Firmly embedded in the earth, the men found a large wooden box. Rotting from damp, with its copper bands oxidized, there still showed intact an insignia that caused the Indians to tremble with excitement. And no wonder. They had stumbled upon the buried treasure of an emperor. They hurried with the wonderful box to a small ruined pavilion at one end of the great melancholy garden. No one ever visited this little rustic building, which the superstitious vowed was haunted by the unhappy emperor. But, forgetful of spirits or other evils, Bendito and Andrés pushed back the door, and, in the half gloom, wrenched open the rotting box. Out upon Bendito’s faded _tilma_, spread beneath the box, dropped things that made even those ignorant Indians gasp in greedy terror. How they sparkled and shone--these ornaments that great queens and empresses had worn--the chains of brilliant white stones, necklaces of rubies and emeralds, exquisite ear ornaments, the diamond-studded portraits of royalties, and other fabulously valuable things. There were not more than a dozen articles in all, and yet worth much money, as these men knew. For they had both traveled to the great, rich capital city, on the Paseo, where the wealthy dames wore these same sparkling stones. The two replaced the jewels, their fingers trembling and eyes burning with greed, and begun to discuss the division. And the sun sank low while they argued and disagreed. Andrés, having no home or family wherewith to bless himself, was not missed that night. But old Juana, the wife of Bendito, being of a suspicious and jealous temperament, at last pricked forth in search of her missing lord. As it was late, there went with her their daughter, Bendita, a flat, squat maiden of sixteen. A good girl she was, but as homely as could well be. Bendito was not to be found in his usual haunts. Neither the “Caballitos” nor the “Haven of Peaceful Men” _cantine_ knew him, and he was not listening to the music in the plaza. These things being so, the baleful eye of his spouse lit up fiercely. “The disgraceful old devil,” she muttered to Bendita, “is, without doubt, in the great garden, which is sufficiently retired and convenient for flirtations. We will find him there, doubtless, with the wife of Pepe.” And there they found him, very dead, but not with the wife of Pepe! Instead, his companion was the equally dead Andrés. They had evidently quarreled over the treasure, and then fought with _machetes_. Between the two was the wooden box, with copper bands. It was blood-covered, and the women of old Bendito wailed and crossed themselves as they looked upon it and the two men who had fought over it to the death. They hastily flung Bendito’s blanket over him, and, crossing themselves, started to flee. Bendita, lingering to caress the old man, again noted the box. “It may be that it contains money,” she whispered, and picked it up, though her mother protested.