“No, I won’t!” replied Clay.
“That’s right! Speak right up, promptly! Now I know just what to expect!”
“You might clear up the whole matter,” Clay complained, “and yet you won’t open your mouth! I’m not going to assist you—not if I get a chance, which is doubtful.”
“Well,” said the sheriff, moving toward the boats, “I must be getting along! I may see you later. If you come back this way don’t forget that you are all to be my guests for a few days. I really want to get better acquainted with you boys.”
“We’ll think it over,” laughed Clay. “We’re thankful for the invitation, anyway.”
“And when you get down below New Orleans,” the officer suggested, “look out for the real thing in pirates! That boat of yours would make a fine craft for a freebooter. And human life is not regarded as very valuable down there.”
“We’ll be careful, thank you!” Clay answered, and the sheriff and his men went off in their boats, leaving the boys looking wonderingly at their retreating forms.
“Now,” Alex. grumbled, “what did they come here for, anyway? They simply let us know that they were wise to our troubles and went away—without finding out anything, or giving us any information except that they were acquainted with our movements.”
“They did ask for the boy Chet,” suggested Case.
“Don’t you suppose they know what it was I put in the deposit box at the bank?” asked Clay. “Of course they know! Now, why didn’t the sheriff demand the key and claim the diamonds as stolen property?”