"Too bad we can't put in a week, getting some more gold out of this creek," said Norris. He was plucking little bits of the precious metal out of a pan of gravel he'd just washed. "There's no end of the stuff here still," he complained.

"Well, but aren't we coming back some day?" observed Robert.

"Just like some folks," said Ray. "The more they get, the more they want."

We had gone to the diggings to break up the Long Tom, to make boxes for floating the horde of mined gold through the hole in the cliff. The little bamboo cylinders offered too slow a means to satisfy our impatience.

Our party divided, some remaining in that outer cavern, to receive the boxes, as they floated to the net, and empty them into the chests outside; the empty boxes being towed back again, by ropes, to be new-laden with the gold. What with making our three little "under-sea-boat" boxes, and finding proper floats for them, we did not get much of our precious freight through that first day. Jean Marat, Robert, and Carlos slept in the boats on their side of the cliffs; the rest of our party, including Andy Hawkins, and the black boy, took cheer among Duran's huts within. We gathered round a fire after we'd had our supper, and it was a blithesome party, of which the monkey was a part, perched the greater part of the time on either my shoulder or the black boy's.

There was some exchange of yarns, most of them of Norris's telling. And Andy Hawkins had some experiences to tell that were a bit off color. It came to riddles at last. And here Norris shone again; and Hawkins was not at a loss for one or two. Norris insisted that we must each offer one riddle at the least, and out came the one about, "Why does a miller wear a white hat?" and others of later coinage. Norris held back Ray for the last. He must have been sure Ray should break up the party.

"Now your turn, Ray," said Norris.

"Aw, I don't know any," pouted Ray.

"Make up one," insisted Norris.

"Well," began Ray, drawling his words, "Mary had a little—Now don't interrupt!"

"Who is interrupting?" said Norris. "But you might give us something new."

"Well, if it don't suit you," shot back Ray, "you tell it."

"Go on," said Norris.

Ray continued: "It followed her to school—one day. The teacher dropped his book, and bent down for it. But—but—" (Ray seemed to have got to the end of his powers of "make up") "but—but—but—"

"Well, go on," pressed Norris. "But what?"

"The teacher, of course," said Ray, frowning. "What do you suppose Mary brought the goat to school for?"

We turned in early, meaning to rise with the sun for the next day's labors.

I dreamed I was at the railway station, back home in Illinois. I heard the roar of a train approaching. Then came an explosion. I opened my eyes. A tropic storm was on us, there was thunder, and the rain came down in a deluge.

I started up in excitement, as I thought of that little hole in the cliff, the only outlet for all the water. What if this terrific downpour should continue, and the water back up in this walled basin! But at second thought I remembered, and it was only the water that fell within our basin that we had to fear; for the stream met the same sort of obstruction to its inflow, above, as that which retarded its outflow, below. With that comforting thought I presently fell asleep again.

The day broke fresh and cool. The creek had soon discharged its excess waters, and our labors went forward without hitch, till the last of the gold-dust had been sent out through that watery portal. And that was late of the afternoon; so that when our party had said a goodbye to the gold valley, and stood by the cedars at the cliff-top, the region was all in shadow.

We unbent the ropes from the cedars.

"No use to chance some others finding their way in," said Norris. "And we can make another ladder when we come back."

Norris must have had Hawkins blindfolded, before we made that passage through the cavern. There was no assurance, as he afterwards explained, that the pickpocket might not pick up with more of his ilk, who would wish to seek out the place.

Andy Hawkins thanked him for the precaution. "Hi never want to be able to find my way back to that 'ell 'ole again," he said.

It was quite dark when we doused for the last time through the little waterfall. Robert awaited us with one of the boats, and it was not long till we were on the deck of the Pearl.

While some were below, stowing the precious cargo, others were in some preparation for a lifting of the anchor and getting on sail at the very first waft of the land breeze. Norris threw off the jacket of his big gun, and looked to the priming.

"You must never think," he said, "that those black devils are going to see us get away with the gold without some sort of attempt to head us off."

"Yes," added Captain Marat. "I theenk they try sometheeng."

