."

"If the captain wanted!" sarcastically exclaimed Ralph. "I am tired of
hearing what the captain wants. I hope the time will soon come when those
yellow bars of gold will be divided up, and then I can do what I like
without considering what he likes."

Mrs. Cliff could not help a sigh. "Dear me!" said she, "I do most
earnestly hope that time may come. But we are leaving it all behind us,
and whether we will ever hear of it again nobody knows."

One hour after this Edna and Mrs. Cliff were standing on the deck of the
Mary Bartlett, watching the plateau of the great stone face as it slowly
sank into the horizon.

"Edna," said the elder lady, "I have liked you ever since I have known
you, and I expect to like you as long as I live, but I must say that, for
an intelligent person, you have the most colorless character I have ever
seen. Whatever comes to pass, you receive it as quietly and calmly as if
it were just what you expected and what you happened to want, and yet, as
long as I have known you, you have not had anything you wanted."

"You are mistaken there," said Edna. "I have got something I want."

"And what may that be?" asked the other.

"Captain Horn," said Edna.

Mrs. Cliff laughed a little scornfully. "If you are ever going to get any
color out of your possession of him," she said, "he's got to very much
change the style of his letter-writing. He has given you his name and
some of his money, and may give you more, but I must say I am very much
disappointed in Captain Horn."

Edna turned suddenly upon her companion. "Color!" she exclaimed, but she
did not finish her remark, for Ralph came running aft.

"A queer thing has happened," said he: "a sailor is missing, and he is
one of the men who went on shore for us. They don't know what's become of
him, for the mate is sure he brought all his men back with him, and so am
I, for I counted them to see that there were no stragglers left, and all
the people who were in that boat came on board. They think he may have
fallen overboard after the ship sailed, but nobody heard a splash."

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, "and he was one of those who came
to save us!"

At this moment a wet and bedraggled sailor, almost exhausted with a swim
of nearly a mile, staggered upon the beach, and fell down upon the sand
near the spot from which the Mary Bartlett's boat had recently been
pushed off. When, an hour before, he had slipped down the side of the
ship, he had swum under water as long as his breath held out, and had
dived again as soon as he had filled his lungs. Then he had floated on
his back, paddling along with little but his face above the surface of
the waves, until he had thought it safe to turn over and strike out for
land. It had been a long pull, and the surf had treated him badly, but he
was safe on shore at last, and in a few minutes he was sound asleep,
stretched upon the sand.

Toward the end of the afternoon he awoke and rose to his feet. The warm
sand, the desiccating air, and the sun had dried his clothes, and his nap
had refreshed him. He was a sharp-faced, quick-eyed man, a Scotchman, and
the first thing he did was to shade his face with his hands and look out
over the sea. Then he turned, with a shrug of his shoulders and a grunt.

"She's gone," said he, "and I will be up to them caves." After a dozen
steps he gave another shrug. "Humph!" said he, "those fools! Do they
think everybody is blind? They left victuals, they left cooking-things.
Blasted careful they were to leave matches and candles in a tin box. I
watched them. If everybody else was blind, I kenned they expected
somebody was comin' back. That captain, that blasted captain, I'll wager!
Wi' sae much business on his hands, he couldna sail wi' us to show us
where his wife was stranded!"

For fifty yards more he plodded along, looking from side to side at the
rocks and sand.

"A dreary place and lonely," thought he, "and I can peer out things at me
ease. I'll find out what's at the end o' that dark alley. They were so
fearsome that we'd go into her room. Her room, indeed! When the other
woman had a big lighted cave! They expected somebody to come back, did
they? Well, blast their eyes, he's here!"




CHAPTER XX

AT THE RACKBIRDS' COVE


It was about six weeks after the _Mary Bartlett_ had sailed away from
that desolate spot on the coast of Peru from which she had taken the
shipwrecked party, that the great stone face might have seen, if its
wide-open eyes had been capable of vision, a small schooner beating in
toward shore. This vessel, which was manned by a Chilian captain, a
mate, and four men, and was a somewhat dirty and altogether disagreeable
craft, carried Captain Horn, his four negroes, and three hundred and
thirty bags of guano.

In good truth the captain was coming back to get the gold, or as much of
it as he could take away with him. But his apparent purpose was to
establish on this desert coast a depot for which he would have nothing to
pay for rent and storage, and where he would be able to deposit, from
time to time, such guano as he had been able to purchase at a bargain at
two of the guano islands, until he should have enough to make it worth
while for a large vessel, trading with the United States or Mexico, to
touch here and take on board his accumulated stock of odorous
merchandise.

