“Yes.”
“Well, it’s a pretty thing. Look here, Lilly; there’s a little diamond set on it, and here are letters on the inner surface.”
“Letters?” echoed Antenat, starting.
But Moravy bent forward into the stronger firelight, and tried to make out the word engraved on the tiny ring.
“As near as I can make out,” he said, as he looked, “the word, ‘Jennie.’ But this is the queerest place for a baby ring with a child’s name on it. Just think of angels in Cut-throat, boys.”
Lilly burst into a loud guffaw at his comrade’s attempt at wit; but the lines of thought deepened on Antenat’s face, and taking the ring, he looked at it steadily a long time.
“Parbleu! it shall not hide here any more,” he said, suddenly. “When I found it I said I would put it away where nobody would find it, for there are fellows who would sell it for a drink of whisky. Antenat will carry it with him, hereafter. Ah! ma petite Jennie, some day old Louis may have the pleasure of restoring your ring.”
The two men did not hear the last sentence, for Lilly had leaped up, and darted toward the mouth of the cave.
His figure was unseen for a moment, and then it sprung back into the firelight, and beckoned the others to his side.