Don, exploring the belt, brought out two slips of paper, read them over hastily, and crushed them back into the secure cavity again.
Alex did not ask what the quick action meant, for he was busy with the gold notes. He had never before seen so much money at one time in his life. It seemed to him that all the wealth of the world lay exposed on the hot sand at his feet. Don regarded it carelessly.
Presently Alex took the notes into his hands and began counting them. He placed them in little heaps, then he laid them along the sand, end to end. He was interrupted in the midst of this fascinating employment by a low cry from Don.
“What is it he asked?” gathering the money up in one heap, preparatory to concealing it. “Some one coming?”
“Some one peered over that sand dune,” Don answered. “I saw eyes like a snake’s feasting on the money! I shouldn’t have taken it out in an exposed place like this. What shall I do with it?”
Alex’s resourceful mind was not long in finding a way.
“Grab it up,” he directed. “Make as if you were putting it back in the belt, but pass it to me, with the silk, and I’ll bury it in the sand. Here, put plenty of sand in the belt, so it will look like it was still full of money. Now, put it on! Turn so any one watching us will see you doing it. They’ll think you're hiding the money in the belt again, but we’ll fool ’em!”
Don did as directed by the quick-witted lad, and then Alex started away toward the river, walking as if he had no idea that there was any one in the world besides himself and friend. He smiled as he turned to his companion, whose eyes were fixed intently on the location of the silk covering which held the treasury notes.
“Think I’m going to cut and run with the mazuma?” he asked, following the other’s gaze back to his own wet clothing.
“Why—why—of course not,” faltered the other. “Why should you?”