“They’re hidin’ the money there,” whispered Tom in Dave’s ear.
He could hardly speak for excitement.
Dave was trembling like a top-heavy jelly in the hands of a hurrying waiter.
“What will we do if they see us?” he asked.
“Run,” replied Tom. “Them coves wouldn’t think twice about cuttin’ our throats. The German cove’s got a knife in ’is belt. Keep quiet!”
The admonition was unnecessary. Dave was devoting all his energies to keeping quiet. His whole soul was in it.
The robbers took some time to hide their booty. Tom and Dave could see that the foreigner was holding the lantern against the trunk of the tree, shading it with his body on one side and concentrating the light as much as possible on his companion, who knelt down, and was carefully covering the bag over with loose soil and leaves.
The faces of both men were towards them.
Suddenly they saw the Frenchman, acting, perhaps, on some swift murderous impulse, draw his knife and plunge it to the hilt in his accomplice’s back!
The latter, uttering a choking cry, fell forward. The light went out. The bush was in darkness. The boys clung to each other in a convulsion of fear and horror!