"Old man," he said, familiarly addressing Jose, "having seen the girl, I do not at all wonder that blood has been shed over her. But to keep her another hour in Simiti is to sacrifice her. Get her away--and at once! If not, the people will drive you out. I talked with Fernando last night. With the soldiers gone, the people will rise up against you all."

"But, friend, where shall we go?" cried Jose in desperation. "There is no place in Colombia now where she would be safe!"

"Then leave the country," suggested Reed.

"It can not be done," interposed Don Jorge. "It would be impossible for him to escape down the river with the girl, even if he had funds to carry her away from Colombia, which he has not. At any port he would be seized. To take the trail would only postpone for a short time their certain capture. And then--well, we will not predict! To flee into the jungle--or to hide among the _peones_ along the trails--that might be done--yes."

"What's the gibberish about now, pal?" put in Harris, whose knowledge of the Spanish tongue was _nil_.

Reed explained to him at some length.

"Well, that's easy," returned Harris. "Tell 'em you'll take the girl out yourself. She's white enough to pa.s.s as your daughter, you know."

Rosendo, stunned by the sudden departure of Ana, had sat in a state of stupefaction during this conversation. But now he roused up and turned to Reed. "What says he, senor?" he inquired thickly.

The latter translated his friend's suggestion, laughing as he commented on its gross absurdity.

Rosendo dropped his head again upon his chest and lapsed into silence.

Then he rose unsteadily and pa.s.sed a hand slowly across his brow. A strange light had come into his eyes. For a moment he stood looking fixedly at Reed. Finally he began to speak.

"Senores," he said, rolling his syllables sonorously, "the time has come at last! For years I have waited, waited, knowing that some day the great gift which the good G.o.d put into my hands for the little Carmen would be needed. Senores, my parents were slaves. The cruel Spaniards drove them to and from their heavy labors with the lash; and when the great war ended, they sank exhausted into their graves. My parents--I have not told you this, Padre--were the slaves of Don Ignacio de Rincon!"

An exclamation burst from the astonished priest's lips. What, then, had this man been concealing all these years? Little wonder that he had hesitated when he learned that a Rincon had come to the parish of Simiti!

The old man quickly resumed. As he continued, his recital became dramatic. As they listened, his auditors sat spellbound.

"Don Ignacio de Rincon himself was kind of heart. But his overseers--ah, _Dios arriba_! they were cruel! cruel! Many a time the great lash wound itself about my poor father's shrinking body, and hurled him shrieking to the ground--and why? Because his blistered hands could not hold the _batea_ with which he washed gold for your grandfather, Padre, your grandfather!"

Jose's head sank upon his breast. A groan escaped him, and tears trickled slowly down his sunken cheeks.

"I bear you no malice, Padre," continued Rosendo. "It was hard those first days to accept you here. But when, during your fever, I learned from your own lips what you had suffered, I knew that you needed a friend, and I took you to my bosom. And now I am glad--ah, very glad, that I did so. But, though my confidence in you increased day by day, I could never bring myself to tell you my great secret--the secret that now I reveal for the sake of the little Carmen. Padre--senores--I--_I am the owner of the great mine, La Libertad_!"

Had the heavens collapsed the astonishment of Don Jorge and the priest could not have been greater. The coming of the soldiers, the terrific strain of the past few days, culminating in the loss of Ana--all was for the moment obliterated.

Jose started up and tried to speak. But the words would not come.

Rosendo paused a moment for the effect which he knew his revelation would produce, and then went on rapidly:

"Padre, the mine belonged to your grandfather. It produced untold wealth. The gold taken from it was brought down the Guamoco trail to Simiti, and from here shipped to Cartagena, where he lived in great elegance. I make no doubt the gold which you and the little Carmen discovered in the old church that day came from this same wonderful mine. But the ore was quartz, and _arrastras_ were required to grind it, and much skill was needed, too. He had men from old Spain, deeply versed in such knowledge. Ah, the tales my poor father told of that mine!