It was in that narrow, tortuous channel the attempt would be made, if at all. It would be above a mile of ticklish navigation, following the curves, and avoiding the points. And there were heights from which they could rain shot on us as we passed. We got out all the mattresses; of one we constructed a bulwark for the helmsman, another covered the skylight, others were propped up at convenient places on the deck. It was conjectured that the attack—if one there was to be—would take us on the starboard, since doubtless the sailors from the Orion would land on that side of the channel, also since it was that side offered the better vantage ground. Norris brought his gun to that side of the ship.

The moon, which was in its first quarter, was due to set about ten o'clock. We hoped that the land breeze might come soon enough to get us through before its light should have gone. We needed the view of the channel, and some sight of the enemies' lurking-place would doubtless be to our advantage.

True to its practice, the land breeze rose at about nine. Up came the anchor, and with a rattle of blocks, up went the sails. The moonlight glinted among the wavelets directly in our wake, as we moved down Crow Bay toward the isle. We passed the isle on the left. Arrived at the wide opening of the channel, the sheets were run out till the booms hung over the port bulwarks. Robert was at the wheel; Captain Marat with his rifle was in the bows, from where he gave his orders; Norris, Ray, and Carlos, were at the gun, Carlos holding Norris's rifle; the rest of us, including two of the sailors, lay behind mattresses within reach of the sheets.

The breeze was brisk enough, and soon we were in the narrows, the Pearl in the shadows cast by the western shore.

"T'ree points to port! Ease on the sheets!" came Captain Marat's order.

The Pearl swung her bowsprit round a bit.

"Steady! jus' there!" called out Captain Marat again.

It was the first bend in the tortuous channel. It was deep in the fairway, we had only to avoid the points.

We had made another turn, and were near half way down the channel, when the flash and rat-a-tat of a score of guns sounded on the heights to our starboard, and the lead rained like hail on our deck. Marat's and Norris's rifles answered. Norris, for some reason withheld the fire of the big gun.

"Anyone hurt?" called Norris.

There was no answer.

"Keep behind your mattresses," he cautioned.

He swung the big gun round, as I could hear. As much as a minute passed with no sound on shore. Then came another volley from the enemy. The two rifles replied again. There came another pattering of bullets from the enemy. Norris spat out an oath. The next moment Ray called to me, saying that Norris was wounded. Leaving the fore-sheet to the sailors, I scurried over to the gun, and we began to uncover Norris's wound.

"It's nothing bad, give them the gun first," he said.

Carlos seized the carriage and began to train the gun while random shots continued from the enemy.

"Hold her right on the edge of the bank," said Norris, his voice husky with the pain.

"Now," said Carlos.

Rufe applied the fire.

"Boom!" The thunder echoed in the hills. From the shore came horrid yells, of pain or fright, but never another shot.

"We got them that time," said Norris, with a sigh of satisfaction.

And now we turned to Norris's wound. The ball had passed through the fleshy part of his shoulder, and was not deep. We soon had on a bandage. After a good swig out of the water butt, he declared he was ready for another fight. Though after one attempt to stand he was content to recline on the deck. But he insisted on our re-loading his gun.

The moon had set when we passed out over the bar, between those two flanking lines of surf.

"There's a schooner!" called Robert, come from the wheel, where he had been relieved by Captain Marat.

To the east, the vessel showed, all sails set, scurrying away.

"The Orion!" cried Grant Norris. "Give her that shot!" he commanded.

Again the gun boomed. But it was a clean miss. Of this I was glad, for there was no occasion for further bloodshed; though I would not have betrayed the thought to Grant Norris, suffering as he did from that shot of the blacks.

We got Norris down under the cabin light, and properly cleaned and dressed the wound. While we were busied thus, Captain Marat had brought the schooner about and set her bow toward the west. In an hour everything was ship-shape, and Norris propped comfortably on a mattress on deck, with the rest of our party squatted about him. Rufe was busy in his galley, for none having had any lust for food at the proper supper time, and now the suspense having snapped, we had developed keen appetites.

