“You’re an early bird, Greusel,” he said. “Have you got the worm?”
“Yes, I have,” replied the latter. “I found it in the basin of a waterfall nearly a league from here,” and with that he drew aside his cloak, showing the still wet but empty bag.
For a few moments Ebearhard did not understand. He rose and shook himself, glancing about him.
“Great Jove!” he cried, “this surely isn’t the stream by which we lay down last night? Do you mean to tell me that thread of water struck terror into my heart only a few hours ago? I never slept out of doors before in all my life, and could not have imagined it would produce such an effect. I see what you mean now. You have found the bag which Roland threw into the foaming torrent.”
“Yes; I was as much astonished at the transformation as you when I awoke, and then it occurred to me that when our friends saw the reduction of the rivulet, they would forthwith begin a treasure-hunt, so I determined to obliterate the evidence.”
“Was the bag really full of stones?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, that is a lesson to me. I believe after all that Roland is helplessly truthful, but last night I thought he befooled us. I was certain it was the bag of coin he had thrown away, and becoming ashamed of himself, had lied to us.”
“How could you imagine that? He showed us both the bag of money.”
“He produced a bag full of something, but I, being the doubting Thomas of the group, was not convinced it contained money.”