He was down a short time, when he called out to be drawn to the surface again.
He came up with the saddle-blanket secured at the corners, and a heavy weight in it.
“What ye got thar, Buffler?” asked the curious trapper.
“About thirty pounds of amalgam, at a rough guess,” was the answer.
“Amalgam!” cried the startled Nomad.
Then the scout explained, and when the truth dawned on the trapper he chuckled mightily.
“Et wasn’t er good thing for them varmints ter put ye down thar with thet Three-ply loot,” said he. “Didn’t ther ijuts know better, er was they jest takin’ er chance ye wouldn’t find et?”
“They were taking the chance that we couldn’t get out if we did find it,” answered the scout, “and it was Little Cayuse’s work that enabled us to fool them. The baron and I will stow the stuff in our war-bags, and then we’ll ride.”
“Whar’ll we ride ter, Buffler?”