"Dey ain't no use you-all tellin' me how yo' feels," Rufe called to us. "I jes' got dat same feelin' in mah insides."

The relief was general; all who were not chattering, were whistling or humming. And the sailors, forward, were mingling their voices in a negro melody. Even the monkey caught the infection, and scampered about like a playful child, times springing from shoulder to shoulder; and once he snatched a biscuit from Rufe's galley and thrust it into my hand, to Ray's pretended disgust.

"I told you the monkey and Wayne are in cahoots," he said.

But before we came to Jamaica, the animal had transferred his chief liking to Ray. None could long resist Ray.

The black boy never tired of roaming about the schooner, which to him was the wonder of wonders, never having so much as seen the picture of a ship, or anything calculated to give him overmuch yearning for the world without those rocky walls of that sink in the mountain. Julian, who had conversed much with the boy, told us that he could not understand the value of that gold on which we put so much store. To him it was nothing but so much dross that had given him so many lame backs with the delving for it.

Andy Hawkins sat there grimacing and jerking his shoulders, and telling such ears as would listen, of the bottles of soda water he would be drinking when he got to the shops. Strangely enough, strong drink had no charms for him, though he made no concealment of his slavery to the drug that had already marked him for an early grave.

"The last time I was in London," he said, "I put four bottles of 'Utchinson's Sarsaprilla sody-water down be'ind my collar; and if Hi 'ad them now, Hi think Hi'd be able to put down a heven dozen."

"You believe in getting full even if you don't get drunk, don't you?" said Ray.

They were uneventful days, those of the voyage back to Kingston, in the Island of Jamaica. It was before noon of the twenty-fifth of September that we let go the anchor in the harbor.

Captain Marat and Grant Norris had been having some conference with Carlos Brill, and at last called us all together.

"We've been talking with Carlos about the gold," said Norris. "Although the mine is his, he will not hear of any arrangement other than share and share alike—after the sailors have been paid a substantial bonus, and Hawkins and the boy have received a proper payment for their labors and sufferings."

There was an echo of protest. We felt that, as owners, Carlos and his sister should retain at the least a third of their patrimony.

"No," spoke Carlos. "No! We never get the mine if it not be for you. I feel in here" (and he put his finger to his chest) "what is right, and I can never be happy if I cannot do what is right. I speak for my sister, too, she will think jus' like me."

The final upshot of the whole discussion was, that he would allow that his sister should receive an equal share with the rest, instead of brother and sister having a single share between them as he intended. What our gold amounted to I will not put down—this is no business volume I am writing; let it be enough, that no one of our party had need to want for any material comfort thereafter, even should he live the length of two average lives.

The news of the arrival of the Pearl had, somehow, passed quickly into the city; and we had not finished our noon meal, when a boat came aboard, and we dropped our ladder, and received on deck some Kingston friends. There were Monsieur Cambon, with little Marie Cambon, she whom we rescued from the voodoos.

"She could not wait," said Cambon. "She must go and see 'the good American boys'." And Monsieur Duchanel, the old friend of the Marats, came out of the boat, too. He brought a message from Madame Marat to her son, Captain Marat. Jean must come to shore early, bringing with him all of the party; for she and Madame Duchanel were already about the preparation of a feast to the returning argonauts. Melie Brill sent a word, too, to her brother, Carlos, who must not disappoint her for an early sight of him.

"You all seem cheerful, and in good health," observed Monsieur Cambon. "But I see Mistar Norris, here—he have some accident?" Norris still wore his arm in a sling.

"Oh, no," said Ray. "It was no accident, it was all on a program; only all the program was not carried out, as, I guess, there are some voodoos left that could tell."

And then we had to recount something of that parting clash with the blacks.

"Come, Marie," said her father at last. "We must leave these boys to get ready for the party."

The child had discovered the monkey, and they two were making friends, by inches.

"Oh, bring the monkey with you!" cried Marie, as she went over the side.

And so we dug out all our best bib and tucker for the fete. Duchanel sent aboard a pair of men from his establishment, for a guard to the Pearl, since all our party were expected ashore. And the sailors were given shore leave, except only the regular watch.

