Alas! there was unfortunately little to create excitement. Farm products—potatoes—bacon—several suits of clothes—old pipes—several tools—pieces of chain—bottles that once had held liquor—even an old straw hat; but of treasure that could create even a moment's excitement there seemed to be none.
"I know who brought this collection here," said Apple. "The Indian! It's his treasure house all right, and that's why he went in here that morning."
"That's all right," said Tom Scoresby, "but there ought to be a lot of real treasure around here. If no bullion, anyway there ought to be the bank robber's stuff."
But all their searching was of no avail. When they returned through the narrow opening they went empty handed.
Waiting on the bank with the younger boys was Matt Burton. He had not been allowed to enter the cave for fear that the swim under water might infect his wound. He was greatly disappointed at their failure and, since characteristics do not change over night, it is not surprising that he had a very strong opinion that if their party had been increased by just one member the result would have been different. Let this be said of Matt—he tried to conceal this feeling.
"Where d'ye look, Brick?" he asked.
"We explored every ledge and went into places that grown men couldn't have squeezed through."
"Did you dig?"
"There isn't much chance to dig. The inside of the cave is a shale that no one could dig into. It would have to be blasted."
"Then there must have been some holes or something—oh, say, did you lift up that shelf of rock we lay on that night?"