Sandy turned upon the young Indian.
“By the way, Toma, what became of that box, the night we left here and you took Creel over to the road-house?”
“He take box with him.”
“Whoever came here,” reasoned Dick, “must have thought that Creel’s treasure had been left behind.”
Sandy scratched his head.
“Look here, Dick, do you think it was the box? Was it the money he came after? Why not that mysterious poke?”
Dick slapped his chum on the back.
“You have it,” he exulted. “We’re getting closer now.”
“And the plot thickens,” grinned Sandy.
“A few more tangled threads,” Dick answered, smiling. “Perhaps we’d better give up. This case is too deep and complicated for us. We haven’t the ability to solve it.”