This seemed so natural to Edwin he never doubted it was true. There were the spades, just like the two he had seen in the whare.
"Oh yes," he answered, "I can find the place. I saw the trees only yesterday."
"Nga-Hepé sent you a charge," added Lawford, "to mind and keep a still tongue; for if it gets air whilst he's gone for the food, there will be such a crowd waiting for the return of the canoe, it would be eaten up at a single meal, and his own children would be starving again."
"I shall not speak," retorted Edwin. "Nga-Hepé may safely trust me."
They reached the road at last, and made their way along it as before, until they came to the two tall tapering trunks—not quite so easily identified now they had lost their foliage.
"This is the spot!" cried Edwin, slipping off the horse, and receiving a descent of mud upon his shoulders as he struck the dirt-laden tree.
Lawford gave him the spades he was carrying, and got down. They tied Beauty at a safe distance, and set to work. It was comparatively easy digging through the crust, but when they reached the soft mud beneath it, as soon as they cleared a hole it filled again.
Their task seemed endless. "I don't believe we can get at the money," said Edwin, in despair. "I must go on and see if Mr. Hirpington has returned, for I want to get back to father."
"All right," answered Lawford. "Leave me at the work. A boy like you soon tires. Take your horse and ride down to the ford; but mind you do not say anything about me."
"You need not fear that," repeated Edwin, as he extricated himself from the slime-pit they had opened, and mounted Beauty. It was not very far to the ford, but he found it as he had left it—desolate and deserted. No one had been near it since yesterday, when he visited it with Ottley. The good old forder neighed a welcome, and came trotting up from the river-bank to greet him. He pulled out more hay to feed both horses, and whilst they were eating he examined the house.