“I guess it’s no use,” he groaned. “They are gone! I’ll never see them again! And that claim is gone, too!”
“Oh, don’t give up yet!” cried Chet, trying to cheer him up. “If we can’t locate them tonight, we’ll do it in the morning when the sun shines. They must be somewhere around. They made quite a package, with a rubber band around it, and such a package can’t vanish completely.”
To this Andy could only answer with a sigh. He doubted very much if the precious documents would ever come to light again.
Utterly fagged out, the boys turned their backs on the wind and made their way to Professor Jeffer’s cabin. Here they found the others anxiously awaiting their return.
“What luck?” sang out Barwell Dawson.
“None,” answered Andy, and dropped into a chair as tired out as he was disheartened.
“You’ll have to go out in the morning.”
“Just what I said,” came from Chet. “Oh, we’ll get those papers back, don’t worry.” But although he spoke thus lightly, it was only to cheer his chum up. He, too, was afraid the documents were gone forever.
Andy’s sleep was a troubled one. He dreamed that his Uncle Si was after him, and that both had a tussle in the snow over the papers. Then A. Q. Hopton came up with a pitchfork, speared the papers, and bore them off in triumph. He awoke to find Chet shaking him.
“Andy, stop your groaning!” Chet was saying. “You are going on to beat the band!”