It would be difficult--in fact, almost impossible--to land a cargo at
the point near the caves where the captain and his party first ran their
boats ashore, nor did the captain in the least desire to establish his
depot at a point so dangerously near the golden object of his
undertaking. But the little bay which had been the harbor of the
Rackbirds exactly suited his purpose, and here it was that he intended to
land his bags of guano. He had brought with him on the vessel suitable
timber with which to build a small pier, and he carried also a lighter,
or a big scow, in which the cargo would be conveyed from the anchored
schooner to the pier.

It seemed quite evident that the captain intended to establish himself in
a somewhat permanent manner as a trader in guano. He had a small tent and
a good stock of provisions, and, from the way he went to work and set his
men to work, it was easy to see that he had thoroughly planned and
arranged all the details of his enterprise.

It was nearly dark when the schooner dropped her anchor, and early the
next morning all available hands were set to work to build the pier, and,
when it was finished, the landing of the cargo was immediately begun.
Some of the sailors wandered about a little, when they had odd moments to
spare, but they had seen such dreary coasts before, and would rather rest
than ramble. But wherever they did happen to go, not one of them ever got
away from the eye of Captain Horn.

The negroes evinced no desire to visit the cave, and Maka had been
ordered by the captain to say nothing about it to the sailors. There was
no difficulty in obeying this order, for these rough fellows, as much
landsmen as mariners, had a great contempt for the black men, and had
little to do with them. As Captain Horn informed Maka, he had heard from
his friends, who had arrived in safety at Acapulco; therefore there was
no need for wasting time in visiting their old habitation.

In that dry and rainless region a roof to cover the captain's stock in
trade was not necessary, and the bags were placed upon a level spot on
the sands, in long double rows, each bag on end, gently leaning
against its opposite neighbor, and between the double rows there was
room to walk.

The Chilian captain was greatly pleased with this arrangement. "I see
well," said he, in bad Spanish, "that this business is not new to you. A
ship's crew can land and carry away these bags without tumbling over each
other. It is a grand thing to have a storehouse with a floor as wide as
many acres."

A portion of the bags, however, were arranged in a different manner. They
were placed in a circle two bags deep, inclosing a space about ten feet
in diameter. This, Captain Horn explained, he intended as a sort of
little fort, in which the man left in charge could defend himself and the
property, in case marauders should land upon the coast.

"You don't intend," exclaimed the Chilian captain, "that you will leave a
guard here! Nobody would have cause to come near the spot from either
land or sea, and you might well leave your guano here for a year or more,
and come back and find it."

"No," said Captain Horn, "I can't trust to that. A coasting-vessel might
put in here for water. Some of them may know that there is a stream
here, and with this convenient pier, and a cargo ready to their hands, my
guano would be in danger. No, sir. I intend to send you off to-morrow, if
the wind is favorable, for the second cargo for which we have contracted,
and I shall stay here and guard my warehouse."

"What!" exclaimed the Chilian, "alone?"

"Why not?" said Captain Horn. "Our force is small, and we can only spare
one man. In loading the schooner on this trip, I would be the least
useful man on board, and, besides, do you think there is any one among
you who would volunteer to stay here instead of me?"

The Chilian laughed and shook his head. "But what can one man do," said
he, "to defend all this, if there should be need?"

"Oh, I don't intend to defend it," said the other. "The point is to have
somebody here to claim it in case a coaster should touch here. I don't
expect to be murdered for the sake of a lot of guano. But I shall keep my
two rifles and other arms inside that little fort, and if I should see
any signs of rascality I shall jump inside and talk over the guano-bags,
and I am a good shot."

The Chilian shrugged his shoulders. "If I stayed here alone," said he, "I
should be afraid of nothing but the devil, and I am sure he would come to
me, with all his angels. But you are different from me."

"Yes," said Captain Horn, "I don't mind the devil. I have often camped
out by myself, and I have not seen him yet."

