It was dusk when the six horsemen, descending the still tortuous path, reached the bottom of the mountain-guarded valley. They had been challenged by a small band of Indians when they first entered the narrow pass between the mountains two hours before. Now again three dark-skinned sentinels suddenly barred their way with a gruff command which the white men did not understand. Casimiro responded, giving what was probably a countersign. The shadows were so dark that the three guardsmen of the pass did not recognize their chief until he spoke. When they heard his voice they made obeisance to him, and he conversed with them for a few moments.

The party moved on presently and came at once upon a scene quite different from the wild and barren chaos of the mountain-side. It was a bit of nature’s most peaceful loveliness thrown down in the midst of her most majestic confusion; it was an emerald in a setting of jet, an oasis of beauty in a desert of shapeless grandeur. There were nodding flowers, waving grass,{59} and a grove of stately trees. The twilight softened the grim shapes of the surrounding heights. Nature’s face had changed suddenly from frowns to smiles and the transformation was bewildering. The visitors were puzzled and delighted. They had seen no sign of verdure from the pass above, when Casimiro pointed out what seemed to be but a tiny patch of white sand. It was not a wide expanse, this spot of fertility in a sterile wilderness, but it afforded pasturage for quite a large herd of horses and among the trees beyond was a village of huts.

A number of natives caught sight of the party and came to meet them. They received the chiefs, Casimiro especially, with many signs of respect and pleasure. The white men they regarded with curious interest. Dismounting at the edge of a small forest, the newcomers were conducted to the center of the village, where a fire burned in front of a group of larger huts. Food was prepared and they were soon satisfying an appetite so vigorous that even in Brent’s case it was not disturbed by any suspicion of the viands provided. After the meal, Casimiro explained that the golden sands lay just beyond the forest, a few minutes’ walk from the village. Little could be gained by a visit that night, for the darkness in the valley was by that time intense. Great as was the eagerness of Brent and Fraser to see the{60} treasure which had tempted them into this far-away wilderness, they wisely restrained their impatience. They were well content, after the excitement of the afternoon’s wonders had worn off, to indulge the heavy fatigue which followed by early retirement to the large hut and beds of skins and leaves which were assigned to them.

Very early in the morning they were ready to accompany Casimiro. Somewhat to their surprise, he led them first in a different direction from that in which he had indicated the deposit of gold lay. They came in a few minutes to the sandy, shelving bank of the river, whose course they had watched for many miles on their journey. Casimiro quickly disrobed and plunged into the sparkling water, inviting his companions to follow. Brent imagined the baptism might be some religious or purifying rite which he must perform before being allowed to touch the Patagonian treasure. Inasmuch as the bath was most tempting in itself, the young man was nothing loth, and all three were soon swimming about in the very cool stream. Brent enjoyed himself immensely until he discovered that they were not alone. Other Indians appeared above and below them on the bank of the river and in a few moments the whole tribe, men, women, and children, were in the river enjoying their morning bath.{61}

Brent did not notice what was going on till it was impossible to escape from the situation. As soon as he realized the dilemma he shouted in such horror-stricken accents to his friend that the Scotchman thought a cramp or a wandering crocodile had seized the young man. He swam rapidly to his assistance. Brent explained his alarm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to take rather a long bath, lad,” responded the Scotchman ruefully, “and the water’s getting cold already. I ought to have thought of this. The Patagonians always take a plunge, every mother’s son and daughter of them, every morning.”

“Good gracious, how long will they be about it?”

“Not long, I hope. We might swim over to the opposite bank and stay in shallow water till they clear out.”

They paddled across stream and found a place where they could sit upon a sunken rock with the water up to their necks. Presently Casimiro caught sight of them, swam across, and suggested that they should return with him, dress, and have breakfast. The two men were at a loss to explain their embarrassment to the chief. They feared he would not understand and might misconstrue their motives for not desiring to join the promiscuous bathing party.

