“I have been thinking about it all the time,” answered Tom. “And I couldn’t think of any place in the house that had not been looked into except these ashes, so I began to poke into them. At the second jab I made, out came the pocket-book.”
I looked around until I found a chair, and then seated myself to examine the pocket-book; for you will remember that we had taken a long ride, and we did not want to take another with the same object in view. The papers were all folded neatly away, and as I opened the first one I came to, my eyes caught the words: “In the name of God, Amen.” That was the will, and it was all right. I looked at the conclusion, and there were the names of all of us as witnesses. The next paper I opened was a letter of instructions to Bob, and told him how to carry on his business if he wanted to make a success of it.
“I don’t want to look any further,” I said, folding up the papers. “Tom, you’ve got it as sure as the world.”
Tom did not make any reply at once. He went out on the porch and all around the ranch to make sure that there was no one listening to us.
“Say, Carlos!” he exclaimed, as soon as he came back, “I’ve found the will, and now you have got to take charge of it. If you see anybody coming toward us on the way home, just take out the pocket-book and drop it into the grass, and then when they have gone we’ll come and find it. How does that strike you?”
“That will do,” I replied. “Then we can say that we don’t know where it is, only we’ll have to keep a close watch of landmarks to find the place where we hid it. I wish I had your luck.”
“I wish you had too,” replied Tom, with a smile. “I notice that everybody is poking fun at me on account of it, but I tell you sometimes it comes handy. Now, if you will go out and cook breakfast I’ll put everything back as I found it.”
The breakfast didn’t amount to much, for we were anxious to begin our homeward journey to see what effect the result of our search would have upon Bob. There was not one man in ten, who knew what we were going to the ranch for, who would have predicted our success, and we were equally anxious to hear what Lem and Frank would have to say about it. I heard Tom strike up a lively whistle in the ranch while I was gathering wood for the fire, and in a few minutes he came out.
“Say!” he exclaimed. “What will you bet that Henderson isn’t getting a good going over by this time?”
“I am quite sure he is,” said I. “You know Pete said he didn’t believe Mr. Davenport had another pocket-book, and Coyote Bill agreed with him. But we knew a story worth two of that!”