“You’ve found something,” added Roy, almost catching his breath.
“This was the first Mormon Bible I ever saw,” said Mr. Cook, pushing the supper things aside, and bringing a lamp to the dining table. “Several times in your absence, I’ve amused myself looking it over. A very curious religion,” he added, as he drew up a chair and motioned Roy to do the same. “You saw the notes on the back flyleaf didn’t you?” he asked, turning to Roy.
The boy flushed with chagrin. He had not. Nor had he looked at the book since his first cursory examination of it.
Hanging over Mr. Cook’s shoulder, he watched the manager turn to the back of the book and finally expose a yellow edged page. In ink that had turned to a faint brown, the boy read, at the top of the page, these words:
“Deseret Alphabet.”
Beneath it, in a fine, close hand, were two columns of characters. Manifestly, it was the Mormon phonetic alphabet. After each odd character, the sound was indicated with a syllable in English.
“That’s it,” shouted Roy, almost snatching the book from Mr. Cook’s hand. “Those are the letters on Mr. Weston’s paper. Here, see,” he added nervously catching up the paper and confirming his theory. “They’re the same. We found it. Sink’s found his treasure.”
“One moment,” interrupted the less exuberant Mr. Cook. “Let’s see what we can make of it.”
“We’ve got to make something,” insisted the boy, impulsively. “It has to work out. The man who wrote on Mr. Weston’s paper was my great uncle. He helped to make this alphabet. I know that. That’s what the Banks’ history says.”
“Then I reckon we’ve got it,” answered Mr. Cook. He began to read off the characters with their equivalents in English.