“We want to stay in the water a little longer,{62}” said Brent in rather shaky accents, while his teeth belied his tongue by beginning to rattle violently.

“No, no, bad, very bad, too cold stay long,” said Casimiro paddling about uneasily and plainly puzzled by the behavior of the two white men. There was an anxious expression upon the two faces, perched side by side on the rock, while cold little wavelets rippled against their chins. They were attracting attention from the opposite bank where most of the natives were already donning their scanty clothing. Some of the bathers began to leave the bank, and Fraser and Brent were pleased to note that most of the women were among those going away.

“I think we’d better risk it, lad, and swim back, or they’ll all be coming over here to see what’s the matter,” said the shivering Fraser presently. “Besides, we’ll get a cramp if we stay here any longer.”

Casimiro was immensely relieved when his odd guests left their perch and struck out vigorously for the opposite bank. He followed them with strong strokes. The two were thankful to see only men about when they reached shoal water. They didn’t wait to investigate further but made a dash for their clothes, into which they scrambled and then began running violently up and down in the early sunshine in order to restore warmth to their chilled blood. Casimiro shook his head in still greater mystification.{63}

The exercise and a hearty meal quite neutralized the bad effects of the morning episode, and before the sun was two hours high, Brent, Fraser, and a party of natives sought the spot which nature had made her richest treasure-house. Five or ten minutes’ walk through the trees brought them to a bare, barren spot, scarcely more than four hundred yards in extent, apparently a mere waste of sand which had been much thrown and tossed about.

“The gold lies there,” said Casimiro, indicating the center of the white field where the surface had been much disturbed.

Brent was surprised and disappointed. He saw nothing but worthless heaps of sand in a spot whose only interest was the mighty works of nature which surrounded and shut it in. Fraser’s trained eye sparkled with anticipation.

“I see it all,” exclaimed the Scotchman looking rapidly about him at the general topography of the situation. “This used to be the bed of the river. There were falls over that straight line of rock there at the boundary of the sand, and all this is the gathered accumulation of ages in a great hollow or cup just before the water poured over the barrier. Does the river flow through the gap in the mountain we saw yesterday?” he asked turning to the Patagonian.{64}

“Yes. We believe in the early days of our fathers it flowed here,” answered the chief.

“Exactly,” went on the Scotchman. “That convulsion, whenever it took place, changed the whole course of the river and left this basin full of gold, brought down bit by bit for centuries from the hills behind us and many miles away. But what an ideal placer mine! Nothing to do but to sift the gold from the sand!” And they went toward the primitive workings.

They found much more extensive excavations than they expected. The natives had, in fact, very completely tested the extent and value of the deposit. Casimiro explained that on the borders of the sandy expanse the depth of earth was only a few inches and practically no gold was mixed with it. Beneath the sand was a solid, sloping bed of rock, almost saucer-shaped, as Fraser discovered. The gold lay mostly at the bottom and in greatest richness within a space of only about one hundred yards square. The depth of sand to the gold and bed-rock was scarcely ten feet. None of these facts were at first apparent to the visitors. They saw no gold. Fraser and Brent picked up handfuls of the coarse sand here and there, but they found no trace of the precious metal. They went down into some of the older trenches, but discovered nothing. At length Casimiro led them to{65} what was evidently a newer working. Some poor, wooden tools had been dropped by the users just where they had stopped work.

Fraser sprang into the trench suddenly and got down upon his hands and knees. He scraped about among the earth with his bare fingers. In a few moments he rose to his feet, called his friend to the edge of the ditch, and put into his hand a yellow nugget, so heavy that Brent almost dropped it. It was the size of a small hen’s egg.

“It’s thicker than plums in a Christmas pudding down here,” the old miner exclaimed in great excitement. “Come and see.”

