“Found!” cried Ralph.  “Why, Edna, we’ve got—­”

“Be quiet, Ralph,” exclaimed Edna.  “I want to hear what the captain has to say.  Captain, what is in the mound?”

“We went to the mound,” said he, speaking very rapidly, “and when we got to the top and lifted off that stone lid—­upon my soul, ladies, I believe there is gold enough in that thing to ballast a ship.  It isn’t filled quite up to the top, and, of course, I could not find out how deep the gold goes down; but I worked a hole in it as far down as my arm would reach, and found nothing but gold bars like this.”  Then, glancing around to see that none of the Africans were returning, he took from his pocket a yellow object about three inches in length and an inch in diameter, shaped like a rough prism, cast in a rudely constructed mortar or mould.  “I brought away just one of them,” he said, “and then I shut down the lid, and we came away.”

“And is this gold?” exclaimed Edna, eagerly seizing the bar.  “Are you sure of it, captain?”

“I am as sure of it as I am that I have a head on my shoulders,” said he, “although when I was diving down into that pile I was not quite sure of that.  No one would ever put anything but gold in such a hiding-place.  And then, anybody can see it is gold.  Look here:  I scraped that spot with my knife.  I wanted to test it before I showed it to you.  See how it shines!  I could easily cut into it.  I believe it is virgin gold, not hardened with any alloy.”

“And that mound full of it!” cried Mrs. Cliff.

“I can’t say about that,” said the captain.  “But if the gold is no deeper than my arm went down into it, and all pure metal at that, why—­bless my soul!—­it would make anybody crazy to try to calculate how much it is worth.”

“Now, then,” exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, “whom does all this gold belong to?  We have found it, but whose is it?”

“That is a point to be considered,” said the captain.  “What is your opinion?”

“I have been thinking and thinking and thinking about it,” said Mrs. Cliff.  “Of course, that would have been all wasted, though, if it had turned out to be nothing but brass, but then, I could not help it, and this is the conclusion I have come to:  In the first place, it does not belong to the people who govern Peru now.  They are descendants of the very Spaniards that the Incas hid their treasure from, and it would be a shame and a wickedness to let them have it.  It would better stay there shut up for more centuries.  Then, again, it would not be right to give it to the Indians, or whatever they call themselves, though they are descendants of the ancient inhabitants, for the people of Spanish blood would not let them keep it one minute, and they would get it, after all.  And, besides, how could such treasures be properly divided among a race of wretched savages?  It would be preposterous, even if they should be allowed to keep it.  They would drink themselves to death, and it would bring nothing