Tom and his cousin were in no hurry to obey this peremptory summons. They did not know what they might find back there in the bushes. Their faces turned white, and the hands with which they pushed the cartridges into their guns trembled visibly.
“Are you coming?” cried Ralph, impatiently.
“What have you found?” Loren managed to ask, in reply.
“Something that will make you open your eyes,” was the answer. “But it won’t hurt you. Why don’t you come on?”
These reassuring words brought Tom and Loren to their feet and took them into the evergreens; but it was not without fear and trembling that they slowly worked their way toward the place from which Ralph’s voice sounded, nor did they neglect to hold themselves in readiness to take to their heels the instant they saw any thing alarming. They reached Ralph’s side at last, and were astonished beyond measure to find him holding a Victoria gun-case in one hand and an elegant double-barrel hammerless in the other. As they came up he raised the hand that held the case, directing their attention to a finely finished Winchester rifle that rested against a log near by.
“What’s the meaning of this? Where did you find them?” exclaimed Tom, as soon as he had found his tongue.
Before speaking Ralph stepped to the end of the log and pointed to the hollow in it. Then he picked up a bush that appeared to have been lately cut, and laid it across the opening.
“That’s the way it was when I came along here a few minutes ago,” said he. “I stumbled against something, and when I looked to see what it was I found that I had kicked this bush away and exposed the opening. As I was searching for that blackberry-patch, and nothing else, I was about to pass on, when something glittering caught my eye. It was the buckle on this gun-case. That’s my answer to your second question, Tom. In reply to your first, I say: It means that you need have no further trouble with Matt Coyle, and you needn’t ask your father for that money.”
“Do—do you think these are the stolen guns?” stammered Tom.
“Of course they are,” said Loren, confidently. “That one by the log is a Winchester, and I see the name Lefever on this. I tell you, old fellow, you are in luck.”