Even after O'Reilly had told him
something about old Don Esteban's missing riches, he scouted the
story. He peeped inquisitively into the dark opening of the well,
then he shook his head. "Caramba! What an idea! Was this old man
crazy, to throw his money away?"
"He--he had more than he knew what to do with, and he wished to
save it from the Spaniards, "O'Reilly explained, lamely.
"Humph! Nobody ever had more money than he wanted." The boy's
disgust at such credulity was plain. "This well looks just like
any other, only deeper; you'd better look out that you don't break
your neck like that foolish old woman, that Dona What's-Her-Name."
O'Reilly did indeed feel that he was making himself ridiculous,
nevertheless he made the rope fast and swung himself down out of
the sunlight, leaving Jacket to stand guard over him. Perhaps
fifteen minutes later he reappeared, panting from his exertions.
He was wet, slimy; his clothes were streaked and stained with mud.
Jacket began to laugh shrilly at his appearance.
"Ha! What a big lizard is this? Your beautiful garments are
spoiled. And the treasure? Where is it?" The lad was delighted. He
bent double with mirth; he slapped his bare legs and stamped his
feet in glee.
O'Reilly grinned good-naturedly, and replaced the planks which had
covered the orifice, then hid the rope in some near-by bushes.
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