"Maybe its entrance is under water," suggested Glen. "That Indian dived, you see, and we didn't see a sign of him again until he came back."
"That's the way of it, Glen. And that's the same Indian told us to look for heap rock. I believe—" it was the romantic side of Apple now appearing—"I believe he is the tribal guardian of the treasure and he stays around here to guard it from our search."
"Maybe so," agreed Glen. "Anyway if the treasure's there we'll soon know it. You think you can keep in your head the exact location where he dived?"
"Yes. It's just at the bend of the Ice Box. Right opposite on the other bank are those two old stumps—"
"Hold on," shouted Glen excitedly, seized with a great idea. "I'll bet you those are the stumps of elm trees—the Twin Elms."
"You're right, Glen. I'm sure you're right. I can hardly wait to find out."
"We don't want all the camp following us into this. When will be the best time to hunt for it?"
"What's the matter with right now?" suggested Apple. "It's only a little after five. Breakfast won't be called until eight. Father won't care where we go so long as we get to camp in time for breakfast."
"But the Indian! What will he be doing while we explore his cave?"
"He won't be there. He hiked through the timber, and he's less likely to be there now than he would be later on in the day."