"_Bien_, the war broke out. The Guamoco region became depopulated, and sank back into the jungle. The location of the mine had been recorded in Cartagena; but, as you know, when Don Ignacio fled from this country he destroyed the record. He did the same with the records in Simiti, on that last flying trip here, when he hid the gold in the altar of the old church. And then the jungle grew up around the mine during those thirteen long years of warfare--the people who knew of it died off--and the mine was lost, utterly lost!"

He stopped for breath. The little group sat enthralled before him. All but Harris, who was vainly beseeching Reed to translate to him the dramatic story.

"Padre," continued Rosendo at length, "from what my father had told me I had a vague idea of the location of that mine. And many a weary day I spent hunting for it! Then--then I found it! Ah, _Caramba_! I wept aloud for joy! It was while I was on the Tigui, washing gold. I was working near what we used to call _Pozo Cayman_, opposite La Colorado, where the Frenchmen died. I camped on the lonely bank there, with only the birds and the wondering animals to keep me company. One dark night, as I lay on the ground, I had a dream. I believe in dreams, Padre. I dreamt that the Virgin, all in white, came to me where I lay--that she whispered to me and told me to rise quickly and drive away the devil.

"I awoke suddenly. It was still dark, but a pair of fiery eyes were gleaming at me from the bush. I seized my _machete_ and started after them. It was a jaguar, Padre, and he fled up the hill from me. Why I followed, I know not, unless I thought, still half asleep as I was, that I was obeying the Virgin.

"At the top of the hill I lost the animal--and myself, as well. I am a good woodsman, senores, and not easily lost. But this time my poor head went badly astray. I started to cut through the bush. At last I came to the edge of a steep ravine. I clambered down the sides into the gully below. I thought it looked like an old trail, and I followed it. So narrow was it at times that the walls almost touched. But I went on. Then it widened, and I knew that at last I was in a trail, long since abandoned--and how old, only the good G.o.d himself knew!

"But my story grows as long as the trail! On and on I went, crossing stream after stream, scaring snakes from my path, frightening the birds above, who doubtless have never seen men in that region, all the time thinking I was going toward the Tigui, until at last the old sunken trail led me up a tremendous hill. At the top, buried in a dense matting of brush, I fell over a circle of stones. They were the remains of an ancient _arrastra_. Further on I found another; and still another. Then, near them, the stone foundations of houses, long since gone to decay. From these the trail took me into a gully, where but little water flowed. It was lined with quartz bowlders. I struck off a piece from one of the largest. It showed specks of gold! My eyes danced! I forgot that I was lost! I went on up the stream, striking off piece after piece from the great rocks. Every one showed specks of free gold. _Caramba_! I reached the top of the hill. _Hombre_! how can I tell it! Tunnel after tunnel yawned at me from the hillside. Some of these were still open, where they had been driven through the hard rock. Others had caved. I had my wallet, in which I always carry matches and a bit of candle. I entered one of the open tunnels. _Dios arriba_! far within I crossed a quartz vein--I sc.r.a.ped it with my _machete_. _Caramba_! it could not have been less than six feet in width--and all speckled with gold! Above it, far into the blackness, where bats were scurrying madly, the ore had been taken out long, long ago. In the darkness below I stumbled over old, rusted tools. Every one bore the inscription, 'I de R.' Your grandfather, Padre, put his stamp on everything belonging to him. Then, as I sat trying to place myself, my father's oft-told story of the location of the mine flashed into my brain. My memory is good, Padre. And I knew then where I was.

I was at the headwaters of the Borrachera. _And I had discovered La Libertad_!"

Reed's eager ears had drunk in every word of the old man's dramatic story. His practical mind had revolved its possibilities. When Rosendo paused again, he quickly asked:

"The t.i.tle, senor?"

Rosendo drew forth a paper from his bosom. It bore the government stamp. He handed it to Reed.

