"Are we halfway to the old sugar camp, Pryne?" Matt called.
"Better'n that," was the reply. "Here's where we turn for up the hill."
The hill was long and high, and the road turned into a little-used trail and ascended through timber. The horses pulled and panted and the gad fell mercilessly.
"Somethin' of a climb," said Pryne casually. "One of them tires back there is loose—the one on the right-hand side. Kinder keep an eye on it, will you?"
Matt looked at the tire, which was on his side of the wagon. As yet, it was all right. Matt hoped it would remain so, for if Pryne got out to drive it on he might discover the loss of his middlings—and other things which would have a tendency to excite his suspicions.
"Der dust ain't so much here," observed Goldstein, in a tone of relief.
"Ain't so many wagons to churn it up," said Pryne.
Then fell silence again, Matt busy with his thoughts.
Where was Tsan Ti? While Matt was running down the Eye of Buddha for him, what was the Chinaman, to whom the recovery of the ruby meant so much, doing?
These speculations were bootless, and Matt fell to thinking of the glass balls. If Grattan had a supply of them, all the men McGlory could bring would not be able to prevent him from getting away.