Part 16 (1/2)

Tom thought awhile but did not reply. The boy nearly cried out in eagerness. Oh, if only the man would consent to do this thing!

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”ROBBERS ONCE BURIED A BAG OF GOLD IN THE CAVE”]

The letter he had written to his father would reach Brussels today. His father would send some one to the cave tonight. Then he and Zelie would be free, and Tom captured.

What had Papa Pomme said? Oh, yes! The thief must go to prison!

Suddenly Tom spoke. ”No,” he said. ”I think we shall move on. It might be dangerous to stay in that cave.”

”What!” cried Philippe. ”Are you afraid of the crying of crows?”

”No,” replied the man, ”It is not that. I prefer to spend my nights in cities.”

Philippe's heart sank.

”But, sir,” he said, ”would you let such a chance of gaining wealth escape you? They say that the bag of gold is very large indeed!”

”Then why is it that no one has ever found it before?” asked Tom suspiciously.

”Because,” answered Philippe, ”there is no one with courage enough. One must be brave to spend a night in such a cold, dark place with howling birds all about. That requires courage like yours, sir!”

The man was pleased with the boy's flattery.

”Do you really think that the bag of gold is worth the trouble?” he asked.

”Worth it!” exclaimed Philippe. ”Why, sir, it will make you rich!”

Now, Tom, like most wicked men, was ignorant. He had never gone to school and he could not even read. Though he was sharp and quick, he had no learning and he was not very shrewd. He believed the boy's story.

Philippe had seemed to know a great deal about the country. The lad had told many true stories. He had shown his knowledge on any number of occasions. Besides, Tom was so greedy that he could not bear to let a chance like this go by.

Of course, Tom knew that this was only a belief. But then, there had been robbers everywhere at one time, and they might easily have buried their treasure in this mysterious cave.

”Very well,” he said, ”we shall spend the night in the Cave of the Crows!”

Chapter XIV

TROMPKE TALKS

It was a weird place to which Philippe led his little party. Crows, descendants of the poet and the fairy, flew all about. The noise they made was deafening.

Philippe was in a state of great excitement; and the screeching and yelling of the thousands of birds made his head whirl.

As night came, however, the crows grew quieter. The little group settled itself to rest.

The man said, ”This is your doing, boy. If there is no bag of gold in the morning I shall make your head feel like a bag of gold!”

He smiled, but Philippe saw a wicked gleam in his eye.