out from the grove path with but four men
behind him; and they were in sore plight. Stumpy himself dangled an idly
swinging sleeve that was stained dark-red to the shoulder. A red sear
across his nose and cheek rendered him a demoniacal figure through the
powder, smoke and sweat. And his mates were tattered and cut, their
shirts bore red splashes to a man; their grimed faces and fiery eyes
held the passions of blooded men who see their reward flying from them.

"I tell ye she's gone for good!" cried the woman who had brought the
news to Stumpy. "See, she's almost there, and three chests of treasure
have gone in that vessel! Her swimming after it is but a part of her
cuteness. Now d'ye believe, fools!"

The crippled, battle-scarred pirate glared to seaward with red-rimmed
eyes in which flames of revenge started into life. His twisted, warped
life had been spent in fighting and trickery; to-day his work had
culminated in a brave stand for what he thought to be straight and
right; reward he expected, but he had earned it with blood and sweat,
hoping at the last that some of his earlier transgressions might be
atoned for in his loyalty to his mistress.

He hurled aside the persistent women, who sought some reassuring word
from him, and mouthing rather than speaking a call to his men to follow,
he plunged again into the grove path and stumbled toward the ledge
entrance. Here he clambered painfully to the gallery, cursing to himself
bitterly, never looking back to see if his men followed, intent only
upon one absorbing thing. Revenge was beyond him, since there were left
no subjects for his revenge. He had never seen the great stone at the
chamber portals left rolled aside; could not even now imagine such a
situation. No, if Dolores were gone in truth, and with her the strangers
and the treasure, then it was certain, he thought, that the great
chamber was sealed forever. And he would see into its mysteries, even
though they proved barren now. He knew the way; Dolores had shown him.

Feverishly hunting for a flint, he tore some threads from his shirt and
frayed them into tow. Then with his cutlas he struck a spark and ignited
his threads, carefully nursing the tiny flame until he could find a dry
stick. This lasted him until a pine torch was found, and then he crawled
along the gallery in search of the powder train. That, he knew, for she
had told him, would burst the rock asunder anyhow; and that would be
enough, for he h