A. M. Chisholm

“ But it turned out . . . away fast enough, and we found there was a big bunch after us, and headed us into . . . traveling faster than we could the way we . . . cache everything, and scatter, and meet again when it was safe; and they agreed, because it was that, or get caught.
I took Joe Barbe with me, and left the rest, and we doubled back and watched the bunch go by. And then we raised the cache and made a new one. ”

“ I imagine Peggy had as much to do with retarding it as anything or anybody. For the first time I was forced to the realization that an otherwise sane man may prefer mooning about with a girl to the attractions of the woods and the river. ”

“ CHAPTER IV. DEAD MEN'S BONES. From the first there was no doubt that I should be allowed to go with Mr. Dunleath. But he was not strong, and Uncle Fred thought he should wait for a week at least. In that time I worked hard, so that I might go with a clear conscience. And meanwhile Uncle Fred and Peggy saw far more of our guest than I did. Indeed he and Peggy became great friends, and spent hours together reading and talking by the river, though for my part I could not see what he found to talk about to a girl so often and so long, and I told Peggy so. ”

“ They quarreled over the spoils. About then they had to make a get-away from some party that outnumbered them. So they cached whatever it was, and McNab lifted it and cached it again. It was bulky, or heavy, because they couldn't travel with it, and, anyway, that part about the canoes settles it. ”

“ Then, having fooled his companions, McNab took sick. As he describes it, I'll bet it was appendicitis—and he wrote this note to his brother and gave it to Joe Barbe. If Barbe is this skeleton—or the skeleton Barbe—his brother never saw it. And that is likely from the way we found the letter in the box. So the chances are that whatever they cached is there still."
"But what was it?" I asked. "Gold?"
"Not likely. He tells his brother to bring about four canoes. He couldn't have four canoe loads of gold. He says it is worth 'a hun——' That must mean a hundred. A hundred what?" ”

“ You will some day be a great detective." He unfolded the paper carefully. "Writing, sure enough!" he exclaimed. "Must have been a white man. Pencil writing, and pretty bad. Let's see if we can read it!"
He smoothed it out flat on the sand, and we lay down on our stomachs to decipher it. The paper had apparently been old and crumpled before being written on. In addition, the writing was clumsy, faint, and shaky. In parts it was quite illegible, but this is what we finally made out ”