When Maka heard that the captain intended staying alone, he was greatly
disturbed. If the captain had not built the little fort with the
guano-bags, he would have begged to be allowed to remain with him, but
those defensive works had greatly alarmed him, for they made him believe
that the captain feared that some of the Rackbirds might come back. He
had had a great deal of talk with the other negroes about those bandits,
and he was fully impressed with their capacity for atrocity. It grieved
his soul to think that the captain would stay here alone, but the captain
was a man who could defend himself against half a dozen Rackbirds, while
he knew very well that he would not be a match for half a one. With tears
in his eyes, he begged Captain Horn not to stay, for Rackbirds would not
steal guano, even if any of them should return.

But his entreaties were of no avail. Captain Horn explained the matter to
him, and tried to make him understand that it was as a claimant, more
than as a defender of his property, that he remained, and that there was
not the smallest reason to suspect any Rackbirds or other source of
danger. The negro saw that the captain had made up his mind, and
mournfully joined his fellows. In half an hour, however, he came back to
the captain and offered to stay with him until the schooner should
return. If Captain Horn had known the terrible mental struggle which had
preceded this offer, he would have been more grateful to Maka than he had
ever yet been to any human being, but he did not know it, and declined
the proposition pleasantly but firmly.

"You are wanted on the schooner," said he, "for none of the rest can
cook, and you are not wanted here, so you must go with the others; and
when you come back with the second load of guano, it will not be long
before the ship which I have engaged to take away the guano will touch
here, and then we will all go north together."

Maka smiled, and tried to be satisfied. He and the other negroes had been
greatly grieved that the captain had not seen fit to go north from
Callao, and take them with him. Their one desire was to get away from
this region, so full of horrors to them, as soon as possible. But they
had come to the conclusion that, as the captain had lost his ship, he
must be poor, and that it was necessary for him to make a little money
before he returned to the land of his home.

Fortune was on the captain's side the next day, for the wind was
favorable, and the captain of the schooner was very willing to start. If
that crew, with nothing to do, had been compelled by adverse weather to
remain in that little cove for a day or more, it might have been very
difficult indeed for Captain Horn to prevent them from wandering into the
surrounding country, and what might have happened had they chanced to
wander into the cave made the captain shudder to conjecture.

He had carefully considered this danger, and on the voyage he had made
several plans by which he could keep the men at work, in case they were
obliged to remain in the cove after the cargo had been landed. Happily,
however, none of these schemes was necessary, and the next day, with a
western wind, and at the beginning of the ebb-tide, the schooner sailed
away for another island where Captain Horn had purchased guano, leaving
him alone upon the sandy beach, apparently as calm and cool as usual, but
actually filled with turbulent delight at seeing them depart.




CHAPTER XXI

IN THE GATES


When the topmasts of the Chilian schooner had disappeared below the
horizon line, with no reason to suppose that the schooner would put back
again, Captain Horn started for the caves. Had he obeyed his instincts,
he would have begun to stroll along the beach as soon as the vessel had
weighed anchor. But even now, as he hurried on, he walked prudently,
keeping close to the water, so that the surf might wash out his footsteps
as fast as he made them. He climbed over the two ridges to the north of
Rackbirds' Cove, and then made his way along the stretch of sand which
extended to the spot where the party had landed when he first reached
this coast. He stopped and looked about him, and then, in fancy, he saw
Edna standing upon the beach, her face pale, her eyes large and
supernaturally dark, and behind her Mrs. Cliff and the boy and the two
negroes. Not until this moment had he felt that he was alone. But now
there came a great desire to speak and be spoken to, and yet that very
morning he had spoken and listened as much as had suited him.

As he walked up the rising ground toward the caves, that ground he had
traversed so often when this place had been, to all intents and purposes,
his home, where there had been voices and movement and life, the sense of
desertion grew upon him--not only desertion of the place, but of himself.
When he had opened his eyes, that morning, his overpowering desire had
been that not an hour of daylight should pass before he should be left
alone, and yet now his heart sank at the feeling that he was here and no
one was with him.

When the captain had approached within a few yards of the great stone
face, his brows were slowly knitted.

"This is carelessness," he said to himself. "I did not expect it of
them. I told them to leave the utensils, but I did not suppose that
they would leave them outside. No matter how much they were hurried in
going away, they should have put these things into the caves. A passing
Indian might have been afraid to go into that dark hole, but to leave
those tin things there is the same as hanging out a sign to show that
people lived inside."

Instantly the captain gathered up the tin pan and tin plates, and looked
about him to see if there was anything else which should be put out of
sight. He did find something else. It was a little, short, black, wooden
pipe which was lying on a stone. He picked it up in surprise. Neither
Maka nor Cheditafa smoked, and it could not have belonged to the boy.

