Then it was that the blood rushed back to her cheek with a flush of indignation.  Her room was at the end of the passage; there was nothing beyond but a private staircase, long disused, except by herself, as a short cut through the old patio to the garden.  No one else knew of it, and no one else had the right of access to it!  This insolent human intrusion—­as she was satisfied it was now—­overcame her fear, and she glided to the door.  Opening it softly, she could hear the stealthy footsteps descending.  She darted back, threw a shawl over her head and shoulders, and taking the small Derringer pistol which it had always been part of her ostentatious independence to place at her bed-head, she as stealthily followed the intruder.  But the footsteps had died away before she reached the patio, and she saw only the small deserted, grass-grown courtyard, half hidden in shadows, in whose centre stood the fateful and long sealed-up well!  A shudder came over her at again being brought into contact with the cause of her frightful vision, but as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she saw something more real and appalling!  The well was no longer sealed!  Fragments of bricks and boards lay around it!  One end of a rope, coiled around it like a huge snake, descended its foul depths; and as she gazed with staring eyes, the head and shoulders of a man emerged slowly from it!  But it was not the ghostly apparition of last evening, and her terror changed to scorn and indignation as she recognized the face of Starbuck!

Their eyes met; an oath broke from his lips.  He made a movement to spring from the well, but as the girl started back, the pistol held in her hand was discharged aimlessly in the air, and the report echoed throughout the courtyard.  With a curse Starbuck drew back, instantly disappeared in the well, and Polly fell fainting on the steps.  When she came to, her father and Larry were at her side.  They had been alarmed at the report, and had rushed quickly to the patio, but not in time to prevent the escape of Starbuck and his accomplice.  By the time she had recovered her consciousness, they had learned the full extent of that extraordinary revelation which she had so innocently precipitated.  Sobriente’s well had really concealed a rich gold ledge,—­actually tunneled and galleried by him secretly in the past,—­and its only other outlet was an opening in the garden hidden by a stone which turned on a swivel.  Its existence had been unknown to Sobriente’s successor, but was known to the Kanaka who had worked with Sobriente, who fled with his daughter after the murder, but who no doubt was afraid to return and work the mine.  He had imparted the secret to Starbuck, another half-breed, son of a Yankee missionary and Hawaiian wife, who had evidently conceived this plan of seeking Buena Vista with an accomplice, and secretly removing such gold as was still accessible.  The accomplice, afterwards identified by Larry as the wandering tramp, failed