"We have gone down two feet already," said Walter, in a discouraged voice, as he started wielding the paddle again. "I guess there is something wrong with our calculation, Charley." He stopped suddenly and looked up with a comical look of surprise and anticipation.
"I struck something," he announced breathlessly, "something kind of soft and yielding."
"Go on," Charley shouted in his excitement, and Walter bent to his task again.
The removal of a few more shovelfuls of earth exposed to view a large, dark, hairy object. Stooping, Walter with difficulty lifted it out of the hole.
All clustered close around it in their eagerness.
What had looked at first glance like a large, dead animal, proved to be a deer-hide stretched on framework, the hairy side out. A few slashes of Charley's hunting-knife laid open this rude leather box and revealed to their eager gaze a smaller similar box inside. Charley lifted it out and cut away the top.
By the now dim light, they could only see the tapering shapes of hundreds of long plumes carefully packed inside.
"There must be all of fifty pounds of them," said Walter, in an awe-struck voice, "why, they'll make us rich men."
"Give me a hand to carry them up to the wigwam," said Charley. "Run ahead, Chris, and stir up the fire so we can see what we have got."
The excited captain swung the box upon his shoulder and strode forward hard upon Chris' heels. He laid his burden down close to the fire and all crowded around.