“Under a board in the floor, under the stove,” she said.
“Golly!” cried Cliff, “that’s why Henry was so anxious to find Mort and to get you and learn about that.”
“That—and the rest of the gold dust,” Tom agreed.
“Well, they owe us their lives now,” Nicky asserted. “We can share some of what’s rightfully ours, and especially the half-interest in the Golden Sun mine.”
But, outside in the dark, there was a pair of ears that heard and a brain that was bound that no one should share except Mort and Henry.
Once before Henry had repaid the saving of his life by treachery.
He was planning to do so again.
“Well,” said Tom, “we’d better let Margery get some sleep. When the Indians come around in the morning we can plan to leave as soon as possible.” That was agreed to.
They were awakened soon after dawn by a tumult and excitement in the square. Margery met them, her hair blowing in the morning breeze.
“The two white men have gone!” she cried. “They left during the night!”