“My!” said Tommie again, her eyes glittering as she gathered the things together carefully, spread the sack cloth and put them out.
She brooded on them without another word, picking them up one by one, trying the rings on, holding up the necklace for all to admire, even the Chinks, who had drawn close and who seemed to understand that these were the things for which they had been digging.
Then she put the lot on for fun, the tiara that nearly came over her ears, the necklace that nearly came down to her waist, the rings that hung loose on her fingers. Then, making a fan out of an old piece of paper, she got up and promenaded the sands, gathering up imaginary skirts and looking disdain upon her recent friends, till even the Chinks laughed.
Then, all at once, she quitted fooling, became preternaturally grave and, sitting down again, did the things up in the sack-cloth and oil skin.
George thought that she heaved a sigh as she tied the string. Hank noticed that she made a reef knot with her capable fingers and the fact gave him another little heart punch.
“They’re worth a lot,” said George.
“Thousands and thousands of dollars,” said Tommie. “Here, take them and hide them somewhere safe.”
Hank took the bundle. “I’m going to take them right aboard,” declared he, “and shove them in the locker with the ship’s money. I won’t trust them another minute on this beach.”
“Why, don’t be a fool,” said George, “we’ll all be going aboard when Candon comes, we’ve done our work here.”