“Now fetch stones, rubbish, anything—­and throw it in there,” he gasped.

The boy and the girl fell to with a will, and after a time Johnnie joined them.  Slowly, laboriously, the three of them carried debris from the edge of the quarry and bricks from the ruined house; they scraped up armfuls of leaves and trash—­anything, in fact, which would serve to raise the bottom of the shaft and conceal the entrance to their enemy’s resting-place.  It was slavish work, but O’Reilly kept them at it until they were ready to drop.  Daylight overtook them at their task.

They were weak, sick, deadly tired; they could barely shuffle a few yards at a time when they finally reached Asensio’s hut; nevertheless there was hope in their hearts, for O’Reilly’s ragged clothes sagged with the weight of gold pieces and the little metal box he carried was heavy.  Nor were they greatly concerned about the safety of the treasure they had left behind, for the entrance to the cavern lay deeply buried, and Cobo, the guerrilla, stood guard over the chests of plate and the casks of coin.

Evangelina, vastly bewildered at the sight of the coin which was forced into her palm, went for food and spent most of the day in cooking it.  The treasure-hunters alternately slept and ate.  It was not until well along toward evening that Rosa and O’Reilly felt any desire to take stock of the contents of that jewel-box, but finally, with heads together and with backs to the door of the bohio, they made a furtive examination.  It was a task that held them spellbound, for there were loose gems of many varieties, some well, some badly cut; there were pieces of antique Spanish jewelry, valuable mainly by virtue of their antiquity, clumsy settings of silver and gold containing dead, uninteresting stones; others of the finest and most delicate workmanship.  Some of the pieces were like glittering cobwebs enmeshing sparks of fire and drops of blood.  They found emeralds and sapphires the value of which they did not attempt to estimate; and, besides these, a miscellaneous assortment of semiprecious stones.  There was a fine collection of opals of every size and color, among which were a number of huge flat black ones, indescribably gorgeous with their ever-changing peacock hues.  But finest of all the lot were the pearls.  Where old Don Esteban had secured these latter was a mystery, for he had not been a widely traveled man.  They were splendid, unrivaled in size and luster.  Some had the iridescence of soap-bubbles, others ranged from pink to deepest chocolate in color.  To touch them was like sacrilege.

O’Reilly realized vaguely that he held in his lap a fortune greater than his wildest dreams had ever compassed.  These were the jewels of a rajah.  It seemed incredible that this ragged girl beside him was a regal heiress, the possessor of a treasure such as kings might envy.  After a time he realized that the mere possession of these gems constituted a new and overwhelming menace.