“Yes, and if I had had time to look about I might have stopped her,” Curlie lamented.
“Would you have wanted to do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“She seems to be a pretty good sort; never did us anything but good. Though how she came to be traveling with that rascal is more than I can guess.”
“Well, she’s gone. How about our diamonds?”
Curlie led the way to the spot of the tragedy. There had been no snow. The spot was not hard to find. As Curlie had expected, the ice had frozen to a depth of six or eight inches.
“But where are the diamonds?” he exclaimed as he failed to catch any gleam from them.
A thorough search revealed not a single stone.
“Perhaps the Whisperer came back and got them,” suggested Joe.
“Couldn’t. The ice was too thin then.”