tially in and he made a careful search, lighting several matches.
Then he crawled out, shaking his head.

"Empty is the cradle," he said. "There's only a few flakes of gold and
you can see the place where the box has stood."

I crawled in next. Sure enough, there was the tarnished place on the
rock where it had stood for centuries perhaps. In feeling around my hand
touched a small bit of folded bark. Without thinking much about it I
picked it up and put it in my pocket.

Tom stayed in the treasure hollow so long that we had to yank him out by
the feet.

"He is the chief mourner," commented Jim.

"Look out, boys," yelled Juarez, "big stone coming."

Like a great cannon ball it was bounding down the rock towards us. We
jumped aside just in time and it smacked between us.

"A considerably narrow escape," mused Jim.

"The old witch up there is offended," said Juarez. "I saw a genie fly
out when you sent off that blast."

"I think the explosion loosened the rock, Juarez," said Jim. There were
the two views. We went back to the boat with more experience but no
treasure.

CHAPTER XXIX

A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE

That evening as we sat on the bank above we talked over our experience
of the day. Then I bethought myself of the piece of folded bark and
pulled it out of my pocket.

"Here's something that I picked up in the rock hollow," I remarked.

Jim seized it eagerly and Juarez watched its unfolding with the keenest
interest. The word "bark" is only a rough term to describe it. The
document was really made of some sort of pulp, whether of wood or cacti
I could not say.

When it was spread out, the paper was 12x12 inches. There was a curious
drawing in the center with words written in Spanish, and in one corner
was the representation of a mountain.

"That's a diagram," commented Jim, "but I cannot make much out of it,
can you, Juarez?"

"I see somethings," announced Juarez. "That mountain is in Mexico. But
the lines I do not understand, but we shall see when we go down there."

"It is the key to the whereabouts of the treasure box," announced Tom,
"that drawing is. Only we have got to get someone who reads Spanish to
translate it. Let me keep it?"

"No," said Jim, decisively. "Jo found it and he can take care of it."

"Hold on," suggested Tom. "Let's make a copy of it for each one of us."

"That's the idea," I acceded. "Who is the best artist?"

"Let Juarez try his hand at it," said Jim, "he's the