“Yes,” replied Don, mournfully, “and I guess he buried it so deep that no one will ever be able to dig it up!”
“Anyway, you two boys have shown the proper spirit,” Case said, “and that ought to count for much. And you have the bonds!”
So it was arranged that Tom should go to Chicago that night and go to the banker and tell him the part of the story he did not know. The parting was a grave one, for the brothers were deeply attached to each other, and there was no knowing what perils would confront either of them before they met again.
After supper the Rambler was speeded up the river for twenty miles or more, “to get her out of the odor of trouble,” as Alex expressed it.
“Now,” Clay declared, when they came to anchor below Norton, with Chimney Peak showing not far away, “we are going to have a night free from boarders and troubles about money. We are off in good earnest at last.”
“That’s a pretty tolerable old mountain,” Alex declared, pointing to Chimney Peak. “I’d like to take a spin over to it.”
“You’ll stay right on this boat,” ordered Clay. “I’m not going to lose any time hunting you up.”
“I won’t get lost in any cellar!” returned Alex, with one of his provoking grins.
It was agreed that Case should stand guard that night, and the others went to their bunks early, with the exception of Captain Joe, who took his station on the prow and watched the slow-moving water with a meditative air. Teddy tried for a time to engage him in a boxing contest, but the dog declined with thanks and continued his inspection of the river.
It was a beautiful starlit night, and Alex was too full of the old spirit of adventure to sleep. He tumbled about in his bunk for a time and then arose and peered out on deck.