"Perhaps," thought the captain, "one of the sailors from the _Mary
Bartlett_ may have left it. Yes, that must have been the case. But
sailors do not often leave their pipes behind them, nor should the
officer in charge have allowed them to lounge about and smoke. But it
must have been one of those sailors who left it here. I am glad I am the
one to find these things."

The captain now entered the opening to the caves. Passing along until he
reached the room which he had once occupied, there he saw his rough
pallet on the ground, drawn close to the door, however.

The captain knew that the rest of his party had gone away in a great
hurry, but to his orderly mariner's mind it seemed strange that they
should have left things in such disorder.

He could not stop to consider these trifles now, however, and going to
the end of the passage, he climbed over the low wall and entered the cave
of the lake. When he lighted the lantern he had brought with him, he saw
it as he had left it, dry, or even drier than before, for the few pools
which had remained after the main body of water had run off had
disappeared, probably evaporated. He hurried on toward the mound in the
distant recess of the cave. On the way, his foot struck something which
rattled, and holding down his lantern to see what it was, he perceived an
old tin cup.

"Confound it!" he exclaimed. "This is too careless! Did the boy intend to
make a regular trail from the outside entrance to the mound? I suppose he
brought that cup here to dip up water, and forgot it. I must take it with
me when I go back."

He went on, throwing the light of the lantern on the ground before him,
for he had now reached a part of the cave which was entirely dark.
Suddenly something on the ground attracted his attention. It was
bright--it shone as if it were a little pale flame of a candle. He
sprang toward it, he picked it up. It was one of the bars of gold he had
seen in the mound.

"Could I have dropped this?" he ejaculated. He slipped the little bar
into his pocket, and then, his heart beginning to beat rapidly, he
advanced, with his lantern close to the rocky floor. Presently he saw two
other pieces of gold, and then, a little farther on, the end of a candle,
so small that it could scarcely have been held by the fingers. He picked
up this and stared at it. It was a commonplace candle-end, but the sight
of it sent a chill through him from head to foot. It must have been
dropped by some one who could hold it no longer.

He pressed on, his light still sweeping the floor. He found no more gold
nor pieces of candle, but here and there he perceived the ends of burnt
wooden matches. Going on, he found more matches, two or three with the
heads broken off and unburnt. In a few moments the mound loomed up out of
the darkness like a spectral dome, and, looking no more upon the ground,
the captain ran toward it. By means of the stony projections he quickly
mounted to the top, and there the sight he saw almost made him drop his
lantern. The great lid of the mound had been moved and was now awry,
leaving about one half of the opening exposed.

In one great gasp the captain's breath seemed to leave him, but he was a
man of strong nerves, and quickly recovered himself; but even then he did
not lift his lantern so that he could look into the interior of the
mound. For a few moments he shut his eyes. He did not dare even to look.
But then his courage came back, and holding his lantern over the opening,
he gazed down into the mound, and it seemed to his rapid glance that
there was as much gold in it as when he last saw it.

The discovery that the treasure was still there had almost as much effect
upon the captain as if he had found the mound empty. He grew so faint
that he felt he could not maintain his hold upon the top of the mound,
and quickly descended, half sliding, to the bottom. There he sat down,
his lantern by his side. When his strength came back to him,--and he
could not have told any one how long it was before this happened,--the
first thing he did was to feel for his box of matches, and finding them
safe in his waistcoat pocket, he extinguished the lantern. He must not be
discovered, if there should be any one to discover him.

Now the captain began to think as fiercely and rapidly as a man's mind
could be made to work. Some one had been there. Some one had taken away
gold from that mound--how much or how little, it did not matter. Some one
besides himself had had access to the treasure!

His suspicions fell upon Ralph, chiefly because his most earnest desire
at that moment was that Ralph might be the offender. If he could have
believed that he would have been happy. It must have been that the boy
was not willing to go away and leave all that gold, feeling that perhaps
he and his sister might never possess any of it, and that just before
leaving he had made a hurried visit to the mound. But the more the
captain thought of this, the less probable it became. He was almost sure
that Ralph could not have lifted that great mass of stone which formed
the lid covering the opening of the mound, for it had required all his
own strength to do it; and then, if anything of this sort had really
happened, the letters he had received from Edna and the boy must have
been most carefully written with the intention to deceive him.

[Illustration: Holding his lantern over the opening he gazed down into
the mound.]

