“Now,” he went on, “now the spell is broken, and the sleepers must depart to sleep elsewhere.  Enter, white men; enter, if you dare, and ask for pardon and for blessing if it may be found, and gather up the dry bones and take the treasure that was theirs, if it may be found, and conquer the curse that goes with the treasure for all save one, if you can, if you can, if you can!  Rest you here, maiden, in the sweet sunshine, and follow me, white men; follow me into the dark of the dead to seek for that which the white men love.”  And once more he vanished down the passage, turning now and again to beckon to them, while they went after him as though drawn against their wish.  For now, at the last moment, some superstitious fear spread from him to them, and showed itself in their eyes.

To Benita, half fainting upon the stone seat, for this experience had shaken her to the heart, it seemed but a few minutes, though really the best part of an hour had gone by, when her father reappeared as white-faced as she had been.

“Where is Mr. Meyer?” she asked.

“Oh!” he answered.  “He is collecting all the golden ornaments off those poor bodies, and tumbling their bones together in a corner of the cave.”

Benita uttered an exclamation of horror.

“I know what you mean,” said her father.  “But, curse the fellow! he has no reverence, although at first he seemed almost as scared as I was myself.  He said that as we could not begin our search with all those corpses about, they had best be got out of the way as soon as possible.  Or perhaps it was because he is really afraid of them, and wanted to prove to himself that they are nothing more than dust.  Benita,” went on the old man, “to tell you the truth, I wish heartily that we had left this business alone.  I don’t believe that any good will come of it, and certainly it has brought enough trouble already.  That old prophet of a Molimo has the second sight, or something like it, and he does not hide his opinion, but keeps chuckling away in that dreadful place, and piping out his promises of ill to be.”

“He promised me nothing but good,” said Benita with a little smile.  “Though I don’t see how it can happen.  But if you dislike the thing, father, why not give it up and try to escape?”

“It is too late, dear,” he replied passionately.  “Meyer would never come, and I can’t in honour leave him.  Also, I should laugh at myself for the rest of my life; and, after all, why should we not have the gold if it can be found?  It belongs to nobody.  We do not get it by robbery, or murder; nuggets are of no use to Portuguese who have been dead two hundred years, and whose heirs, if they have any, it is impossible to discover.  Nor can it matter to them whether they lie about singly as they died or were placed after death, or piled together in a corner.  Our fears were mere churchyard superstitions, which we have caught from that ghoul of a Molimo.  Don’t you agree with me?”