No one had interrupted Duncan Moit as he read clearly and slowly the above interesting story, but as he paused at the close of the last paragraph I have recorded we gave some sighs of wonder and admiration and looked at one another curiously to see what impression the “history” was making.

“Go on!” cried Uncle Naboth, eagerly. “That can’t be all.”

“No,” answered the inventor, “it is not all. But it seems to cover the period of the first writing. The other entries are more hurried and more carelessly inscribed.”

“Is the map he mentions there?” I asked.

“Yes. It is badly drawn, for an engineer, but sufficiently clear, I imagine, to enable one to follow it with ease.”

“Then read on, please.” He obeyed at once.

“Last night, as I approached the forest after my work in the valley, I saw a man’s face peering at me from between the trees. The moon shone on it clearly. It was an Indian’s face, but in an instant it had disappeared. Greatly startled, I searched the forest with care, but could find no trace of the spy. I may have been deceived, however. Perhaps my nerves are getting unstrung.”

Moit turned a leaf.

“Again I have seen a man’s face,” he read. “This time it was in the center of the valley, among a clump of low bushes. I ran to the forest in a state of excitement; then reproached myself for my folly and came back; but I could find nothing.”

“These are all different entries,” remarked the reader, turning another page. “I will read them as they appear.”

“I am confident,” proceeded the writer, “that I have been discovered at last by the San Blas. They have spies all around me, by day as well as by night, but to my surprise they have not yet molested me in any way. I have determined to get away at once—this very night—but as I may be seized, and perhaps murdered, I shall not take more than a part of my treasure with me. This valley of diamonds is far richer than any field ever discovered in South Africa, and if I am able to escape I shall secure assistance and come here again in spite of the San Blas. So I will leave the greater part of my treasure where it has been hidden, and take only such stones as I can comfortably carry in my pockets. I must write a description of where the diamonds are secreted, for if I am killed and any white man comes upon this book, I bequeath to him my wealth, provided he is brave enough to take it from the country of the San Blas. Here is my injunction: When you have reached the valley I have marked upon the map, you will find near its center a boulder of deep red granite, bare and solitary, the upper portion bearing an arm-like projection or spike that points directly toward the forest. Follow this line of direction and you will come upon a gigantic mahogany tree standing just at the edge of the forest, which is really a jungle at this point. Back of the mahogany is a large dead stump, surrounded by moss. Lift the moss at the right of the stump and you will come upon a cavity in which I have secreted my hoard of diamonds. You will have no trouble in recognizing the valley, on account of the remarkable boulder of rock, and the rest is easy.... I have reached the stream and found my canoe safe; but I must keep hidden among the bushes until another night. I do not think I have been followed, but I cannot be sure. The strange inaction of the San Blas astonishes me and makes me uneasy.

“The worst has happened, and it is not so very bad, after all. They seized me last evening and took away my diamonds, which they cast into the river with absolute disdain of their value. But then they at once released me, and went away and left me to myself. Fortunately I had hidden ten fine stones in a roll of bark, and these they failed to discover. I am sorry to have lost the others, but these few specimens will prove the truth of my story when I get home. The adventure shows my wisdom in leaving the bulk of the treasure secreted in the forest.... There is no use in hiding myself now, for my presence is well known. Why I should have been spared, when every other white intruder has been killed, I cannot explain. But they seem to have made an exception in my favor, and I am jubilant and fearful at the same time. Somehow, I cannot help imagining that these dreadful Indians are playing with me, as a cat does with a mouse. But I shall go boldly forward, and trust to luck to escape.”

“Is that all?” I asked, as Duncan Moit paused and closed the book.

“It is all.”

“But the rest of the poor fellow’s story is as clear as if he had written it,” I commented, musingly. “The Indians waited until he had reached the last boundary of their territory, and then put an arrow into his heart. Where he fell they left him, trusting the canoe would float down the stream and warn other whites not to venture too near.”

“Do you think that story is true?” enquired Uncle Naboth, with some asperity.

“Why not, Uncle?” “It sounds fishy, to my notion.”

I drew the roll of bark we had taken from the pocket of the dead man and cut with my knife the thongs which bound it together. After removing the outer wrappers I found ten crystal pebbles in the center, which I handed around so that all could examine them with care. Only Uncle Naboth had seen rough diamonds before, but the grunts of the shrewd old trader told me at once that he recognized the value of these stones.