The letter from Edna, which in tone and style was a close imitation of
his own to her, had been a strictly business communication. It told
everything which happened after the arrival of the Mary Bartlett, and
gave him no reason to suppose that any one could have had a chance to
pillage the mound. Ralph's letter had been even more definite. It was
constructed like an official report, and when the captain had read it, he
had thought that the boy had probably taken great pride in its
preparation. It was as guardian of the treasure mound that Ralph wrote,
and his remarks were almost entirely confined to this important trust.

He briefly reported to the captain that, since his departure, no one had
been in the recess of the cave where the mound was situated, and he
described in detail the plan by which he had established Edna behind the
wall in the passage, so as to prevent any of the sailors from the ship
from making explorations. He also stated that everything had been left in
as high a condition of safety as it was possible to leave it, but that,
if his sister had been willing, he would most certainly have remained
behind, with the two negroes, until the captain's return.

Much as he wished to think otherwise, Captain Horn could not prevail upon
himself to believe that Ralph could have written such a letter after a
dishonorable and reckless visit to the mound.

It was possible that one or both of the negroes had discovered the
mound, but it was difficult to believe that they would have dared to
venture into that awful cavern, even if the vigilance of Edna, Mrs.
Cliff, and the boy had given them an opportunity, and Edna had written
that the two men had always slept outside the caves, and had had no call
to enter them. Furthermore, if Cheditafa had found the treasure, why
should he keep it a secret? He would most probably have considered it an
original discovery, and would have spoken of it to the others. Why
should he be willing that they should all go away and leave so much
wealth behind them? The chief danger, in case Cheditafa had found the
treasure, was that he would talk about it in Mexico or the United
States. But, in spite of the hazards to which such disclosures might
expose his fortunes, the captain would have preferred that the black men
should have been pilferers than that other men should have been
discoverers. But who else could have discovered it? Who could have been
there? Who could have gone away?

There was but one reasonable supposition, and that was that one or more
of the Rackbirds, who had been away from their camp at the time when
their fellow-miscreants were swept away by the flood, had come back, and
in searching for their comrades, or some traces of them, had made their
way to the caves. It was quite possible, and further it was quite
probable, that the man or men who had found that mound might still be
here or in the neighborhood. As soon as this idea came into the mind of
the captain, he prepared for action. This was a question which must be
resolved if he could do it, and without loss of time. Lighting his
lantern,--for in that black darkness it was impossible for him to find
his way without it, although it might make him a mark for some concealed
foe,--the captain quickly made his way out of the lake cavern, and,
leaving his lantern near the little wall, he proceeded, with a loaded
pistol in his hand, to make an examination of the caves which he and his
party had occupied.

He had already looked into the first compartment, but stopping at the
pallet which lay almost at the passage of the doorway, he stood and
regarded it. Then he stepped over it, and looked around the little
room. The pallet of blankets and rugs which Ralph had used was not
there. Then the captain stepped into the next room, and, to his
surprise, he found this as bare of everything as if it had never been
used as a sleeping-apartment. He now hurried back to the first room,
and examined the pallet, which, when he had first been looking at it,
he had thought to be somewhat different from what it had been when he
had used it. He now found that it was composed of all the rugs and
blankets which had previously made up the beds of all the party. The
captain ground his teeth.

"There can be no doubt of it," he said. "Some one has been here since
they left, and has slept in these caves."

At this moment he remembered the innermost cave, the large compartment
which was roofless, and which, in his excitement, he had forgotten.
Perhaps the man who slept on the pallet was in there at this minute. How
reckless he had been! To what danger he had exposed himself! With his
pistol cocked, the captain advanced cautiously toward the innermost
compartment. Putting his head in at the doorway, he glanced up, down, and
around. He called out, "Who's here?" and then he entered, and looked
around, and behind each of the massive pieces of rock with which the
floor was strewn. No one answered, and he saw no one. But he saw
something which made him stare.

On the ground, at one side of the entrance to this compartment, were five
or six pieces of rock about a foot high, placed in a small circle so that
their tops came near enough together to support a tin kettle which was
resting upon them. Under the kettle, in the centre of the rocks, was a
pile of burnt leaves and sticks.

