He clapped his hand to his breast as he spoke. Dig did not notice his agitation and went on with his story.
“Then’s when I let go with old Betsy here. And whew! can’t she kick some? She knocked me cold, and I just woke up.” Then he turned to peer into Chet’s face, demanding: “Say, boy! what’s the matter with you?”
Chet was absolutely pallid. He lips parted, but were so dry that for a moment he could not speak. Finally he blurted out:
“They—they’ve got ’em!”
“Got what?” gasped Dig. “Who’s got ’em?”
“The deeds.”
“Are you crazy, Chet? Nobody’s got those deeds. They’re in your pocket—”
“No!” cried Chet wildly. “They’re gone!”
“Nonsense!”
Chet had drawn open his shirt and turned it so that Dig could easily feel the empty pocket inside. He could only mutter: