They decided that one of them should remain close to the clearing throughout the day to make certain the plane would not be missed. Selecting a fairly level place where the packages of food might be parachuted down, Jack laid out a bright-colored cloth as a signal.
In the meantime Warner, Mr. Livingston, and Ken set off to try to find the gold caches. At noon they returned, tired, hungry, and discouraged.
“No luck,” Ken reported, “but we did find a grave on a hillside not far from the lake.”
“My father’s,” Craig Warner said. “There was a marker with his name.”
“An odd thing,” Mr. Livingston contributed. “Ferns and flowers have been planted beside the grave.”
“Recently too,” added Ken. “At least, the earth around them has been loosened recently.”
Warner gazed toward the distant mountains, glistening in the bright sunlight. “This trip has already been worth while for me,” he said. “The gold doesn’t matter.”
“But there is gold!” Jack insisted. “At least, when I was at the lake I saw particles of it that had washed down from the hills. And I found a sluice box someone had been using.”
“Our unknown enemy, probably,” Warner said. “He didn’t show himself while we were gone?”
“No one.”