“This man Josiah Trumbull stole the two first. This Josiah is a crook. He lived with Uncle David for a time, trying to worm his secret out of him, but did not succeed. Then he salted a mine and sold it to a friend of David’s for $50,000, and got out of the country, with the officers close behind him. That’s the $50,000 Don took when he stole the handbag to get the papers.”
“And you don’t know where this location is?”
“No more than a rabbit! We think it is near where Uncle lived, but we’ll find out when we get the third paper. That gives the clue to it all.”
“Who put it in the old house where we are going to look for it?”
“A paper in Trumbull’s bag located it there, that’s all I know. Don was to get it when he reached Yuma, but King was too hot after him. The boy will be glad to know that we unearthed it—if we do.”
“It seems to me to be about as clear as mud!” Clay exclaimed, and you’ll have to tell me about it at some other time. Do you see the old house by the river yet? We have been quite a time on the way.”
“It is there,” answered Tom, pointing. “You can see the roof from here. It is an old derelict, formerly occupied, ages ago, by Uncle David, now mostly given over to rats. I stood here a long time before I saw your boat and heard your voices, wondering if I had the courage to go in there alone without a gun or a light. I found that I hadn’t, and so went scouting along the river, looking for you.”
“Rats!” repeated Clay. “You say the old house is mostly given over to rats? Is that what you said a moment ago?”
“It surely is,” replied Tom. “Rats own the place now.”
“Must be a peculiar kind of rats that carry a lantern,” Clay observed. “If you look you’ll see a light passing from window to window.”