"You will recall, Padre," he said, addressing the dully wondering Jose, "that I once asked you to give me a name for a mine--a rare name? And you told me to call it the--the--what is it?"

"The Chicago mine, Rosendo?" replied Jose, recalling the incident.

"Yes," exclaimed the old man excitedly, "that is it! _Bien_, I told no one of my discovery of years before. I had never had money enough to get the t.i.tle to it. Besides, I was afraid. But when it seemed that I might soon have use for it I sold my _finca_ for funds and had Lazaro apply through Don Mario for t.i.tle to a mine called--called--"

"The Chicago mine," said Jose, again coming to the rescue.

"Just so! _Bien_, Lazaro got the t.i.tle, which I never could have done, for at that time Don Mario would not have put through any papers for me. I then had the unsuspecting Lazaro transfer the t.i.tle to me, and--_Bien_, I am the sole owner of La Libertad!"

Reed examined the paper at some length, and then handed it back to Rosendo. "Can we not talk business, senor?" he said, speaking with some agitation. "I am so situated that I can float an American company to operate this mine, and allow you a large percentage of the returns.

Great heavens!" he exclaimed, unable longer to contain himself, "it is your fortune!"

"Senor," replied Rosendo, slowly shaking his head, "I want no share in any of your American companies. But--your friend--he has suggested just what has been running through my mind ever since you came to Simiti."

Jose's heart suddenly stopped. The wild, terrifying idea tore through his fraught brain. He turned quickly to Reed and addressed him in English. "No--no--it is impossible! The old man wanders! You can not take the girl--!"

"Certainly not!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Reed with some warmth. "Such a thing is quite out of the question!"

"Stuff!" exclaimed Harris. "Now look here, Mr. Priest, Reed's wife is in Cartagena, waiting for him. Came down from New York that far for the trip. Kind of sickly, you know. What's to prevent her from taking the girl to the States and placing her in a boarding school there until such time as you can either follow, or this stew down here has settled sufficiently to permit of her returning to you?"

Reed threw up a deprecatory hand. "Impossible!" he cried.

"But," interposed Harris exasperatedly, "would you leave the ravishing little beauty here to fall into the hands of the cannibals who are trailing her? Lord Harry! if it weren't for the looks of the thing I'd take her myself. But you've got a wife, so it'd be easy." He leaned over to Reed and concluded in a whisper, "The old man's going to make a proposition--listen!"

"But," remonstrated the latter, "the expense of keeping her in New York indefinitely! For, unless I mistake much, none of these people will ever see the States after she leaves. And then I have an adopted daughter on my hands! And, heaven knows! now that my ambitious wife is determined to break into New York society with her adorable sister, I have no money to waste on adopted children!"

Rosendo, who had been studying the Americans attentively during their conversation, now laid a hand on Reed's. "Senor," he said in a quiet tone, "if you will take the little Carmen with you, and keep her safe from harm until Padre Jose can come to you, or she can be returned to us here, I will transfer to you a half interest in this mine."

Jose sprang to his feet. His face was blanched with fear. "Rosendo!"

he cried wildly, "do not do that! _Dios arriba_, no! You do not know this man! Ah, senor," turning to Reed, "I beg you will forgive--but Rosendo is mad to suggest such a thing! We cannot permit it--we--I--oh, G.o.d above!" He sank again into his chair and covered his face with his hands.

Don Jorge gave vent to a long, low whistle. Rosendo, his voice husky and his lips trembling, went on:

"I know, Padre--I know. But it must be done! I will give the mine to the American--and to Carmen. He has a powerful government back of him, and he is able to defend the t.i.tle and save her interest as well as his own. As for me, I--_Bien_, I shall want nothing when Carmen goes--nothing."

"For heaven's sake!" burst in Harris, seizing Reed's arm. "If you don't tell me what all this is about now I shall shoot--and not straight up, either!"

"Senores," said Reed in a controlled voice, "let me talk this matter over with my friend here. I will come to you in an hour."