"We want to be square with you, Wyckoff, even if you
have treated us exceedingly unkind."
"I want you fellows to take your gear and go back north!" shouted
Wyckoff in an angry tone. "I'll fix you yet for this!"
"We have a right to be here," Jack put in, "so long as we don't harm
anyone. We are merely tourists out for a pleasure trip."
"You lie!" almost screamed Wyckoff. "You're after the Spanish Chest, but
you shall never have it! It belongs to me!"
In his excitement the prisoner almost forgot himself and shook his fist
at Jack threateningly, rising to his feet meanwhile.
"Sit down!" Tom's voice, although calm, carried a world of meaning to
the excited man whose glance toward Tom took in the unwavering blue
muzzle of the Weapon in his captor's hand.
"Suppose for the sake of argument that we were after this mythical chest
of treasure whose value has been without doubt multiplied many times in
the retailing of its story," Jack argued, "does that imply that we are
committing a crime against you? Have you any more claim on the chest
that you mention than we have?"
"Yes!" shouted the angry Wyckoff. "I am a lineal descendant from the
Spaniards who buried it. It is mine because it is in the family. I don't
know what word you educated Yankees would use, but it is mine because it
belonged to my father's father's father."
"I know," spoke up Arnold; "you mean you have inherited it?"
"Yes, that's it," agreed Wyckoff. "Besides that, you will never be able
to get the treasure.
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