In ten minutes we were at the foot of a hill, stumbling over roots, and stooping to avoid the branches.
"Now bend your backs an' come on," ordered the man in front.
We pushed through a tangle of growth, and next, stood in the cool of a cave, as we saw by the light of the lantern. It was a room fifty or sixty feet across.
"Looks like there's been an earthquake in here," observed Ray.
The dirt of the floor, for the greater part, was in irregular mounds. It was evidently done with spade and pick, for nothing else would account for the condition it was in.
"They're hunting for treasure," I said in Ray's ear.
We sat crouched against the cool of one of the heaps.
The men had squatted close to the entrance. A bottle was produced.
"Here's two fingers to the success o' this new deal," said the leader, turning the bottle bottom up in the midst of his beard.
The flask went round to the others. One said—"Here's hopin' he'll come back with the ten thousand." And another—"Here's wishin' him in h—l if he don't," as he drank.