What could the man be doing? Was he insane? He blamed his folly in seeking again this dangerous neighborhood after the encounter of the morning.
“Oh, if I were only safe at home,” he mentally ejaculated; “or, if Congreve were with me. If he discovers me he may kill me.”
He thought of running away, but in the silence of the forest his steps would undoubtedly be heard, and he would be pursued. So it seemed most prudent to stay where he was. In fear and trembling he continued to watch the dreadful outlaw.
It was not long before Temple made the unwelcome discovery, suspected from the first, that the box was gone. He desisted from his work and gave vent to such a volley of imprecations that Philip trembled as if he had an ague fit.
Could it be, Temple asked himself, that Vernon had proved false to him, and, returning, conveyed away the box for his own individual profit?
“If he has, I’ll kill him,” he muttered, in a deep, growling tone.
Philip heard him, and his heart beat fast with fear. Who did Temple want to kill? Was it himself or Congreve?
“I’d give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to be at home,” thought the miserable boy.
As for Temple, he was no less miserable. All his hopes and anticipations were dashed. The disappearance of the tin box, whoever might have removed it, would render it impossible to carry out plans of Californian emigration with which he had been solacing himself all the morning. Such a big haul as the present might never be made again.
His first suspicion fell upon his partner, but he also thought of the two whom he had met in the forenoon in the wood. They had been suspiciously near the spot, and might be implicated in the loss. It didn’t seem probable, but it was possible.