It may be imagined what the party was, that evening, with the Cambons, the Duchanels, and the music of the little orchestra in that very park of a lawn, lights hung between the trees, and the cooling drinks and sherbets, and the wonderful cookery of Madame Marat, assisted by Madame Duchanel. Andy Hawkins felt a bit out of place, and kept himself a good deal in the background. Once during the evening, Ray got me by the elbow and pulled me toward a clump of the shrubbery.

"Hawkins has been sending someone on an errand," he said.

We peeked round a bush. On the ground sat Hawkins, grimacing at a pop bottle in his hand. He set it to his lips, and drained it. It was the second; the first—empty—lay beside him. In front, ten bottles, untouched, awaited his attack. He drank out a third, and with some access of squirming, a fourth. The fifth he barely tasted of, and he groaned with his defeat. He set the bottles on the ground, put his hands to his stomach and belched gas.

"What's the matter, Hawkins?" said Ray. "Sick?"

"Oh, I s'y," returned Hawkins. "Hi ain't no good no more. Four bottles puts me under the tyble."

"Are you full," said Ray, "or just intoxicated?"

"Oh, Hi feel just like my 'ead was goin' to blow hoff, or somethink," said Hawkins.

For near a week we lay in Kingston Harbor. Carlos and Melie Brill established themselves here, and they took the black boy under their care. Andy Hawkins found the place to his liking, and would remain till the spirit should move him to a trip back to London. The poor chap never got so far, for fever did for him before five months had gone. Grant Norris had some interest in Kingston, and would make it his home for the time.

During those six days, we made the division of the gold, weighing it in the hopper of a grocer's scale, set in the hold, under the open hatch.

At the end of the time, Madame Marat came aboard, and we set sail for New Orleans—and for home.

And then one day we passed through Lake Bourne and the Rigolets; the next morning we were towed in the basin to the very heart of the city. Soon we saw our chests of treasure carted off to the mint.

"Ah!" said Madame Marat, as we all entered her door, "how good it is to be home! And to think!" she spoke, looking aghast, "no dust! Thee air good and fresh! And—" (she sniffed) "thee smell of thee coffee!"

The door to the back opened, and the grinning Rufe appeared.

"Ah! thad why you delay so long," she said.

At Rufe's own suggestion, Jean Marat had given Rufe the key and permitted him to run ahead, to sweep, dust, and air the home, and get the fire going. The thing touched her good heart, and she patted the happy darky approvingly on the back.

Julian's grandfather was sent for, and there was a joyful reunion.

The leave-takings—always, some way sad they are—I omit. The three of us—Ray, Robert, and myself, made a quiet entry one night into our good old home town in Illinois. My father, who had returned from the southwest some days ago, on wired word from me, met us at the train; and he took us to the Reid home, where a little spread had been prepared.

It was when Mrs. Reid put her arms round Ray that I missed my mother most. But this good mother had a kiss for Robert and myself. Robert, you must know, was a full orphan.

There was consternation in the bank the next morning, when the three of us presented each a paper bearing amounts in six figures. They seemed to think that the receiving teller's cage would not do for such a transaction, but the business must be done in the directors' room, on the long table.

That afternoon the three of us went for a long row on the old Mississippi. We had things to discuss alone. It was Robert who finally opened the subject that was troubling us most.

"How much are we going to tell the world?" he said.

"Well," said Ray, giving his oar a vicious pull, "there's a lot of things I don't intend to tell, and——"

"But," I interrupted, "if you tell some things, and keep back some, people are going to wonder why."

"And," added Robert, "they'll fill in the blanks with all sorts of wild stuff that won't be very flattering—that's the way it goes."

And the discussion went on, till finally Ray put it flat, thus:

"Well, now then, Wayne, it's up to you to write the thing—write a book. Then if anyone gets curious and wants the story, we can say: 'All right, go and get the book.' Gee! It'll save a lot of talk—and a lot of fool questions."

THE END

[1] Sang mele—said to be 127 parts white and one part black.