on the table six diamonds. Though none was
of great size, all of the stones were of such purity and such flashing
brilliancy that the motor boat boys gazed at them in fascination.

"They must be worth a fortune," declared Hank Butts, in an awed,
subdued tone.

"Not exactly," smiled Mr. Seaton. "These stones have been appraised, I
believe, at about twelve thousand dollars."

After passing the gems from hand to hand, the owner of the bungalow
replaced them in the wallet, returning the latter to the same pocket
before he resumed:

"This new diamond field, a patent to which has not yet been filed with
the Brazilian Government, is in the state of Vahia. There is no harm
in telling anyone that, as Vahia is a state of great area. It is in a
section little likely to be suspected as a diamond field, and the
chance that someone else will accidentally discover and locate it is
not large."

"Yet you know the exact location--can go right to it?" breathed Tom
Halstead, his eyes turned squarely on Mr. Seaton's.

"Yes, but I don't dare go to it," came the smiling answer.

"Oh! May I ask why not, sir?"

"The Government of Brazil is, in the main, an honest one," replied
Powell Seaton. "The President of that country is an exactly just and
honorable man. Yet not quite as much can be said for the governments
of _some_ of the states of that country. The governor of Vahia,
Terrero, by name, is probably one of the worst little despots in South
America.

"Now, as it happened, before I came to know anything about this new
diamond field I had the bad fortune to make an enemy of Governor
Terrero. Some American friends were being shamefully treated by this
rascally governor, and I felt called upon to become mixed up in the
affair. I even went so far that I incurred the deadly hatred of
Terrero. It was right after this that I came upon my diamond field.
But Terrero's enmity was pressing upon me, and I had to flee from
Brazil."

"Why?" asked Tom, wonderingly.

"Do you know how things are done in South America?" demanded Powell
Seaton, impressively. "If a man like Terrero hates you, he has only
to inspire someone to prefer a serious charge against you. The charge
may be wholly false, of course, but officers and soldiers are sent, in
the dead of the night, to arrest you. These wretches, when they serve
wicked enough officials, shoot you down in cold blood. Then they lay
beside your body a revolver in which are two or three discharged
c