“We’d better try it out on him tomorrow,” decided Dick. “He’ll be in there several hours, and it will probably take him another hour to find a new hiding place for his precious treasure chest. It’s getting late now. We ought to be in bed.”
The boys went over and sat down on a long bench near the fireplace and began idly to take mental inventory of the room. Bear skins hung from the wall. In the center of the room stood a long rough board table, covered with a somewhat frayed and tattered cloth. Above the mantel were several firearms of various caliber and design.
Suddenly, Sandy leaned forward and clapped Dick on the knee.
“Dick, I have an idea. Just for the fun of it, let’s follow the old rascal and find out where he hides that box.”
Dick looked at the other dubiously.
“Well,” he hesitated. “I don’t know. It seems like meddling to me—prying into something that doesn’t concern us.”
“Wait a moment, Dick. Is it really meddling? For the sake of argument, suppose that box contained Dewberry’s poke and money. We already have a suspicion that such may be the case. Why wouldn’t we be justified in following him, when he leaves his room, and attempt to find where he hides the box?”
“But surely you wouldn’t open it?”
“Why not? I don’t think I would have any scruples about that. Remember you are dealing with a crook.”
“Are we?” argued Dick. “What makes you so sure? We have proved nothing against him. Neither has Corporal Rand. He may be entirely innocent.”