The covetous eyes of the crafty pair sought each other; and then the two exchanged nods. They had swallowed the bait, gorged it in fact; but Bob knew that he must try to prevent their feeling the hook until he was ready to strike.
"What is zis you tell us, hey?" Larue continued craftily. "Zat if we let you go free, you take us to ze place where we can peek up much of zis same yellow sand in ze rock? But how we know you keep your word? S'pose we hold one like hostage till time come zat you carry out promise?"
Bob turned to his brother, at the same time giving him a sly wink.
"What say you to that, Sandy?" he asked. "Would you agree to stay with Larue and his friends while I carry out our little plan; and then, later on, they would set you free, after I had led them to where they might find more of this?"
And Sandy, beginning to realize the value of passing seconds, pretended to carefully weigh the importance of the proposition before replying. Finally, after the Frenchmen had begun to move restlessly, as they kept their eager eyes fastened on him, Sandy nodded his head.
"Whatever you think best, that will I do, Bob?" he said, slowly.
"Zat is well, young monsieur," chuckled Jacques, rubbing his hands together, as if greatly pleased. "Parbleu! it may be zat we shall yet be able to make arrangements satisfactory to both. If you rescue ze young ma'mselle, we are to be told ze secret; if, on ze uzzer hand, you fail, still ze one who is wiz us shall lead us to ze fine mine. It ees a bargain!"
So delighted were the four men over the prospect, that those who were supposed to be watching the boys allowed their rifles to sag a bit. Bob was running a hand through the pockets of his clothes, as though eagerly searching for something else, and of course every eye was riveted on his movements; which was the very object he had in mind.
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there was a rush of feet. The four French trappers whirled about with the intention of putting up a stout resistance, but it was too late. They had been caught napping!
The guns were torn from their grasp, and hurled to the ground. Instantly they found themselves staring into dark muzzles of guns held in steady hands, while back of these weapons appeared the faces of Simon Kenton, Pat O'Mara and one other woodranger. Nor was Blue Jacket missing, for he stood in plain sight, with an arrow fitted to his bowstring, and drawn nearly to the flint barb, as he aimed straight at the heart of Larue.