“We will get ready,” Corso interrupted.
“Well, I say, where does this Burnam come in?” Jim asked.
“He was employed to do some task for one of our people and he suspected that somewhere great wealth must be stored. He saw me once in my father’s house. When his work was done, he was paid and dismissed, and taken away, so that he could not find the place again, but he came upon my uncle and myself on your western coast. He believes that I know the secret and tried twice to kidnap me, but he has failed each time, and he will fail again, for it is written in the forecasts that I shall live to a great age and that my enemies shall perish. One day you found a box, it held knotted strings. Long before writing, or signs, tribes made their records by that method, I know the language of the knots in the colored strings.”
“Why, I’ve read of that, learned it in school, old language,” Bob exclaimed with enthusiasm.
XII
DETECTIVES
“I say, what a pair of nuts we are. We don’t know that boy’s name.” Jim, who was in the passenger seat beside his step-brother, made the announcement with disgust. Bob made a grimace.
“We do take first prize. Do you think that pair are batty?”
“Not as batty as some of the rest of us,” Jim declared emphatically.
“That’s what I think. I say, let’s not do any talking about them. You know, sometimes a little thing starts things and evidently this Burnam bird isn’t letting any grass grow under his feet.”
“That’s a first-rate idea.” They had just left Corso and his nephew in one of the small towns in the northern part of New York state, and the couple had taken a train south. Now the boys were about ready to return to North Hero.