Casimiro said no more upon the subject but forthwith asked the Scotchman for an account of his adventures and stewardship, which the latter gave at some length. The chief listened attentively but made no comments until the story was finished. He expressed himself as perfectly satisfied with what had been done. Then he sat very silent and very grave for some time. Both Brent and Fraser grew a little apprehensive of what might be coming and they were startled at Casimiro’s first words when he finally spoke. “I bring bad news for my people,” he began sadly. “We cannot, I fear, expel from our country the gold which will surely crush us and blot us out.” He noticed the involuntary dismay upon the faces of both the white men. He went on with a touch of bitterness in his voice: “Do not fear. You shall have all I promised and more. The gold is more, much more, than I told you. We have been digging it up and storing it, that you might take it away easily. We cannot move it all, not with many horses, in many weeks. Many rafts cannot float it. The white men’s biggest ship cannot carry it away. I fear we are lost.” The two listeners were haggard with astonishment at the chief’s words. They looked at him confused, half comprehending. When the significance of the stern old Patagonian’s utterance came home to them its inherent improbability did not arouse doubts of his truthfulness. There was an intrinsic honesty about the man that disarmed suspicion and compelled confidence. So it was that the minds of both his companions did not stop to question his almost incredible declarations, but turned at once to the problem which his statement presented. The Scotchman was the first to find his tongue, and speaking in Spanish, which all three understood fairly well, he said: