“Yes; it’s hid again the myrtle tree.”
“I clean forgot till this mornin’, and then when you wuz talkin’ about pirate hoards I thought of it.”
“I never thought of it till now,” said Tom, passing his hand across his forehead in an anguished way. “Seein’ that—that—you know the thing we ain’t got to talk about must a sent me ratty.”
“What are you goin’ to do about it?” asked Dave.
“I dunno,” replied Tom, doubtfully; “onless we go back there by night an’ dig it up.”
Dave shuddered.
“I wouldn’t go near that place at night,” he said; “not for all the money in Australia.”
“Neither would I,” said Tom, “but I’d go an’ get it in the daylight.”
“We can’t go nosing round there in the daytime,” remarked Dave; “we might get ketched.”
“Well, if we don’t go an’ get it soon,” pronounced Tom, “it won’t be there long. That cove won’t leave it there. Soon as he’s ready to git away, he’ll go an’ dig it up. An’ he won’t stay round no longer than he kin help, you take yor oath.”