“Thet’s the body,” said Flick, a grin of triumph overspreading his broad, florid face.
“Yes, yes, yes,” replied Frank, “and a clever trick it is. But why do they take so much trouble in burying their gold?”
“Thinking, thet if any greenhorn like yeeselfs should rhun ag’inst the coffin and open it, see the dead face, or wax figure in’t, they would misthrust nothing—put it back and go their way, jist as yees would have done in this case.”
Flick now filled the leather bag with pebbles, wrapped it in the old ragged clothes taken from the mute half-breed, and stuffed it back into the coffin with the wax-figure. He then consigned the coffin to the earth again—covered it over and smoothed down the sods.
The three pocketed their gold, the generous Irishman having insisted on dividing it equally, which proved no little incumbrance as well as fortune, and taking up their arms crossed over to the main-land.
By this time long fasting was beginning to tell upon their strength, and it was at once decided to procure something to appease their gnawing hunger.
A few minutes’ hunting resulted in Flick shooting a fawn, a portion of which was at once roasted. After the meal had been dispatched, another slice of meat was cooked and stowed away in the young sportsmen’s game-bags for future use.
Feeling much refreshed they now continued their journey through the hills, and ere long discovered an Indian trail.
The party at once set off to follow it, and pursued rapidly until it entered a deep, black defile, where the growth of heavy pines almost excluded the rays of the sun.
“Faith, and it’s not the farst thime thet mees hev been through here,” said Flick; “and every time I could imagine thet mees felt the icy fingers av Old Nick upon me.”