Brent, nothing loth and as much excited as his companion, leaped down and began scratching in the earth at the bottom of the ditch as madly as the Scotchman had done. Fraser clawed at the loose sand a few feet away. The lust of gold seized both men like a fever. They tore out the shining nuggets from their envelope of earth in frenzied haste, cramming them one after another into their pockets. They shouted to each other in exclamations of glee and disjointed words over each yellow lump, bigger than the last. They toiled on almost frantically, still on hands and knees and with only fingers for tools. They became breathless with their exertions, but panting they worked on.{66}

At last Brent looked up. He saw Casimiro a few feet above him. The old chief was standing silent as a statue, with folded arms, watching the mad outburst of the passion for gold in the two men at his feet. Upon his face was a melancholy but proud superiority, mingled with something of pity and of contempt. Brent rose to his feet. His hands fell at his side and he hung his head. His face, already dripping with sweat, flushed a deeper crimson under a sudden sense of shame. He stood abashed and humiliated before this savage, who became in his eyes the personification of a higher virtue than his own. Then as the revulsion of feeling grew upon him, the young man plunged his hand into his pockets and flung back into the trench the yellow treasure he had gathered. Casimiro stopped him.

“The white man loves gold; let him keep it,” said the old man quietly.

The Scotchman’s attention was attracted by the incident, and he, too, shamefacedly recovered his self-control. He endeavored to apologize for his own and Brent’s greedy excitement. Casimiro indicated that no apology was necessary. The effect of gold upon them, in whose integrity and virtue he had high confidence, was but another proof of the danger of allowing such a temptation to remain and attract white men to his country. Both men felt thoroughly{67} uncomfortable as they clambered out of the ditch and proceeded in saner fashion to inspect the marvelous deposit of treasure.

They gathered from Casimiro’s explanation that fully two thirds of the sand-filled basin had been carefully gone over within the last few months and all the gold removed down to bed-rock. They found upon examination that the natives had not merely dug trenches through the sand. They had begun the work systematically at one side of the deposit by separating the gold from the sand along a long line. They advanced regularly and slowly in this line, throwing behind them the sand as fast as it had been treated. In this way they had shifted and cleaned two thirds of all the earth in the whole basin. About five hundred men had been engaged in this task, Casimiro said, and he believed they would be able to complete it in three or four months more.

They walked all over the deposit, and Fraser examined carefully some samples of the sand that had been worked.

“They have done it very thoroughly,” he remarked in considerable surprise. “I don’t discover a trace of free gold in what is left.”

Then in calmer frame of mind he entered again the trench which separated the barren from the gold-bearing earth and studied the nature of the deposit{68} more critically. The gold lay almost entirely in the very lowest stratum, resting upon or within five or six inches of the bed-rock which had been the bottom of the river. Casimiro said that in several quite large areas they had found nearly two inches of pure gold, unmixed with sand, lying upon the smooth rock at the bottom of the basin. In five minutes a digger had often scooped up all that a bearer could carry away. So easy and rapid had been the work of taking the gold from its bed and separating it from the gravel, that no less than thirty men on the average had been employed daily merely in carrying the metal from the trenches to the caches, or pits, which had been dug for its reception near by.

Casimiro led the way finally to these sunken depositories, only a few hundred feet away upon the bank of the river. Only one mound of earth, beside what seemed to be a large open grave, was visible. The chief said that sixteen other pits had been filled and covered over with earth and débris very carefully so as to leave no trace of their existence. They walked to the side of the excavation still open and looked in.

It would have shaken the sanity of some men to have gazed into that pit. Naked treasure was heaped up there enough to ransom a state. Both men were fascinated. The sun shone upon the virgin gold and dazzled their eyes with the yellow glare. Brent{69} turned his face away after a moment and drew his hand across his forehead as though in a maze. Fraser gazed on in apparent indifference. Presently he seemed to be measuring the pit and the pile of earth beside it with his eye and remarked musingly:

“About twelve feet by six—I wonder how deep it is?”

