He placed his ear to the stone and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness beyond, and gently but firmly he pushed on one end of the stone. It was frozen fast, but at last came away, letting down a small shower of snow.
“Covered with snow, eh?” he murmured to himself. “So much the better. They ain’t found it, an’ more’n likely they don’t know a thing about it.”
With extreme caution he continued to push upon the stone, until he had raised up one end a foot or more. Beyond, he now discovered a drift of snow, covered with an icy crust. All he had to do was to clear away the snow, break the crust, and step out into the open, less than ten feet away from the door to the storehouse and stable.
Not deeming it wise to go further in the daylight, Barringford allowed the stone to drop into place once more, and wormed his way back to the hollow tree. The others were anxiously awaiting his return.
“What did you find?” asked Henry.
“We can git in that way, if we want to,” answered the old frontiersman, and related the particulars.
Dave was for entering the post at once, but Joseph Morris shook his head, and Barringford did the same.
“We had better wait until nightfall,” said the planter, “and in the meantime perhaps we can throw Jean Bevoir off his guard.”
“Let us pretend to go away,” said Henry. “Have a talk with him, and say you will come back with a company of regulars from Fort Pitt.”
This was considered a good suggestion, and a little later Joseph Morris walked again into the open, waving his white handkerchief. At first nobody paid attention to him. Then Bevoir showed himself once more.