“Exactly!” cried Mr. Snodgrass. “And it’s the flood that took away the sixty nuggets—not the grub-stakers!”
“A flood!” cried Jerry.
“Yes,” went on Uriah Snodgrass. “The gold was washed out of the pocket by a rush of water. There have been heavy rains since Mr. Brill hid the nuggets. Or there may have been a cloud-burst, or even an underground river may have burst to the surface after the landslide. Whatever happened, the gold has been washed away, but the canvas sack caught under a rock and was held.”
“But where is the gold now?” demanded Ned, with hope in his voice.
“Scattered along the track taken by the flood,” answered the scientist. “Look, you can see which way it washed,” and, now that their attention was called to it, they could all see traces of the flood. There were riffles in the heavy sand, bits of driftwood, and marks on the stones that showed how high the water had risen. It had swept on down the valley.
“We’ll have to follow the track left by the flood,” exclaimed the professor, “and we may find the gold that way.”
“Good!” cried Ned. “Then everything isn’t lost yet.”
“Not by a jugful!” exclaimed Jerry. “We may get the gold yet.”
Eagerly they began their search, but it was soon seen that it was not going to be an easy task. For, a little way from the big rock that marked the location of the pocket, they came to a wild and desolate part of the valley, where great stones lay piled loosely one on the other, ready to topple over at the least disturbance.
“We’ve got to be careful,” warned Jerry. “We may be caught under some of those boulders.”