The gold filled the pit to within two feet of the surface of the ground. The Scotchman had no means of judging the quantity or value of the metal. Its great weight occupies such small space that he was quite confident that several hundred tons of the precious stuff lay before him. And worth one hundred and twenty thousand pounds a ton! It wasn’t worth while estimating such a treasure in pounds sterling or avoirdupois. Fraser shook his head and looked round at his companions. They too were silent and distrait.

Just then an Indian bending under a very small but evidently very heavy load came up to them. He stopped at the edge of the pit, lifted down a bag from his shoulder, opened it, and poured carelessly upon the accumulation beneath a shower of fresh gold. Then he shook the bag and walked slowly away. Both Fraser and Brent drew long breaths as they watched him. When the man had gone, Casimiro turned to his silent companions, waved his hand{70} toward the treasure before them, and remarked with a grim smile:

“It is yours. When will you take it away?”

“We must think, Casimiro,” said Fraser presently. “We are overcome by the sight of such treasure. It is beyond anything we have dreamed of.”

It was some time before the effect of the demonstration of the truth of Casimiro’s promises enabled the two white men to think calmly on the situation and on the problem before them. They told each other that they would be perfectly content if they might take away with them a small fraction of that last great pitful of gold and leave all the rest. But this they could not do. They were under pledge to despoil these Patagonians of all their riches or go away empty-handed. If they succeeded in the apparently feasible task of carrying away this fabulous treasure, they were to be made rich far above any of their fellows for practically nothing in return. It seemed like robbery. They had not looked at it in that light before, but the sight of the gold itself aroused their scruples. They went over together two or three times Casimiro’s statement of the case from the standpoint of his people and they were unable to find serious moral or economic flaws in it.

After they had discussed the matter, they invited{71} Casimiro to consult with them. They pressed him to suggest additional services which they might render in exchange for the stupendous gift he was about to bestow upon them. The wise old man shook his head.

“The white man’s luxuries would but corrupt and destroy us,” he said. “It were better that we died by his sword than by his vices. I fear the effect of even a too liberal supply of food and clothing and arms which you will send us. It will encourage sloth and soften too much the wholesome rigor of our simple life. No, no, you shall not kill us with kindness.”

Brent, who knew something of the crime his own countrymen had committed in sapping the life and spirit of the North American Indians by a mistaken liberality in supplying their physical appetites, admired and indorsed the wisdom of the old chief’s words. Casimiro exacted a pledge from both men that the danger which he feared should be carefully guarded against by them in the selection of the annual shipload of goods which they agreed to send to his people.

For several days Fraser and Brent devoted themselves assiduously to the problem—how to convey safely and with reasonable speed to the coast the great mass of treasure which had been spread before{72} them. It was no trifling task, and the American was inclined to be almost hopeless of its accomplishment. He felt himself unable to contribute anything to the solution of it, and he chafed under the ignorance which made him helpless against a practical difficulty, while his partner was full of resources.

First, they set about ascertaining as closely as possible the quantity or weight of the metal which was to be moved. In this matter, Brent, who was expert at figures, was able to be of assistance. They made calculations in two or three ways. They estimated by various rude tests that the load carried by each bearer from the trench in the sand to the hoarding-pits was about one hundred pounds in weight. Casimiro was able to inform them that each pit contained about five thousand such loads. This meant about two hundred and fifty tons of virgin gold in each pit, or a total of about four thousand tons!

Fraser managed to contrive a serviceable pair of balances, with the aid of his pocket knife, string, bits of wood, and other material at command. They tested them by balancing weights in the improvised scale-pans and then shifting them from one arm to the other. The exact weight of their rifle cartridges was printed upon the cartridge boxes. Using several of these in place of standard weights they balanced them with gold-dust. The Scotchman after some difficulty{73} managed to construct a cubical receptacle which his pocket rule assured him measured exactly twelve inches in each of its dimensions. Its capacity therefore was just one cubic foot. Into this he poured gold from his scale-pan after balancing it with cartridges and keeping account of the number of weighings. It was a slow process and it took a long time to fill his cubic-foot box. He was surprised to find that the weight of a cubic foot of closely-packed, loose gold, according to his rough test, was about one thousand pounds avoirdupois. Then they measured the last pit which had been dug and which Casimiro assured them was the same as the others in size. They found that the space designed to be occupied by the gold was about four hundred and thirty-six cubic feet. That quantity of gold would weigh then about two hundred and forty tons—practically a confirmation of their first estimate.

