All that day, or during most of it, at least, Rosa and O'Reilly sat hand in hand, oblivious1 of hunger and fatigue2, impatient for the coming of night, keyed to the highest tension. Now they would rejoice hysterically3, assuring each other of their good fortune, again they would grow sick with the fear of disappointment. Time after time they stepped out of the hut and stared apprehensively4 up the slopes of La Cumbre to assure themselves that this was not all a part of some fantastic illusion; over and over, in minutest detail, Johnnie described what he had seen at the bottom of the well. He tried more than once during the afternoon to sleep, but he could not, for the moment he closed his eyes he found himself back there in that pit upon the ridge's crest5, straining at those stubborn rocks and slippery timbers. This inaction was maddening, his fatigue rendered him feverish6 and irritable7.
Jacket, too, felt the strain, and after several fruitless attempts to sleep he rose and went out into the sunshine, where he fell to whetting8 his knife. He finished putting a double edge upon the blade, fitted a handle to it, and then a cord with which to suspend it round his neck. He showed it to O'Reilly, and after receiving a word of praise he crept out-doors again and tried to forget how sick he was. Black spots were dancing before Jacket's eyes; he experienced spells of dizziness and nausea9 during which he dared not attempt to walk. He knew this must be the result of starvation, and yet, strangely enough, the thought of food was distasteful to him. He devoutly10 wished it were not necessary to climb that hill again, for he feared he would not have the strength to descend11 it.
Luckily for the sake of the secret, Evangelina spent most of the day searching for food, while Asensio lay babbling12 upon his bed, too ill to notice the peculiar13 actions of his companions.
It was with a strange, nightmare feeling of unreality that the trio dragged themselves upward to the ruined quinta when darkness finally came. They no longer talked, for conversation was a drain upon their powers, and the reaction from the day's excitement had set in. O'Reilly lurched as he walked, his limbs were heavy, and his liveliest sensation was one of dread14 at the hard work in store for him. The forcing of that door assumed the proportions of a Herculean task.
But once he was at the bottom of the well and beheld15 the handiwork of Sebastian, the slave, just as he had left it, his sense of reality returned and with it a certain measure of determination. Inasmuch as he had made no visible impression upon the bulkhead by his direct attack, he changed his tactics now and undertook to loosen one of the jambs where it was wedged into the rock at top and bottom. After a desperate struggle he succeeded in loosening the entire structure so that he could pry16 it out far enough to squeeze his body through.
"I have it!" he cried to Rosa. Seizing the candle, he thrust it into the opening. He beheld what he had expected to find, a small cavern17 or grotto18 which had evidently been pierced during the digging of the well. He could appreciate now how simple had been the task of sealing it up so as to baffle discovery. Rosa, poised19 above him, scarcely breathed until he straightened himself and turned his face upward once more.
He tried to speak, but voiced nothing more than a hoarse20 croak21; the candle in his hand described erratic22 figures.
"What do you see?" the girl cried in an agony of suspense23.
"I—It's here! B-boxes, chests, casks—everything!"
"God be praised! My father's fortune at last!"
Rosa forgot her surroundings; she beat her hands together, calling upon O'Reilly to make haste and determine beyond all question that the missing hoard24 was indeed theirs. She drew perilously25 close to the well and knelt over it like some priestess at her devotions; her eyes were brimming with tears and there was a roaring in her ears. It was not strange that she failed to see or to hear the approach of a great blurred27 figure which materialized out of the night and took station scarcely an arm's-length behind her.
"He intended it for his children," she sobbed28, "and Providence29 saved it from our wicked enemies. It was the hand of God that led us here, O'Reilly. Tell me, what do you see now?"
Johnnie had wormed his way into the damp chamber30 and a slim rectangle of light was projected against the opposite side of the well. Rosa could hear him talking and moving about.
