“What’s matter, Mars Sam?”
“Nux,” said I, checking my amusement and trying to look grave and impressive, “there’s an old saying that ‘there’s never a lock so strong but there’s a key to fit it’. In other words, while there’s life there’s hope; never give up the ship; every sky has a silver lining!”
Nux looked puzzled.
“That’s a lovely pair of trousers you’re wearing, Nux,” I continued, in a jocular strain. “They’re made of the stoutest cloth Uncle Naboth could find in San Francisco, and I gave them to you out of the ship’s stores only three or four days ago, because your old ones were so ragged.”
Nux glanced at his wide-legged blue trousers and nodded.
“Now, old man,” said I, “you’ve often told me you used to go bare-legged and bare-backed in your own island, so I’m going to ask you to go bare-legged a little while now, and lend me those trousers.”
“Wha’ for, Mars Sam?”
“To put the gold grains in, of course. The robbers may look for the sacks of gold, when they come back, but they’re pretty sure not to open them. Therefore, my friend we’ll fix it so that they’ll think their gold is all safe.”
“How, Mars Sam?”
“By filling the sacks with sand, and burying them again where we found them.”