After all this work had been done, Brent suddenly called to mind the school-book information that the weight of a cubic foot of water is sixty-two and one half pounds and that the specific gravity of gold is nineteen—simple facts, which, if he had recollected them sooner, would have saved them more than a day’s labor.

The truth was before them, at all events, that the prodigious treasure already awaiting removal amounted{74} to about four thousand tons, while if Casimiro’s estimate of what remained proved correct the final total would be no less than six thousand tons. The figures were almost meaningless to their comprehension at first. Brent figured out on a bit of paper what it meant in money. Gold he knew was worth about three hundred dollars a pound when pure. Six thousand tons, or twelve million pounds avoirdupois, at that rate amounted to three billion six hundred million dollars! He showed the figures to Fraser.

“More than seven hundred million pounds sterling!” the Scotchman exclaimed. He was silent for some moments, and then he said: “Well, lad, I wish it was only six tons instead of six thousand. It would be far more tempting. One means comfort and no worry for each of us. The other—I’m afraid to think what it may mean for us.”

“It will mean a life of the most galling publicity and notoriety, unless we can conceal the existence of the bulk of the treasure from the world’s knowledge,” said Brent earnestly, as the apprehension of the penalties of great wealth suddenly dawned upon him.

“You are right,” answered Fraser. “We cannot guard the secret too carefully, and all our plans must bend to that end.” From that hour, Brent never lost sight of this danger. It furnished the dominant motive in all his dealings with the gold of the Cordilleras.{75}

After the fourth day following their arrival in the golden valley, the two strangers and the native chiefs took careful account of the facilities at their command for transporting the immense weight of treasure which nature had surrendered to them. Fraser was much pleased to discover that the material for raft-building was very abundant. The change in the bed of the river had left a great level area below and in front of the rocky barrier over which the water had formerly poured. The new course of the stream after passing through the riven mountain returned to the old bed at a sharp angle just below this point. At times of high water this former river-bottom was flooded, and it had become the depository of great quantities of débris which the receding waters in their annual or semi-annual freshets had left behind. Fraser noted that an immense number of well-seasoned logs or tree-trunks were included in the accumulation.

The supplies from the schooner, including all the tools and other appliances, arrived by the time the Scotchman was ready to make use of them. He tried the experiment of raft-building at once. The Indians proved ready pupils, and the novelty of the work attracted them. The horses easily dragged the heavy timber by means of log-chains to the water, and in a single day Fraser constructed a large raft, capable of floating safely seventy-five tons in any but a most{76} violent stream. He was astonished to find the wood so buoyant. It was of light grain, but not porous, and it easily sustained more than twice its own weight in the water. The Scotchman estimated that the building of a series of rafts that would carry one hundred tons each might easily be accomplished.

The problem of transportation appeared, therefore, to find its solution provided by nature, who in her lavish generosity had supplied even the means for making the rifling of her treasure-house a pastime. Fraser explained his plans to Casimiro, loaded his trial raft with stones to show its carrying capacity, and made it clear that the means were at hand for conveying safely away even the immense load of wealth that had appalled him. The chief expressed his admiration and satisfaction in strong terms. He was fully convinced that his plans regarding the gold which menaced his people would be successfully executed.

