“We will go on now, comrades,” the Jefe addressed his posse ingratiatingly. “Afterwards, we will return at our leisure and recover the silver.” Augustino broke his seal of silence again. “One never knows the way of one’s return, if one ever returns,” he enunciated pessimistically. Elated by the pearl of wisdom he had dropped, he essayed another. “Three hundred in hand is better than three million in the bottom of a well we may never see again.” “Some one must descend into the well,” spoke Rafael, testing the braided rope with his weight. “See! The riata is strong. We will lower a man by it. Who is the brave one who will go down?” “I,” said Vicente. “I will be the brave one to go down——” “And steal half that you find,” Rafael uttered his instant suspicion. “If you go down, first must you count over to us the pesos you already possess. Then, when you come up, we can search you for all you have found. After that, when we have divided equitably, will your other pesos be returned to you.” “Then will I not go down for comrades who have no trust in me,” Vicente said stubbornly. “Here, beside the well, I am as wealthy as any of you. Then why should I go down? I have heard of men dying in the bottom of wells.” “In God’s name go down!” stormed the Jefe. “Haste! Haste!” “I am too fat, the rope is not strong, and I shall not go down,” said Vicente. All looked to Augustino, the silent one, who had already spoken more than he was accustomed to speak in a week. “Guillermo is the thinnest and lightest,” said Augustino. “Guillermo will go down!” the rest chorused. But Guillermo, glaring apprehensively at the mouth of the well, backed away, shaking his head and crossing himself. “Not for the sacred treasure in the secret city of the Mayas,” he muttered. The Jefe pulled his revolver and glanced to the remainder of the posse for confirmation. With eyes and head-nods they gave it. “In heaven’s name go down,” he threatened the little gendarme. “And make haste, or I shall put you in such a fix that never again will you go up or down, but you will remain here and rot forever beside this hole of perdition.—Is it well, comrades, that I kill him if he does not go down?” “It is well,” they shouted. And Guillermo, with trembling fingers, counted out the coins he had already retrieved, and, in the throes of fear, crossing himself repeatedly and urged on by the hand-thrusts of his companions, stepped upon the bucket, sat down on it with legs wrapped about it, and was lowered away out of the light of day. “Stop!” he screamed up the shaft. “Stop! Stop! The water! I am upon it!” Those on the sweep held it with their weight. “I should receive ten pesos extra above my share,” he called up. “You shall receive baptism,” was called down to him, and, variously: “You will have your fill of water this day”; “We will let go”; “We will cut the rope”; “There will be one less with whom to share.”