"Here he has cooked his meals," said the captain--for the pallet made up
of all the others had convinced him that it had been one man who had been
here after his party had left. "He stayed long enough to cook his meals
and sleep," thought the captain. "I'll look into this provision
business." Passing through the other rooms, he went to a deep niche in
the wall of the entrance passage where his party had kept their stores,
and where Edna had written him they had left provisions enough for the
immediate use of himself and the men who should return. Here he found tin
cans tumbled about at the bottom of the niche, and every one of them
absolutely empty. On a little ledge stood a tin box in which they had
kept the matches and candles. The box was open, but there was nothing in
it. On the floor near by was a tin biscuit-box, crushed nearly flat, as
if some one had stamped upon it.

"He has eaten everything that was left," said the captain, "and he has
been starved out. Very likely, too, he got out of water, for, of
course, those pools would dry up, and it is not likely he found the
stream outside."

Now the captain let down the hammer of his revolver, and put it in his
belt. He felt sure that the man was not here. Being out of provisions, he
had to go away, but where he had gone to was useless to conjecture. Of
another thing the captain was now convinced: the intruder had not been a
Rackbird, for, while waiting for the disappearance of the Chilian
schooner, he had gone over to the concealed storehouse of the bandits,
and had found it just as he had left it on his last visit, with a
considerable quantity of stores remaining in it. If the man had known of
the Rackbirds' camp and this storehouse, it would not have been necessary
for him to consume every crumb and vestige of food which had been left in
these caves.

"No," said the captain, "it could not have been a Rackbird, but who he
was, and where he has gone, is beyond my comprehension."




CHAPTER XXII

A PACK-MULE


When Captain Horn felt quite sure that it was not Ralph, that it was not
Cheditafa, that it was not a Rackbird, who had visited the treasure
mound, he stood and reflected. What had happened was a great
misfortune,--possibly it was a great danger,--but it was no use standing
there thinking about it. His reason could not help him; it had done for
him all that it could, and it would be foolish to waste time in looking
for the man, for it was plain enough that he had gone away. Of course, he
had taken some gold with him, but that did not matter much. The danger
was that he or others might come back for more, but this could not be
prevented, and it was needless to consider it. The captain had come to
this deserted shore for a purpose, and it was his duty, without loss of
time, to go to work and carry out that purpose. If in any way he should
be interfered with, he would meet that interference as well as he could,
but until it came he would go on with his work. Having come to this
conclusion, he got over the wall, lighted his lantern, and proceeded to
the mound.

On his way he passed the tin cup, which he had forgotten to pick up, but
now he merely kicked it out of the way. "If the man comes back," he
thought, "he knows the way. There is no need of concealing anything."

When the captain had reached the top of the mound, he moved the stone lid
so that the aperture was entirely uncovered. Then he looked down upon the
mass of dull yellow bars. He could not perceive any apparent diminution
of their numbers.

"He must have filled his pockets," the captain thought, "and so full that
some of them dropped out. Well, let him go, and if he ventures back here,
we shall have it out between us. In the meantime, I will do what I can."

The captain now took from the pocket of his jacket two small canvas bags,
which he had had made for this purpose, and proceeded to fill one of them
with the gold bars, lifting the bag, every now and then, to try its
weight. When he thought it heavy enough, he tied up the end very firmly,
and then packed the other, as nearly as possible, to the same extent.
Then he got down, and laying one of the bags over each shoulder, he
walked about to see if he could easily bear their weight.

"That is about right," he said to himself. "I will count them when I take
them out." Then, putting them down, he went up for his lantern. He was
about to close the lid of the mound, but he reflected that this would be
of no use. It had been open nobody knew how long, and might as well
remain so. He was coming back as often as he could, and it would be a tax
upon his strength to lift that heavy lid every time. So he left the
treasures of the Incas open to the air under the black roof of the
cavern, and, with his lantern in his hand and a bag of gold on each
shoulder, he left the cave of the lake, and then, concealing his lantern,
he walked down to the sea.

Before he reached it he had thoroughly scanned the ocean, but not a sign
of a ship could be seen. Walking along the sands, and keeping, as
before, close to the curving line of water thrown up by the surf, he
said to himself:

"I must have my eyes and ears open, but I am not going to be nervous or
fidgety. I came here to be a pack-mule, and I intend to be a pack-mule
until something stops me, and if that something is one man, he can look
out for himself."

The bags were heavy and their contents were rough and galling to the
shoulders, but the captain was strong and his muscles were tough, and as
he walked he planned a pair of cushions which he would wear under his
golden epaulets in his future marches.