Don Esteban Varona's subterranean31 hiding-place was large enough to store a treasure far greater than his; it was perhaps ten feet in length, with a roof high enough to accommodate a tall man. At the farther end were ranged several small wooden chests bound with iron and fitted with hasps and staples32, along one side was a row of diminutive33 casks, the sort used to contain choice wines or liquors; over all was a thick covering of slime and mold. The iron was deeply rusted34 and the place itself smelled abominably35 stale.
O'Reilly surveyed this Aladdin's cave in a daze36. He set his candle down, for his fingers were numb37 and unsteady. Cautiously, as if fearful of breaking some spell, he stooped and tried to move one of the casks, but found that it resisted him as if cemented to the rock. He noted38 that its head was bulged39 upward, as if by the dampness, so he took his iron bar and aimed a sharp blow at the chine. A hoop40 gave way; another blow enabled him to pry out the head of the cask. He stood blinking at the sight exposed, for the little barrel was full of coins—yellow coins, large and small. O'Reilly seized a handful and held them close to the candle-flame; among the number he noted a Spanish doubloon, such as young Esteban had found.
He tested the weight of the other casks and found them equally heavy. Knowing little about gold, he did not attempt to estimate the value of their contents, but he judged they must represent a fortune. With throbbing41 pulses he next lifted the lid of the nearest chest. Within, he discovered several compartments42, each stored with neatly43 wrapped and labeled packages of varying shapes and sizes. The writing upon the tags was almost illegible44, but the first article which O'Reilly unwrapped proved to be a goblet45 of most beautiful workmanship. Time had long since blackened it to the appearance of pewter or some base metal, but he saw that it was of solid silver. Evidently he had uncovered a store of old Spanish plate.
In one corner of the chest he saw a metal box of the sort in which valuable papers are kept, and after some effort he managed to break it open. Turning back the lid, he found first a bundle of documents bearing imposing46 scrolls47 and heavy seals. Despite the dampness, they were in fairly good condition, and there was enough left of the writing to identify them beyond all question as the missing deeds of patent to the Varona lands—those crown grants for which Dona Isabel had searched so fruitlessly. But this was not all that the smaller box contained. Beneath the papers there were numerous leather bags. These had rotted; they came apart easily in O'Reilly's fingers, displaying a miscellaneous assortment48 of unset gems—some of them at first sight looked like drops of blood, others like drops of purest water. They were the rubies49 and the diamonds which had brought Isabel to her death.
O'Reilly waited to see no more. Candle in hand, he crept out into the well to apprise50 Rosa of the truth.
"We've got it! There's gold by the barrel and the deeds to your land. Yes, and the jewels, too—a quart of them, I guess. I—I can't believe my eyes." He showed her a handful of coins. "Look at that! Doubloons, eagles! There appear to be thousands of them. Why, you're the richest girl in Cuba. Rubies, diamonds—yes, and pearls, too, I dare say—" He choked and began to laugh weakly, hysterically.
"I've heard about those pearls," Rosa cried, shrilly51. "Pearls from the Caribbean, as large as plums. Isabel used to babble52 about them in her sleep."
"I found those deeds the first thing. The plantations53 are yours now, beyond any question."
Rosa drew back from her precarious54 position, for she had grown limp from weakness and her head was whirling. As she rose to her feet she brushed something, somebody, some flesh-and-blood form which was standing55 almost over her. Involuntarily she recoiled56, toppling upon the very brink57 of the pit, whereupon a heavy hand reached forth58 and seized her. She found herself staring upward into a face she had grown to know in her nightmares, a face the mere59 memory of which was enough to freeze her blood. It was a hideous60 visage, thick-lipped, fiat-featured, black; it was disfigured by a scar from lip to temple and out of it gleamed a pair of eyes distended61 and ringed with white, like the eyes of a man insane.
For an instant Rosa made no sound and no effort to escape. The apparition62 robbed her of breath, it paralyzed her in both mind and body. Her first thought was that she had gone stark63 mad, but she had felt Cobo's hands upon her once before and after her first frozen moment............