'Encuerado, as the hole became larger, was quite excited,
and soon fancied that he could perceive gold. The fact is, that every
Indian believes that all caves and grottoes contain unheard-of
treasures, either the work of nature or buried by man, and that these
treasures are guarded by some malicious genius, who allows the searchers
just to catch a glimpse of the hidden riches, but never permits their
being carried away.

"Don't laugh, Tatita," said the Indian to me, with a mysterious air;
"especially just at this moment."

[Illustration: "The animal continued to retreat before him, and led him
to the mouth of a cave."]

He then went on to tell us that a friend of his, who was tending his
flocks on the mountain, ran into the thickets in pursuit of one of
his goats. The animal continued to retreat before him, and led him to
the mouth of a cave. The Indian, hesitating at first, at length took off
all his clothes, so as to be sure that he carried no iron about him, and
entered the cavern. But he soon drew back, startled by the sight of
fifty broken boxes overflowing with coined money. Instead of profiting
by this windfall, and taking possession of the fortune by appropriating
some of it which had fallen out on the ground, the stupid fellow
returned to his village as quick as he could, and communicated his
discovery to his friends. That very evening five of them set out,
provided with sacks, intending to convey the treasure to a safe place.
They camped in the vicinity of the cave, and the night wore away in
drinking to the health of the good genius. As soon as day appeared, they
followed their guide. First they ascended, and then they descended; but
they never succeeded in finding the spot where all this enormous wealth
lay.

"He was not able to find his way back to the spot?" said Lucien, much
interested by the story.

"No, Chanito; the cave had become invisible."

"Invisible! but why?"

"Because they had some iron about them!"

"But you have just told us that he stripped off all his clothes?"
interposed Sumichrast.

"Ah! but, unfortunately, he kept his flint and steel in his hand."

The afflicted tone in which l'Encuerado pronounced this last phrase drew
a smile even from Lucien.

Again we entered the cavern, and picking over with care the layer of
charcoal which had already been laid bare, I discovered a small vase of
burnt clay, full of ashes. On one of the faces of the urn was depicted a
grinning visage,