The new year had arrived before all the elements of the situation had been thoroughly examined and the two white men were able to make comprehensive plans for the future. Fraser estimated that the work of taking out the remainder of the gold, building rafts, floating the treasure to the coast, and there unloading and re-burying it before putting it on shipboard, would occupy fully six and perhaps eight{77} months. To carry it away to London or New York would require a vessel of the largest capacity. In view of their wish to conceal the existence of the treasure from the world, elaborate precautions must be taken. Not an ounce of the gold must be allowed to leave the country except under secure cover, where it could masquerade as ore. Fortunately, the very vastness of the treasure was the best security against suspicion. Six tons of gold packed in mysterious boxes might lead its handlers to guess its identity; but six thousand tons, never. Nothing approaching such a quantity of the precious metal ever existed under one control and everybody would scout such an idea as preposterous.

After many long talks they decided upon a general plan of operation. Fraser would remain and direct the work of transporting the gold to the coast. Brent would take with him to New York about two million dollars’ worth of the metal. There he would buy or build a suitable private vault for the storage of the rest of the treasure. In the following summer he would charter a steamship of the largest size, and provide a partial cargo of stores for the Indians and a sufficient number of suitable cases for containing the gold. He would sail south on this vessel, timing his arrival in the harbor where the schooner now lay as nearly as possible on the first of September. The{78} work of transshipping the gold and carrying it to New York would then be carried out as speedily as possible. This plan was explained to Casimiro and he approved it without hesitation.

They proceeded at once to act upon it. It was decided to send Brent’s preliminary fund and as much more as possible down the river upon the experimental raft that had been constructed. Brent determined to make the trip himself in the same way. Twenty Indians were assigned the task of loading the raft with gold. Fraser limited the quantity to about sixty tons. Three days of hard work were required before the score of natives had deposited this heavy weight of metal upon the structure. It occupied very little space, but a good deal of difficulty was experienced in stopping up the chinks between the logs and providing a resting-place sufficiently secure so that the gold would not sift through.

At length the primitive craft was ready for its first and last voyage, as the bearer of a cargo far more precious than any pretentious treasure-ship ever carried. Brent finally made ready to depart, with a great deal of regret. He had found genuine pleasure, as well as many wonders, in this strange valley. The simple life of the inhabitants, their contempt for civilized wealth, the character of some of their leaders, all had a strong charm for him. His own thirst for{79} gold had slackened. Its prodigal accumulation no longer aroused any emotion in him. The ambition for great riches had never been as strong in him as it is in many men, but he was himself surprised at his growing indifference to wealth. He assured himself that he would become again as other men, as soon as he should again be among his fellows.

On the eve of the sailing of the raft, Fraser and Brent had a last talk. The friendship between the two men had grown into a deep and strong affection on both sides. The parting was a sincere sorrow to each. The hard-shelled old Scotchman was even a little superstitious about it. The eight months’ separation did not seem to threaten serious danger to either of them, but he was vaguely apprehensive.

“Take good care of yourself, lad,” he said earnestly, “and remember, if anything happens to me, you are to see this thing through alone. I have Casimiro’ s promise to deliver the gold to you, if I should knock under.”

Brent reassured the stanch old man with a promise to greet him safe and sound on the deck of their treasure-ship eight months later. They bade each other an affectionate farewell just as the raft shoved off into the current at daybreak next morning, and the last thing Brent saw as the raft swept around a turn in the stream was the sturdy figure of Fraser waving him good-by.{80}

Casimiro and three other Indians manned the treasure-raft. The chief assured Brent that the navigation would not be difficult, for although the current in places was very swift there were no rocks to encounter. The young man expected nothing more than a pleasure trip, and he gave himself up to admiration of the scenery of the marvelous valley as it disclosed itself from new points of view. There was much that was wonderful, but the outlook was not as imposing as from the mountain trail by which they had entered the strange wilderness. A part of the way high precipices shut out all but a narrow strip of sky above and deep shadows and solemn echoes made their swift passage along the black stream uncanny and fearsome.

