This was kept up for some time, but shortly after dinner, when they were skimming along just above the surface, the old miner uttered a cry:
“There it is! I’m sure of it!” he exclaimed. “I’m not fooled this time! There’s the rock landmark!”
Indeed, about a mile off was a great pile of stones that bore a strong resemblance to a church. There was even a slender steeple.
“That looks like it,” admitted Jerry, who had again gone to the steering tower. “We’ll drop down there and have a look.”
A nearer view only served to confirm Mr. Brill in his belief, and, as they alighted from the airship, he fairly ran to the foot of the great rock, and began looking about.
“I’m pretty sure this is the place,” he said, but the boys noticed that his voice was not as confident as it had been. “We’ll just dig a bit around here,” he went on. “It may be that the rains have washed dirt over the cache.”
“I’ll do the digging,” volunteered Jim Nestor, who had a pick and shovel, and soon he was making the rocks and dirt scatter, while the others looked on eagerly. Mr. Brill seemed a bit puzzled, however, and from time to time gazed off across the valley, as if to make sure this, and none other, was the rock he sought.
Suddenly Bob, who was thinking of returning to the airship for a sandwich, uttered a cry, and pointed to a cliff that towered above their heads—one of the upper boundaries of the valley.
“Look!” he exclaimed. “We’re being spied upon!”
They all glanced to where he pointed, and there, boldly outlined against the sky, they saw a number of figures looking down on them—watching them.