Dick jumped.
“From Henderson!” he exclaimed.
The Indian nodded in the affirmative.
“Me pretty sure Henderson man come during night, wake up Lee an’ Pierre an’ give money so they run away. In the dark, they drop money in grass an’ no find this one.”
Sandy turned mournful, accusing eyes upon Toma. Dejectedly, he kicked the turf at his feet.
“That’s always the way,” he lamented. “The minute I begin to feel happy and contented, something like this comes along to upset me. I believe Toma now. This business about the money has so thoroughly convinced me, Dick, that I wouldn’t be surprised if Henderson himself should step out of that clump of bushes over yonder and tell us to throw up our hands.”
“We’ll keep guard every night now,” Dick decided. “Whatever happens, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Perhaps we ought to camp here and wait for Uncle Walter,” Sandy suggested. “I don’t mind confessing to both of you that I’m scared stiff. Between the Indians and their arrows and Henderson and his guns, I predict that we’re going to have a hot time of it.”
“I think we be all right ’till we get to mine,” said Toma. “No use stop here.”
“What do you propose, Dick?”