It was a fatal mistake; but who can set old heads on young shoulders? Roger failed to notice the gleam which came to the Spaniard's eye, failed to watch the triumph written on his face. He turned, and followed Tamba along the rocky bed. There was a movement behind him as Alvarez made ready to follow. Then something pulled gently at our hero's shoulder, a dagger blade cut the strap which secured the golden plaque, while a second movement plunged the blade deep in Roger's shoulder. Not till then had there been a sound. Now, however, there was a shout of astonishment, a sharp cry of pain, and when Tamba turned towards the young Englishman, whom he had learned to look to as his master, Roger lay bleeding in the water, while the figure of the Spaniard was just disappearing amongst the trees of the forest. CHAPTER VII The Hand of the Traitor Alvarez de Logas, the frank and friendly Spaniard, had proved false, had acted worse than dishonourably, for he had stolen the confidence of the crew of the brigantine, and the golden disc at the same time. He was a traitor to his new comrades, and a murderer at heart, for he had struck Roger with his dagger. "Where am I? What has happened to me, and why are we here in the forest?" asked our hero three days later, when he opened his eyes for the first time since he had received the treacherous stroke. "Is that you, Tamba? Tell me what has happened. I have been dreaming. I thought that we had come to this New Spain, to Terra Firma, and that you and I and----" He suddenly broke off with a feeble groan, while the native knelt beside him, taking his hand to comfort him. "I do not understand, my lord," he said. "You speak your own tongue, and forget that I cannot. What are the questions?" Roger repeated them feebly, while he closed his eyes, for even there the rays of the sun were trying. But Tamba was a discerning nurse, and at once placed a screen of huge leaves, secured to a stake, between the rays and Roger's eyes. "You were hurt," he whispered. "The treacherous Spaniard proved to be all that you suspected, and he snatched his opportunity. He is gone, and three days have passed since I saw the last of him." "And he has stolen the golden disc? Then follow! Do not lose another instant. Follow at once, and pursue him till you come up with him. The disc was entrusted to my care, and what am I to say when we return to the brigantine?" In his dismay he leaned upon his elbow, only to sink again to the soft bed of dried leaves with which the native had provided him, while the latter raised his eyes at the mention of the brigantine.