Frank's business was to cut wood enough to keep the fire burning all night, and although he appeared to work industriously, he spent more than half his time in watching his cousin's movements.
He saw him take his saddle-bags from his horse, lift up the flap that covered one of the pockets and thrust his hand into the bag.
Then he placed the bags upon the ground near the spot on which the fire was to be built, and piled his saddle, blankets, and overcoat upon them, taking care to arrange all the articles in such a position that he could tell at a glance if any of them had been disturbed.
"He has done that every noon and night for the last week," soliloquized Frank, "and now I am satisfied that the money is in those saddle-bags. Mine look exactly like his, and if I see a chance I'll exchange with him and leave. I am sure I could find my way back to that emigrant's camp, and perhaps I could induce him to let me ride in his wagon as far as St. Joe."
The supper, consisting of bacon and crackers which Leon had purchased at one of the mail stations, was ready in due time, and when it had been disposed of the travellers lay down beside the fire—Eben on his soldier's overcoat and the boys on their blankets—and talked themselves to sleep—that is, Leon and the hunter went to sleep, but Frank kept wide awake. He had no intention of closing his eyes that night.
Before lying down, Leon had placed his saddle-bags across his saddle in the same position they occupied when he was on horseback, and the pocket which contained the money was under his shoulders, while his head rested in the hollow of the saddle, which he used as a pillow.
These precautions almost disheartened Frank, who, for six long hours, lay there, within easy reach of his cousin, revolving in his mind various plans for obtaining possession of the coveted treasure.
Two or three times he reached out his hand and tried to pull the saddle-bags from under Leon's shoulders, but every time he did so Leon stirred in his sleep, and Frank was obliged to desist.