Everybody noticed the change in Kenyon’s voice, and all looked at him as if for an explanation. Conscious of his seeming self-betrayal and of the inquiring glances directed at him, he blushed with confusion. The aviator suspected at once that these were signs of guilt.
But Hal knew better and flashed back a look of scorn and indignation at his silent accusers. Recovering his natural tone, he said in a cool, measured voice:
“I don’t know what became of those nuggets. They certainly were not in the bag when I opened it.”
Most of the boys believed in Hal and were convinced by this sturdy statement. Mr. Miles, however, was not convinced, although he did not like to hold any suspicion against a boy who had impressed him so well. But he saw nothing to be gained by embarrassing Kenyon at present.
“Well,” he said; “this isn’t the only mystery connected with the affair. I’m just as curious to know how the bag ever got into that cave.”
“You think somebody put it there?” Hal inquired.
“Being an invalid and unable to get around very conveniently, I haven’t been able to inspect the place yet. But from all descriptions received, I’m in need of more evidence to convince me that it bounced in there by accident. In the first place, I’m dead certain it fell to the ground with the aeroplane.”
“Maybe the strut it was tied to was what broke and made you fall,” suggested Hal.
“It wasn’t a strut at all that broke. It was a couple of stay wires. The struts couldn’t break under any but the most extraordinary circumstances.”
“Are you goin’ to fix up your aeroplane again, or get a new one?” asked Hugh Messinger.