Part 36 (2/2)

”The diggings will keep till the time's ripe,” I said, a.s.suming the paternalism forced on me.

”Hurrah for the gold mine!” teased Ray, keeping a wary eye on Grant Norris.

We were soon in the path, and presently scaled the cliff on Duran's contraption. We coiled the halliard under the brush on the cliff-top, as Duran had left it, and picked our way to the cavern entry-hall. A flash from my electric lamp revealed that all the gold-laden bamboo cylinders were gone from that niche, where we had seen them.

”I hope to Heaven our fellows saw what he did with that stuff,” prayed Norris, when we had crawled out through the curtain of water into that outer world again.

”Trust Bob for that,” I a.s.sured him. ”He'll have the place spotted if he's had half a chance.”

Everything was s.h.i.+p-shape in the camp-place amongst the brush. There was food in plenty, and though it was late, I was glad to round out my breakfast with some fruit and a nibble of cheese. We had nothing to do but to rest until the return of our comrades. And that event we were not to expect until some time between sunset and morning, for we had already seen that it was by night, by preference, that Duran traveled to and from that secret vale behind the cliffs.

It was a long and irksome time of waiting that day and night, for a good share of the night had pa.s.sed ere they had come. Even now, so long since that time, I yawn to think of it. And I am thinking that I can do no better, to cover that s.p.a.ce, than tell how our friends employed the time, while they were gone down Crow Bay.

It was soon after nightfall, Carlos--on the lookout--had heard Duran splas.h.i.+ng in the creek, below the cascade, and he made out the ill-defined form of him as he moved away down the path in the murk.

Carlos hurried over to the nook in the brush and made his report.

Duran's coming, of course, was expected--though he seemed a trifle early--and the plan of procedure had already been outlined. Grant Norris set off at once to again achieve that pa.s.sage through the grotto and join Ray, who lingered at the cliff-top, where he had witnessed Duran's pa.s.sage. Captain Jean Marat, Robert, and Carlos prepared to follow on Duran's trail.

But there was a circ.u.mstance troubled Carlos, and he had a word to say.

”Duran, he walk ver' light, an' it seem' he keep ver' straight,” he began. ”I think he do not carry anything.”

”Let's go see!” said Robert.

And he and Carlos hastened into the cavern, where Robert threw his flashlight on the scene. There was that stack of gold-filled sections of bamboo, quite of the same size as they had seen it hardly more than two hours before. And more--on the floor of the cavern lay a canvas pack, with its leather straps.

”He hasn't taken a thing!” broke out Robert.

And the two hurried out to where Marat stood waiting on the stream's bank.

Robert gave him the news.

”Ah!” said Marat. ”He go for help to carry thee big load away.”

But Robert's mind was full of another idea, and he said, ”Captain Marat, suppose you and Carlos go and see if you can see anything of him out in the bay. I'll stay here. And if you see him going off in the canoe, send Carlos after me. If you don't see him, wait for me.”

”Ver' well,” said Marat.

And the two set off in the murk. They moved rapidly, alternately trotting and walking, intent on covering as much of the s.p.a.ce between them and Duran as might be. And as they went, Marat--and Carlos as well--began to have an inkling of the thought that was in Robert's mind.

When they got to the water they quickly satisfied themselves that Duran's st.u.r.dy little canoe was gone from its place. Soon they were in the skiff and out on the bay. Swiftly they moved down the sh.o.r.e, looking over their shoulders now and again, for the sight of some dark object on the quiet surface of the water. They had hardly gone a mile when they rested on their oars, and took one good long look down the bay. Nothing showed.

Robert, in the meantime, squatted on the bank of the creek, and waited patiently for perhaps two hours. A tree-toad trilled out, now and then, to mingle his song with the music of the nearby cascade. The tree-tops hung over the stream with never a rustle, for the night breeze had not yet risen.

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