In less than two seconds Tom and I were by Elam's side. Cautioning us not to go too far so as to disturb things, he plainly pointed out to us the marks of a person's figure on the leaves. Some of the bushes had been broken down, and the leaves had blown over where he lay, but by carefully brushing these aside the impress of a person's form could be seen. There was no doubt about it, and I told Elam so in a way that made him all right again.
"Where do you suppose that fellow is now?" said Tom.
"I don't know," said Elam. "My impression is that he died."
"But he wouldn't have given this map to a man when he knew it to be wrong, would he?"
"I tell you that there's a heap of things connected with this nugget that we shall never find out. We are on the right trail yet. I tell you I feel encouraged."
We all did for that matter, and every day we searched both sides of the stream to find that man's camping place, and when we found it we would call the others up; but one day Tom came into camp, and his face was full of news.
"I don't want to raise any false hopes," said he, "but if I have not found something I will give it up. It's on the left-hand side of the creek. In the first place there were four stones laid up the bank, and the bush at whose foot they lay had been broken down and leaned away from the bank. And further than that, it was held in position by two of the branches, which were firmly tied about it."
"Tom, I believe you have found it," said I.
"It is too far away to find it before dark, but I will go there the first thing in the morning," continued Tom, who was so excited that he could scarcely speak plainly. "We want to take along our picks and shovels, too."
We both glanced at Elam, but he didn't say anything. He was lying back on his blanket, with his pipe between his teeth and his hands under his head. He smiled all over, but said nothing.