“It’s likely to be somewhere around Cliffside,” admitted Bill. “Hank wasn’t much of a hand to go far away from home after our South Sea trip.”
“Then all we’ll have to do is to watch where any stranger begins digging operations,” was Ned’s opinion. “I say stranger, for we don’t any of us know this Rod Marbury.”
“I know him—to my sorrow!” remarked Jolly Bill. “But as for watching for a digger—gosh! any number of holes could be sunk, off in the woods—in the mountains—even at Storm Mountain—and no one in the village would ever know it—not even the police.”
“I guess that’s right,” agreed Ned. “We’ll have to leave it to Bob Dexter.”
“Well, Bob Dexter isn’t going to do anything about it right away,” declared the young detective himself. “I’ve got to get back and report to Uncle Joel. I’ve been away a long time as it is.”
“That’s right,” said his chums.
“Well, I’ll see you again some time,” remarked Jolly Bill, as they left him at the Mansion House—a hotel hardly living up to its name—but good enough for the purpose. “I’m going to stick around a while and see if I can help Hiram. Of course I feel a bit sore that I didn’t get a share in the big part of the treasure, but it served me right for letting Rod lead me astray in attacking Hank. I deserve all I’m getting, and I’m not complaining.”
He seemed quite humble and not a bit jolly now.
“But I’ll do all I can to help Hiram,” he went on, as he stumped into the hotel, attracting many curious glances, for he was as odd a character as had been seen in those parts in many a long day. “And if I can help you solve this mystery, my young detective, call on me,” he said to Bob.
“Thanks, I shall,” was the answer. “I don’t know that I can do anything, but I’m going to try, if my uncle will let me.”