The Indians seemed a little anxious as the raft approached the entrance of the valley. The stream was rather high and the current swifter than they had expected. Armed with paddles, they prepared to guide the fast-moving raft from either bank toward which it might approach too near. Brent saw the danger and sprang to assist. The momentum which their heavy cargo gave them carried the unwieldy craft perilously near the right bank, where the stream turned slightly in the opposite direction. Their speed was so great that a touch against the steep rocks meant destruction. The four Indians plied their paddles with all their{81} strength to swing the head of the raft toward midstream. It was useless to attempt to use poles against the unyielding rocks which they were passing so rapidly.

Brent did not know this danger. He picked up a pole, sprang to the side, and tried to fend off the raft by pushing the pole against the bank. The pole was quickly dashed out of his hands, and, before he could recover himself, over he plunged into the rushing stream.

The Indians heard his cry as he fell. Casimiro sprang toward him. The young man had gone down in the still closing gap between the raft and the precipitous bank. The chief shouted to the others to stick to their paddles and pull still harder. Keenly he searched the dark water. In a moment he caught sight of the body as it rose. Standing ready with a pole, the Indian prepared to assist the young man aboard, but he perceived when the body reached the surface that it was motionless. It floated for a moment, only two yards from the raft and almost touching the rocky bank past which it swept. Instantly the old man threw himself into the water, seized the already sinking man, and with a couple of strong strokes succeeded in getting hold of the raft. The chief called to one of the Indians and a moment later both men were back upon the raft.{82}

The danger of collision was over by this time, and two minutes later they were out under smiling skies, floating peacefully between the green banks of the plains. Brent did not regain his senses for some time and the Indians feared for a little that he was not merely stunned. They found a small gash in the scalp which might mean a fractured skull, and Casimiro was mightily relieved when the young man finally opened his eyes. Soon he was able to make light of an adventure which had almost put an end to his interest in Patagonian treasure-beds and all other terrestrial affairs.

The remainder of the raft’s trip was without important incident. It was a novel journey, not too monotonous to be boresome, and it came to a successful end the second day in the little cove where the schooner’s cargo had been landed nearly a month before. They grounded the raft without attracting the attention of any one on the schooner, which still lay anchored in the same spot in the harbor. Brent and Casimiro boarded the ship the next morning. Her captain and crew had grown heartily tired of their long idleness, and they welcomed the two men heartily. The work of landing the boxes intended for containing the gold was begun at once. Meantime, Brent instructed the mate and one of the sailors of the schooner to take a small boat and make careful{83} soundings of the entrance and anchorage in the harbor. They were to prepare a rough chart of the small bay, which would serve for navigating the steamship in which the young man expected to return later in the year. He did not explain, however, the purpose for which he desired the survey.

He landed all the boxes which had been made in Buenos Ayres. Twenty, which he intended to use at once, he put upon the raft, the others he stored upon shore where they could be filled during his absence. He did not fill his twenty boxes quite full of gold. He spread a covering of earth and gravel over the surface of the metal before screwing down the cover. Within three days his cargo was aboard ship, the harbor soundings were finished, and he was ready to sail. The task of landing the rest of the gold from the raft was left to the Indians.

The voyage north was begun on the 12th of January. Buenos Ayres was reached after an uneventful trip three weeks later. The twenty enormously heavy boxes were transshipped to a steamer which was to sail in three days for Rio Janeiro. In the three days, Brent purchased a large supply of wire rope, spikes, saws, anchors, and other raft-building material which Fraser believed he would need, and sent the schooner back with them to the Patagonian coast. Then he took passage north. He lost a week at Rio Janeiro,{84} waiting for a boat bound to New York, and it was finally the 15th of March when he found himself one morning alongside the wharf at Roberts’ Stores in Brooklyn.

The custom-house inspector who came aboard did not seem particularly interested in Brent’s twenty cases of “mineral ores.” The owner removed the cover of one of them and the inspector poked his fingers into the harmless looking contents and promptly passed the lot. This ordeal passed, Brent hurried to the ferry and a few minutes later stepped ashore in his native city.