“Who got away? What ye talking about?” asked Moses.
“The last one, of course,” said Jimmy. “We counted nine of those hen coops. Some fellow must have buried the last one, mustn’t he? We didn’t find any traces of him anywhere, so I reckon when there wa’n’t anybody left to look after, he got away, and mebby lived to get somewhere. I hope so.”
“Then he probably took the treasure with him, if there was any?” asked Mose, who was still cherishing visions.
Jimmy stared at him. “Oh, dod rot you and your treasure,” he said, roughly. “I mean—of course, he took it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Sure—of course,” said Mose. But this view of the case was a great blow to his fancies, and they rowed down to camp almost in silence.
When they got back to the ark, Moses was full of their discovery, and told the men about the galley and the marks on the trees, and discussed the possibility of treasure. But Jimmy drew Marion aside to propose a very different idea.
“Mack,” he said, abruptly, “I want to take one of the skiffs and go to Natchez.”
Marion lifted his head sharply. “What for?” he asked. He was the color of clay, and staggered as he stood. “What for?” he repeated, sharply.
“I’m afraid I’ll lose my head if I don’t go,” answered Jimmy.
“Your head, man? What’s the matter with you? Are you sick, too?”