“‘Grandma and the Children—three peaks due east,’” whispered Elfreda.
She saw a sudden flash in Tom Gray’s eyes, an expression that Elfreda was unable to interpret.
“‘When the sun is at the meridian the sands turn to golden yellow,’” he quoted from the diary. “This, taken in connection with what you say was on the torn leaf, is quite enlightening. I think we will tear out two more pages while we are about it, if you have no objection.”
“Go as far as you like, Tom. You may throw the book away if you wish. It has brought us only bad luck,” said Miss Briggs.
“I say, White! My suggestion is that we leave this confounded diary where Stacy directs us to leave it.”
“And the gold?”
“Well, that is different. I don’t like the idea of giving gold to those cutthroats. What is the value of the stuff? Let us look it over.”
Tom Gray examined the nuggets, weighed them in his hand, a stone at a time, and, disregarding the “dust,” closed and secured the bag. Then he opened it, and weighing out several nuggets again in his hand, glanced over at Miss Briggs.
“I should say that there is something more than two thousand dollars’ worth of nuggets and ‘dirt’ there, of which I hold from five to seven hundred dollars’ worth in my hand. Elfreda, you probably will think I have a cold nerve to make the suggestion, but I propose that we put these nuggets in a bag with the diary and leave them for the bandits.”
“What! Give five hundred dollars to a bunch of bandits?” cried Hippy aghast. “Impossible! Are you crazy?”