“S’pose we do turn off here and do as Paul wants us to? S’pose we spend a day or two enlarging our hotel bill, and don’t find anything after all? Besides, who would believe anything Coster says? Nobody”—here a skeptical look at P. Jones, Esq., now dressing in some haste—“nobody, I say, but him.” Dave jerked a finger at Paul, who was pulling his shirt on over his head.
“I hear you,” came Paul’s voice, half smothered as he struggled up through the shirt and, his head popping into view, he eyed MacLester in disdain.
“Oh, I don’t know!” remarked Worth, nodding at Phil. “What do you think of it, boss?” meaning Way.
“I think just what I said to Paul last night. It’s a gambling chance. Shall we take it? Is it up to a vote?”
“You bet!” shouted Paul, greatly enthused. “In the first place it will be lots of fun. No one seems to know anything about this secret place of hiding or what may possibly be hidden there but us. Do they now?”
“N-no.” This from Worth, who was evidently much impressed. “We may be fooled, but who shall say that Coster wasn’t acting on the square? I saw Paul going out of his way to make Coster a mite more comfortable, especially after he was caught with the goods on him, so to speak. Bad as he is, he may have had some notion of doing Paul the only good turn he alone could do, by putting him wise to this thing. Anyhow, it’s fun and fun is one thing we’re after.”
“Well, then,” remarked Phil, “shall we put it to a vote?”
“Yep—let’s vot’er now, right off the bat.” So added Jones, by now fairly in his trousers and reaching for his footgear. “I vote yes—yes, siree!”
“So do I,” said Billy, glancing quizzically at Dave. “Me for treasure hunting! Gee! Wouldn’t I like to feel my shovel scrape something hard, and see my hand pull out a wad of bank notes all caked with woods dirt?”
“What do you say, Mac?” Phil was looking at MacLester, who colored slightly.