As the sun was sinking farther and farther into the west, as the long, last, struggling rays which it threw out upon the world were cast across the rippling current of the Harrapin River, Frank and Lanky, piece by piece, told what they had seen at the arbor and what they had seen in the loft of the old barn.
The three listeners sat with mouths open, their eyes bulging, listening to this tale as children do to the wonders of princes and princesses and giants and kings in fairy tales.
“And all the Parsons’ stuff is in that chest?” Paul asked the question.
“I don’t think it is. I think all the silverware and such heavy pieces as they stole downstairs in the dining room are in that chest, but I believe the jewels which they got upstairs in her safe are in that metal box which is buried.”
“Why do you suppose he buried it?” again Paul queried.
“Hump——”
“Do you think he was putting it there so that no one would find it in case they were discovered?”
“I certainly do not!” spoke up Lanky Wallace.
“And I’ll bet Frank agrees with me, too! I believe that fellow was double-crossing his partners—that’s what I think! I believe he put that box of jewels, which is the easiest of all things to get off with, away in a safe place so that he could come back himself some of these days and get it—after his pals are in jail or away from this part of the country.”
“But, suppose Jed goes to jail?” asked Paul.