"Well," continued Mr. Grigsby, "if I'm around you can count on me. And there'll be other men who won't be inclined to stand for skullduggery. The diggin's will be put under law and order, after a bit, or else no man's life or property will be safe for a day. But until then, look out, and keep looking out."
"We will," assured Mr. Adams, nodding confidently at Charley, who soberly nodded back.
"And if I were you," added the Frémonter, "I'd tuck those papers in a safe place. Wouldn't leave them around anywhere. See?"
"I've been carrying them on my own person," explained Mr. Adams.
"The very place where anybody wanting them by hook or crook would look first," said the Frémonter.
"Humph!" admitted Mr. Adams. "That's probably so." He looked about thoughtfully. "But I don't know of a better place—'twouldn't do to stick them anywhere in the cabin, or the baggage. Here!" he exclaimed, struck with an idea. "What's the matter with Charley! Nobody would suspect that a boy was in charge of valuables. Charley, you take these and tuck them away on you where they'll be safe."
"Put them in your shoe—or in your bootleg when you wear boots," instructed Mr. Grigsby.
"What about night?" asked Charley.
"I'll tend to the nights," grimly said the Frémonter. "You might change them to your pillow, nights, and they wouldn't be any safer and you'd be apt to forget them. But my cot will be across the doorway, nights, and I in it."
"Very good," approved Mr. Adams. And so Charley carried the papers in his shoe.