Peering over the rocks, they saw a strange, luminous light moving above the valley, but before they could guess its meaning, the light suddenly vanished. While still gazing down, they heard a rapid footfall just above them, and then a strangely-shaped, dark figure bounded past them, up the rocks. It seemed the form of a man, bearing an unwieldy bundle upon his shoulder, dark, and dimly-outlined. Little slumber visited their eyes that night, and his curiosity excited, Chicot plunged through the storm on a reconnoitering expedition. He soon returned, saying that the three gold-hunters were still in their shanty. Then who or what was the dark figure? Were there still other parties in the valley? Others after the golden hoard that lay beneath the sands? Awaiting other developments, Chicot and his companions, early in the morning, saw the three friends start forth as if with some definite purpose in view. They hastily passed over the rocky ridge, unconscious of the eyes that so closely watched them. "Now's our time," eagerly muttered Upshur. "We can go and dig up their gold and be off before they get back." "Not yet," firmly replied Chicot, who seemed to possess a little more conscience than his comrades. "We don't know how soon they may be back, and I don't want to be caught stealin', jest yet. Le's watch and see what they're about, fust." Grumblingly Upshur submitted, and the trio crept up to the ridge, and peered over it, keeping well screened. From there they saw the others discover the double trail and closely examine it. Then separating, Duplin and Wythe took one course, Jack Tyrrel the other. "They're trailin' the critter we see'd, most likely," muttered Chicot. "Le's watch until they git out o' sight, then we'll go fer the gold." Impatiently they watched the tardy progress of the adventurers, for now that a chance seemed open for them to effect their object, they were one and all eager to handle the gold. From their position the valley below them was visible for nearly a mile in either direction, bare and treeless, desolate and dreary-looking. "My eyes hain't as good as they war once, but, onless I'm mightily mistook, they's trouble waitin' fer Jack, over yon'. I'm 'most sure I sighted a human on them rocks. But it's gone, now. This's gittin' interestin'--seems like we're goin' to hev two separate gangs to deal with." With curiosity fully aroused, the trio watched Tyrrel's progress, and as he passed round the point of rocks indicated by Chicot, the watchers fairly held their breath with suspense. Then came the sounds that had so deeply alarmed Duplin and Wythe--two quickly-succeeding pistol-shots, then a cry for help. "I told ye so," muttered Chicot, excitedly. "Tyrrel's in trouble 'th _some_thin'! Down--quick! See, thar comes t'other fellers. Ef they sight us, it's fight, then, shore. They'd think _we_ was at the bottom o' the deviltry. Hunker down, I say!"