Dashington was probably ten minutes getting the pole. By the time he was back, Jurgens' hands had been released and rebound in front of him. The pole was slipped between his hands and feet, and Matt and Dick, at one end, and Carl and Dashington, at the other, lifted it to their shoulders.
Jurgens hung downward, the pole catching the ropes that bound him and holding him suspended. His position was far from comfortable, but the boys could not help that.
"I'm wise to the road we've got to take," said Dashington, "so this end of the pole had better travel ahead. We'll come out on the turnpike a half mile the other side of where I saw the automobile. It won't be many minutes before Bangs and Whistler will begin to wonder what became of Jurgens and the sparks, and they'll probably go out on a hunt. Luck seems to be on our side, so I'm hoping they sidestep us."
The ends of the pole were shifted so that Carl and Dashington could travel ahead. Dashington had his bearings, and he led off as briskly as he could, considering that the thick timber and the long pole made it necessary to pick their way with some care.
"You can see, fellows," philosophized Matt, from the rear, "what greed will do for a man. Jurgens wouldn't trust the diamonds with Whistler and Bangs. He had to take them with him. If he hadn't had them, the bag of loot wouldn't be in our hands now."
"Jurgens is a four-ply wonder," said Dashington. "He was greedy with me, and that's how I came to scratch my entry in his free-for-all grafting game, I hope they give him ninety-nine years at hard labor."
What Jurgens' thoughts were as he was pitched and swayed along and listened to this talk, did not appear. He was probably meditating on the changeable nature of human affairs, and thinking of the many times he had had the treasure of the Man from Cape Town in his hands and had failed, in the final pinch, to get away with it.
As they got farther and farther into the timber, Matt counseled silence. They were drawing close to the road and their voices might carry to the ears of Whistler or Bangs, if they happened to be abroad.
After that the journey was continued in silence, the lads pausing, now and then, to change the pole from one shoulder to the other.
Everything was going swimmingly, and Matt was looking ahead to an easy jaunt along the road into Chef Menteur, and then a comfortable ride on the railroad back to New Orleans, when Carl and Dashington suddenly laid back on the pole and whirled around to get the front end farther back into the timber.