Bob’s shout drew the attention of all his comrades to what he indicated, and at the words “treasure chest” a curious look came over the face of Tinny Mallison.
“What’s that?” he exclaimed, as if he did not want to believe. “The treasure chest? Impossible!”
“Well, what is it then?” asked Bob, and he could not keep a note of triumph out of his voice. “If that isn’t a strong box for gold I’ll eat my hat.”
Tinny Mallison was again going to say “impossible,” but as he brushed the dust and dirt from his eyes and saw more clearly he began to believe that, after all, there might be more than a dream to this strange story.
“Bill, is that the kind of chest in which the gold went down the gulch with the stage coach and horses?” asked Jerry, as they moved cautiously toward the object amid the blue rocks.
They walked with care as they did not want to start another landslide. But the shifting of the mountain seemed to have ceased, at least for the time being.
“That’s the same kind of a chest they used to carry on the stage coaches years ago,” affirmed Bill. “Of course, I can’t say that this is the same one that went over into the gulch, but——”
“We’ll soon make sure!” cried Ned.
“Careful!” cautioned Tinny, as he saw the boys making their way over the torn ground toward the object of such intense interest. “Don’t take another coast down the mountain.”
They soon found, however, that the shift of earth, rocks, trees and bushes, brought about by the great amount of rain which had fallen, was, for a time at least, over. Though there was no path to follow and though they had to scramble over tree trunks, uprooted bushes, great masses of earth and jagged rocks, they managed to reach the place where the wooden chest was partly imbedded in the débris.