However, I looked up the acid test in one of my books in the stateroom, and was able to apply it in a satisfactory manner. We managed to crumble a portion of one stone and with the dust thus secured Duncan polished a small surface on another. They were diamonds, sure enough, very white in color and seemingly perfect specimens.

And all the while we were thus occupied the four of us were silently thinking. Each one, moreover, took the book and read with care the story for himself. The map was crude enough, but I stared at it so intently that every pencil mark was indelibly impressed upon my brain. At dinner we were an unsociable party. Afterward we assembled on the deck. Uncle Naboth smoked his pipe instead of the big cigar, but said nothing. Ned put his face between his hands and resting his elbows upon his knees stared fixedly at the deck in meditative silence. Duncan Moit hung over the rail and gazed at the river as it murmured by.

I looked at my comrades and smiled at their absorption. This longing for treasure and sudden wealth is natural enough, and few men are able to escape it. I knew very well that all of us were pondering on a way to get at the diamonds Maurice Kleppisch had left secreted in the forest of San Blas. I may as well acknowledge that I was fully as covetous as the others, but a hearty fear of those strange Indians did much to lessen my desire to visit them.

The evening passed with scarcely a remark, and when we went to bed we were still thinking. Not of the wrecked ship, though, or how we should save the cargo and get ourselves into some civilized port. The reading of the dead man’s narrative had turned our thoughts entirely from our own mischance and inoculated us with a feverish desire to plunge into the same adventurous channels that had resulted so fatally in his own case.

At breakfast Uncle Naboth suddenly abandoned all pretense of reserve.

“This is the San Maladrino river,” he asserted.

We all nodded, our faces serious and attentive.

“Of course,” said I. “He returned the same way he entered the San Blas country, and we found him floating on this very stream.”

No one cared to discuss a proposition so very evident, and having hurriedly finished the meal we assembled on deck to resume the conversation.

“Gentlemen,” said Moit, “you have all arrived at some conclusion, I am sure. Let us exchange ideas, and discuss their various merits.”

I asked Ned Britton to speak first.

“Well,” said he, “it wouldn’t be right or proper for us to leave them two or three quarts o’ di’monds to rust under that stump. I notice the book says these Injuns don’t have firearms; but we’ve got a plenty, so I perpose as we march in, pepper ’em good if they show fight, an’ then march out agin with the di’monds. I believe if we put up a good front there’s enough of us to do the job.”

“Especially as a company of carefully drilled soldiers got wiped off the earth,” I remarked somewhat sarcastically.

“Colombian sodgers don’t count,” said Ned. “Our men is the right stuff ’cause they’re all Americans.”

“I confess that I do not like the looks of this arrow,” said Moit, handling cautiously the bronze tipped weapon we had drawn from the dead man’s breast. “It is evident they can shoot straight, and there may be thousands of the San Blas to fight, for all we know. I think that open warfare would result in our total extinction.”

“If by that you mean we’d be punched full o’ holes, I quite agree with you,” observed Uncle Naboth. “Diplomacy’s the thing; diplomacy an’ caution. You can ketch more flies with sugar ’n’ you can with vinegar.”

“Haven’t you a suggestion, Uncle?” I asked. During several voyages in the company of Naboth Perkins I had learned to have great respect for his shrewdness and judgment, and for that reason I now awaited his reply with genuine interest.

He relighted his pipe, gave two or three energetic puffs, and then began:

“This fellow, you’ll notice, tells us a good deal about the San Blas Indians, an’ what he says is all worth careful considerin’. They ain’t like common savages, but have their laws an’ live up to ’em. In one place he says niggers is used by them for slaves, and that white slaves of Injuns that is friendly to ’em, an’ not to the whites, is let alone whenever they’re in their country. Gentlemen—an’ Sam, too—that’s my keynote. It tells us plain what to do, an’ how to do it!”

He looked at us triumphantly, but I was too stupid to see the point of this argument.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Uncle,” I said.

“Well, you’re wrong, Sam. It’s a thing you can’t help now, but you’re likely to outgrow it. Hey there, Nux!” he called. “Get Bry an’ both o’ you come here.”

