Ralph fell in with his brother’s suggestion and drew out the key which was secured round his neck. He unlocked the rusty padlock and threw open the lid. The chest contained six small bags filled to bursting point and securely tied with rawhide; one bag, half-full and open; and a thick packet of Bank of Montreal bills.
Nick knelt down and took out the bills and set them on one side.
“Ther’s fi’ thousand dollars ther,” he said. “I ’lows they’ve been reckoned careful.” Then he picked up one of the bags and held it up for his brother’s inspection. “We tied them seven bags up all weighin’ equal, but we ain’t jest sure how much dust they hold. Seven,” he went on reflectively, “ther’s on’y six an’ a haf now, since them woodbugs got at ’em, ’fore we made this chest. I ’lows Victor’s ’cute to locate the dust in them furs. It wa’n’t a good layout wrappin’ the bags in black fox pelts. Howsum, I’d like to know the value o’ them bags. Weighs nigh on to three poun’, I’m guessin’.”
Ralph took the bag and weighed it in his hand.
“More,” he said. “Ther’s fi’ poun’ o’ weight ther’.”
“Guess them bags together means fifteen to twenty thousan’ dollars, sure,” said Nick, his eyes shining at the thought.
“I don’t rightly know,” said Ralph. “It’s a goodish wad, I ’lows.”
Nick returned the store to the chest which Ralph relocked.
“Where?” asked Nick, glancing round the hut in search of a secure hiding-place.
“We’ll dig a hole in the floor under my blankets,” said Ralph after a pause. “Maybe it’ll be tol’ble safe there.”