“The sun is getting low, Bukári,” said I. “We shall not be able to raise much more of the gold to-day, for the daylight will soon be gone.” “Daylight and darkness are all the same to me,” replied the Moshi grimly, “and it would seem that the night is the best time for our work, for then we know that the wizards are asleep.” I was not so sure of this, but I did not contradict Bukári, who continued-- “We will change places when the daylight goes. I will take the gold from the chest and thou shalt pull it up to the tunnel.” “Very well,” I replied, “it shall be so; but, of course, we shall have to sleep some time.” “There will be time for sleep,” he rejoined, “when the chest is empty and the gold is buried.” We had now reached the foot of the cliff, and being by this time well used to the ground, we soon climbed up and entered the tunnel. I cast on the fire a faggot that I had picked up, and we took our way, without pausing, towards the treasure chamber. We had nearly reached the farther end, and the dim daylight was already visible, when Bukári stopped abruptly and grasped me by the arm; and at the same moment I became aware of a faint sound from the direction of the treasure chamber. Suddenly there arose a loud and confused shouting as of several men calling out at once, and instantly Bukári turned and ran back, exclaiming-- “Come away! It is the wizards! They are calling for a ladder.” I turned and fled after my companion as fast as I could in the darkness, and when I reached the mouth of the tunnel I saw him already half-way down the cliff. The sound of those voices had in an instant dissipated his reckless courage, and when I overtook him he was in a state of complete panic. “What are we to do?” he gasped. “They will be out directly, and we shall be taken back to the mine. Curse the gold! Why did we ever meddle with it?” And he flung his arms about with such furious gesticulations that he struck the trunk of a tree and burst open his half-healed wound, from which the blood began to trickle down on to the ground. I could have killed him, at that moment, without remorse, so angry was I at this childish outburst of passion, for now, as we walked, a trail of blood on the ground plainly marked the line of our flight. “Idiot!” I exclaimed. “Is our peril not enough by reason of thy infirmity without adding to it by thy folly? Let me bind thy wound, and if thou behavest again like a child I will leave thee.” He submitted meekly to my rather rough surgery, for I meant to stop the bleeding at whatever cost to his feelings, and when I had replaced the rag as tightly as I thought safe, I took him by the hand and plunged into the forest. For a quarter of an hour we pushed and scrambled through the undergrowth, bearing towards the river; then at length we emerged on to the narrow track, and here I cut a long thin stick, and giving him one end I grasped the other, and set off at a run. CHAPTER XVII. THE LAST OF BUKÁRI MOSHI.