I started, beginning to see what he meant; but I said nothing until the two Sulus stood before us. Bryonia was tall and slender, and very powerful. Nux was shorter and stouter, but equally strong of muscle. Their faces were intelligent and expressive and their poise exhibited a native dignity. Two more faithful followers no man ever had than this pair of South Sea Indians, and I regarded them more as brothers than servants, for I owed my life to their bravery and care.

“Gentleman,” announced Uncle Naboth, “these boys is Indians, and mighty good Indians, too. They’re goin’ to take us four white folks into the San Blas country as their slaves. They’ll be finely welcomed, for they’ll pound an’ kick us all around, and we’ll be meek as Moses till we git our fists on them di’monds. It’s jest as easy as rollin’ off a log, an’ a heap more fun.”

I admit the suggestion filled me with admiration, and I saw Duncan Moit’s face brighten as soon as he heard it. “That’s it, sir!” he exclaimed. “That is just the idea I was looking for, to connect with my own. By putting the two together I believe we shall succeed without a doubt.”

“What is your idea, then?” I asked.

“To travel in my convertible automobile.”

“What! Through a wilderness?”

“Along the streams as far as the water will allow, and then over the level plains. The machine will run in any farming country, for you must remember that it does not sink into soft ground as ordinary heavy automobiles do. Indeed, by turning the pumps into the vacuum chambers and exhausting them, I can render the car so light that it will almost skim over a marsh.”

“But what’s the use of travellin’ that way?” asked Uncle Naboth.

“We gain safety, in case of attack; speed, if we are forced to fly; comfort, by carrying our hotel always with us, and, above all, I rely upon the invention to awe the simple Indians and make them look upon us as superior creatures. The machine is here and in working order; it would be folly, when it offers so many advantages, not to use it.”

“Very good,” said I, approvingly, for I could see the force of his arguments.

“The only thing that worried me,” continued Moit, “was the fact that our being white would arouse the enmity of the San Blas, in spite of the wonders we can show them. But if Nux and Bryonia pose as the masters, and we are merely their slaves to run and care for their magic travelling machine, then we need have no special fear.”

“Magic travellin’ machine is good!” cried my uncle. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Mr. Moit, as sure as fate!”

The inventor smiled, as if pleased with the compliment.

“If I can get a share of those diamonds,” said he, “I will be independent of my rich uncle in Los Angeles, and will have the means to secure my patents, erect my own factory, and manufacture the machines myself. It is something to work for, is it not?” I had been carefully examining the proposition, and now said:

“There seems to be a serious flaw in your arrangement, Uncle.”

“What’s that, Sam?”

“It isn’t reasonable that four white men should be slaves to two black ones. Such a combination would excite the suspicions of the Indians at once, if they are really as clever as they are reported to be. Take your own case, for example, Uncle Naboth. You couldn’t look like a slave for a single minute.”

Indeed, Mr. Perkins’ stout little body, his cheery face and shrewd eyes, and the general air of prosperity and contentment that radiated from his benign personality, were a clear refutation of any suggestion of slavery or even dependence. Even Ned smiled at the idea, and Duncan Moit shook his head with a sigh.

“Mr. Perkins can’t go,” he said.

Uncle Naboth looked disappointed, and then puffed his pipe angrily.

“You fellers don’t allow for my actin’,” he growled. “I’m as good a play actor as ever travelled with a show.”

“That may be, Uncle; but you don’t look the part, and unfortunately you can’t disguise yourself,” I said. “But I want it clearly understood that whoever goes on this adventure, we are all to have an equal share in the spoils. For the opportunity belongs to us all alike, and all would be glad to go and do their full share.”

“I am willing to agree to that,” said Moit.

“Then I propose that you and I alone accompany Bry and Nux on the expedition,” I continued. “Two of us are as good as a dozen, for we cannot fight our way, in any event.”

“What about me?” asked Britton, anxiously.

“I want you to take a crew in the long boat and try to make Colon, by feeling your way north along the coast. From there you can report by wire our mishap to Mr. Harlan, and get his instructions what to do. Uncle Naboth must in the meantime take charge of the wrecked ship and the remaining men. This country isn’t very big, you know; so we all ought to be able to meet again in a few days, when we can decide upon our future movements.”

And so the matter was finally arranged, and it was decided that Ned and his crew in the long boat and our party in our “magic travelling machine” would leave the wreck the next morning and proceed in opposite directions upon our respective missions.