THE TREASURE

Lopez staggered back a pace.  His rifle fell from his grasp as he tottered backward and lay prostrate beside the spot where also lay the negro that had earlier suffered at his hands.

Wyckoff’s desperate aim had been true.  The knife had sped straight to its mark and buried its point in Lopez’s brain.  He was beyond all help.  But Wyckoff still struggled frantically.

Tom had been busy meanwhile with the length of line brought from the boat.  It had not been intended for such a purpose, but now the boys were glad they had brought it with them.

All with one consent dashed from their position and ran toward the unfortunate outlaw, now nearly frantic.  As they approached he looked up at them.  Seized with a fit of coughing, he fell partly forward.  Then the boys knew from the blood that gushed from his mouth that Lopez’s last bullet had found its mark.

Tom, undaunted, prepared to throw his lasso.  As he did so Wyckoff again straightened in a mad effort to tear himself from the terrible sands.  Then the boys witnessed a curious sight.

It seemed that the depression into which they looked formed a sort of bowl partly full, like a bowl of porridge, with Wyckoff struggling in it at the side nearest their position.  As they looked, the contents of the bowl seemed to heave and boil, then turn over and over.  Wyckoff started down more rapidly while the boiling sands at the other side seemed to rise.

Tom quickly flung his noose.  His aim was distracted, no doubt, by the excitement through which he had just passed.  Instead of encircling the unfortunate wretch below, he threw the noose beyond.  It fell spread widely on the boiling sands.  It was in such a position that Wyckoff could not reach it.  He made a despairing effort to grasp the rope and then, as the sands about him were boiling and seething, he sank lower and lower.  At last with a shriek he disappeared and the boys saw him no more.

Tom groaned.  His effort to save the man who had done so much to bring disaster upon himself and his chums was now beyond his reach.  Although Tom had been doing all that he possibly could to help Wyckoff, he still felt keenly the humiliation of his defeat.

Jack, who stood near, laid a consoling hand upon Tom’s shoulder.  His emotion was equal to that of his comrade.  All were awed.

It was Carlos who brought them to attention again.

“Look there,” he cried.  “Look at that chest.”

The boys stared in spellbound amazement at the curious sight.

Exactly in the center of the noose of rope lying now half buried in the boiling sands rose the end of a box or chest.  It plainly showed evidence of age.  A gasp of astonishment went around.

“Pull in on the line,” urged Carlos.  “There’s your treasure.”

Like one in a trance, Tom obediently pulled on the line.  The noose tightened about the chest.  Tom dragged with all his might but was unable to move the object.  He glanced at the others.  They seemed unable to move, but gazed with staring eyes at the sight.