The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 181: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

on SN eee eters ee eng * . SAILING WITH It was then that trouble began in- deed for Pedro. Twice he refused to lead the column, but the men were in no mood to be trifled with, and the man was unmercifully lashed with a great knotted colt—a rope’s end—frayed and water-soaked. ° I tried to intercede, but it was of no use, and, realizing at last that the man was only crazy where money was con- cerned, it finally dawned upon me that during his absence from the town it was not unlikely that he had stumbled tipon some rich treasure-trove of gold or jewels which he had carried off here and hidden, meaning to return and se- cure it for himself after our departure. Each time [ tried to intercede for him [ was repulsed with curses and revilings, for the men were in a dan- gerous mood, and I found that by per- sisting I not only made it more diffi- cult for him but I also drew suspicion to myself. Finally he would go no farther, but sat down upon a great root and sullenly refused to move. [na trice two of the men had seized him by the elbows and held him as in a vise, while a third man knotted a cord about his temples, and, thrusting a pistol-barrel through the slack of the cord, began to twist. Sickened, I turned away. I had seen the same sort of thing happen. before, and I well knew what the result would be. This time the matter took less time than it generally did, for in a moment I heard a low groan, followed by: “Slacken it a bit, men! Now, hombre! Will you show us now, or do you want another taste?” There was a muttered assent, and, tied by the arm to a burly buccaneer, the guide, with blood flowing down upon his face and breast, again led off through the forest. | For two hours we plodded along, stumbling over great roots, beset by swarms of venomous flies, sweating, tired, and hungry, until finally we de- bouched upon a small clearing in the center of which, beneath a giant mango- tree, stood a small shelter of the “‘ lean- - na a ea ee ek ee ee ae let) ee Been ks a MORGAN. 883 to” type—simply a few boughs bent over with their ends thrust into the ground, and upon them the dry grass was piled deep. Why any person should have chosen this place in which to spend the night was a problem to me, for in that forest the rays of the sun never penetrated save at high noon. ‘The men hailed the sight with shouts of satisfaction and scrambled forward for a nearer view of it. Jenkins halted the party and moved forward slowly into the clearing, fear- ing an ambush. Far over beyond the mango-tree a patch of newly turned earth met my eye, but I said nothing to any one of it. ‘“ Here, you!’ shouted Jenkins to the Spaniard, “is this the place where the treasure was buried?” No answer. The man sulked as he sat. The heavy rope’s end curled about his half-naked body, nearly whirling him off his feet, and one of the men came forward, ostentatiously twirling a cord loop on the end of a stick. “ Maybe he’ll talk,” he said, “if we put this about his head again.” “No, no, no! You promised that there should be no more torture! Si, I will show you what there is. It is yonder—and yonder—and yonder! I took time to bury it, and I had hoped to keep it for my old age—” The maddened rush of the men in-. terrupted him. The one spade that they had carried with them for nearly forty miles had been thrown away the day before in the depths of the swamp, and they had nothing with which to dig save their sword-blades; but twenty hands made the labor light, and for an hour they panted at the tough turf, tearing away the gnarled roots, chop- ping them with their cutlases and scraping away the loosened mold with their bare hands. Once one of the men sprang up with an oath and whirled a piece of bright copper back over his shoulder under the impression that it was gold and that he had found the treasure. COPMICGLOOOKS (C@)