Church, but by Wenceslas. I want to warn you, that is all. I hate
priests! They got me early--got my wife and girl, too! I hate the
Church, and the whole ghastly farce which it puts over on the ignorant
people of this country! But--," eying him sharply, "I would hardly
class you as a _real_ priest. There, never mind!" as Jose was about to
interrupt. "I think I understand. You simply went wrong. You meant
well, but something happened--as always does when one means well in
this world. But now to the point."

Shifting his chair closer to Jose, the man resumed earnestly.

"Your grandfather, Don Ignacio, was a very rich man. The war stripped
him. He got just what he deserved. His _fincas_ and herds and mines
melted away from him like grease from a holy candle. And nobody
cared--any more than the Lord cares about candle grease. Most of his
property fell into the hands of his former slaves--and he had hundreds
of them hereabouts. But his most valuable possession, the great mine
of La Libertad, disappeared as completely as if blotted from the face
of the earth.

"That mine--no, not a mine, but a mountain of free gold--was located
somewhere in the Guamoco district. After the war this whole country
slipped back into the jungle, and had to be rediscovered. The Guamoco
region is to-day as unknown as it was before the Spaniards came.
Somewhere in the district, but covered deep beneath brush and forest
growth, is that mine, the richest in Colombia.

"Now, as you know, Don Ignacio left this country in considerable of a
hurry. But I think he always intended to come back again. Death killed
that ambition. I don't know about his sons. But the fact remains that
La Libertad has never been rediscovered since Don Ignacio's day. The
old records in Cartagena show the existence of such a mine in Spanish
times, and give a more or less accurate statement of its production.
_Diablo_! I hesitate to say how much! The old fellow had _arrastras_,
mills, and so on, in which slaves crushed the ore. The bullion was
melted into bars and brought down the trail to Simiti, where he had
agents and warehouses and a store or two. From there it was shipped
down the river to Cartagena. But the war lasted thirteen years. And
during that time everything was in a state of terrible confusion. The
existence of mines was forgotten. The plantations were left unworked.
The male population was all but killed off. And the country sank back
into wilderness.

"_Bueno_