Rios cursed bitterly but moved on. Kendric's hand found
Zoraida's arm and gripped it tightly.
"We're all together in this," he said sharply. "And don't start your
old favorite knife act. This is no time for foolery."
Zoraida moved on. But again she set her whistle to her lips and
thereafter she called out loudly to her men, commanding them to follow
swiftly.
"They won't hear you," said Kendric. "And they couldn't obey you this
time anyhow. Hurry; we'll all stifle if we don't get out of this foul
air. Rios, give me some matches; mine are getting short."
Rios, without comment, having as little love as another for the
uncertainty of the dark about him, did as he was commanded. He also
saved half of his box and began striking them himself. And thus they
went on, all of them save Kendric wondering. Making the last, steepest
descent, they stood huddled together in the treasure chamber.
"Here," said Kendric, releasing Zoraida, "we have fresh air. Here we
can talk. And, if we are sensible people, a new day can begin for all
of us here."
Ruiz Rios's wound must have been even less severe than Kendric had
supposed it. For now the Mexican seemed utterly to have lost
consciousness of it. He was striking fresh matches; he stooped and
picked up something at his foot; a little gasp broke from him. He
tossed it down, caught up something else.
"Gold!" he muttered.
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