“What is it, mother?” asked Sandy, quickly, scenting possible trouble.
“I cannot find my little treasure box, in which I kept what few valuables I possessed, as well as your wampum belt which Pontiac gave you as a pledge of his constant good will,” Mrs. Armstrong replied. “And, come to think of it, did any of you bring it out of the cabin? You know I kept it on that small shelf above the window.”
The two boys looked at each other in dismay. There was no need to ask if either had seen the box of valuables, for the expression on their faces told the story.
“It must be in the cabin still, then!” exclaimed Sandy.
Forgetting his lame ankle, he turned and hurried away, impulsive as ever; and Mrs. Armstrong wrung her hands as she appealed to Bob to stop him.
“Much as I value the things that are in that little box, not for ten times their worth would I have one of my boys imperil his life in the effort to save them. Go as fast as you can, then, Bob, and hold your hasty brother in check before he takes that dreadful risk!”
Hardly waiting to hear the last word, Bob was off like a shot. He was just in time, for as he came upon Sandy the latter had reached the edge of the water, and was about to start boldly into the swift current, meaning to swim out to the half-submerged cabin.
Bob gripped him by the arm, and shouted in his ear:
“You must not go out there, Sandy, mother says! It would be an act of madness. Already the water is over our heads; and look at the way the cabin trembles with the force of the current. It may be carried away at any minute!”
And Sandy, with a groan, let his head drop until his chin rested on his chest, for he saw that Bob spoke truly.