Such were Joe’s words, as he gazed around the looted cabin. Yes, every small article of value was gone, including the knives and spoons, the trinkets belonging to the girls, and Mrs. Parsons’ sewing outfit.
“Even the fishing poles are gone—and those new hooks I got last week,” said Harry.
“They took that old Dutch pistol, too,” added Joe. “I hope it bursts to pieces the first time they try to use it,” he went on bitterly.
“Do you suppose they found the money?”
“I don’t know. We can soon see.”
Between them Mr. Winship and Mr. Parsons had had about thirty pounds—a hundred and fifty dollars—in cash. Before leaving to hunt up the Indians they had placed this money in an earthen jar and secreted it under the flooring of one of the bedrooms. Without delay the boys ran into the bedroom and pulled up the puncheon log under which the jar had been hidden.
“It is gone!” came from Joe’s lips.
“Gone?” groaned his chum. “Are you certain?”
“Of course I am. Here is the very spot where the jar rested in the ground.”
“Perhaps my mother took up the jar before she left the cabin.”