"When are you going to hunt them out?" asked Matt.

"Huntin' right now, son. Huntin' while we set gassin' with you. We hunts in our sleep."

"No joking, now. When are you going to get up a posse? I want to go along."

"We'll send for ye when we feel that we need ye, son. Come along, Ike. I hear Number Three whistlin' fer the crossin'. Watch the blind baggage."



CHAPTER XVI

DETECTIVE MATTY

Glen managed to get back to the camp without coming under Matt's notice. His animosity had all disappeared. This one act of loyalty on Matt's part wiped out a great load of snubs and grudges. He knew that his connection with the reform school was quite generally known at the camp, for Mr. Newton himself—subsequent to the disclosures of J. Jervice—had seen fit to explain to the scouts that Glen might be considered as staying under his parole, and had further expressed his conviction that the authorities would certainly make the parole permanent in view of all the facts. An explanation made to friendly boys, however, was a vastly different thing from making one to officers who had a chance to earn a reward. He felt, therefore, that Matt had saved him from a real danger.

Chick-chick and Apple were anxiously awaiting his coming that they might complete the map which they were preparing from his recollection of the chart shown by Jervice. Mr. Newton had decided that the information Glen had gained from the robbers' chart was his exclusive property, since it had been obtained by him while in peril of life and limb. But Glen was not disposed to take advantage of this, and with the help of Apple and Chick-chick as chartographers was preparing a chart for the free use of the entire camp.

"We have everything sketched in that you told us," said Apple. "What we want now is to be as nearly sure as possible where the big star was."

"It looked to be about half way down the side of the Mound," said Glen. "Right near it I saw marks for 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs.'"

"We've been looking along Buffalo Creek and we can't find any Twin Elms. There's only one place where two elms are anywhere near together and one of them is a great big elm, and the other a little sapling that isn't more than five years old. That would throw it out altogether as far as locating our cave."

"How about Deep Springs?"

"Well, there's the Ice Box. The Springs must be deep there because it's so cold. We used to swim there last year but it's really too cold for fun. That's just about half way down the Mound, but there's no elms anywhere near."

"How would it be to mark that for 'Deep Springs' and put the mark for 'Twin Elms' just where the two elms you speak about are?"

"An' then put big star between 'em an' everything be over but pickin' up treasure," put in Chick-chick, sarcastically.

"No, it wouldn't do," said Apple. "We don't know that Deep Springs and the Ice Box are the same and we are pretty sure Twin Elms couldn't be the old tree and the sapling. The only thing I know to do is to make the marks just like you saw them and let the scouts figure them out for themselves. If we go putting our own ideas in we will likely spoil the whole thing."

"Great head, this," endorsed Chick-chick, patting the curly head appreciatively.

They took the chart out and nailed it to a tree near the cook shack and in a few moments it was being studied by the entire troop which had just gathered for dinner.

It might well be doubted whether the chart served any purpose of enlightenment, after all. It showed certain local land marks and several crosses were designated at different spots but just what they represented was still a mystery. The principal cross was the one over which Mr. Jervice had placed his thumb, and this inclined the majority to decide to hunt in that direction, but unfortunately it was hard to find "Twin Elms" thereabout, and the "Deep Springs" were only a matter of surmise. It had certainly served the purpose of reviving interest in the treasure hunt and mysterious rumors of a cave in which a robber band had hidden booty did not lessen it.

Will Spencer while pleased at the renewed activity was by no means sure that it would help his search.

"Think we'll have to push on back to our cornfield and do some exploring from the old bed of the lake back to its source, Glen," said he. "Gold is nothing to us. What we want is water."

"Supposing some of these scouts should find all that bullion, you'd think differently," said Glen.

Spencer laughed.

"You're having a good vacation about it," he said. "We'll stay this week out since we're both having such a good time. Next week you push your Uncle Bill and his billy cart back to Ryder's farmhouse and we begin over again."

"Any time you say," agreed Glen. "Here's Goosey looking as if he was excited about something."

"Found the treasure, son?" asked Will.

"Not yet," admitted Goosey. "But I've got an idea."

"When you're looking for treasure look for signs of old water-courses. If you find one, follow it along and see if it leads to a spring."

"What good'll that do?" asked Goosey.

"Twenty dollars' worth," replied Jolly Bill. "Twenty dollars in coin of the realm. This old buried treasure may be in such shape that you can't cash it. My money will be straight goods."

"Guess I'll find the gold the Indians stole," said Goosey. "I've got a scheme, leastways Matty's got one, and he's letting me in on it."

It was not until next day that Goosey, under pressure from Chick-chick, disclosed more of Matty's wonderful scheme.

"You know, Matty's read a lot about detecting things and he knows all about how to do it."

"Yes, we ought to know about that, Goosey. See how he found the bread box."

"Well, he admits he slipped up there. But this time it's different. He says he ain't soft enough to suppose Brick Mason is giving out information to help people find the treasure when—"

"Hold on, Goosey. Thought Matt didn't believe there was any treasure. He believes whole thing fake—Matt does."

"Well, after he talked to the deputy sheriff and found out there was a big reward offered he changed his mind. He says it ain't reasonable the Bankers' Association would offer a reward just for nothing. So then he says, of course Brick Mason's chart is a blind. Brick wants everybody to be wasting their time on a wrong scent while he goes after the real thing."

"Real clever; Matty is. Wish he was as white as Brick."

"Well, Matt's clever, anyway; no gettin' around that. What does he do to get on the right track? He goes an' hunts up the Indian—the one as told us to look for heap rock."

"Bright idea. Of course Indian wouldn't tell Matt anything but truth—he wouldn't."

"No, because Matt gave him two dollars. So Indian told him there was a cave and he wasn't sure about the treasure because he's superstitious and he's too much afraid of the dead men to look. But the cave isn't anywhere near Buffalo Creek. It's on down below."

"You mean below camp?"

"Yes, down in the woods somewhere around Vinegar Creek. You know Buffalo Creek gets pretty rapid after it passes the Ice Box. Runs down with lots of force into Vinegar Creek. It's quite a gully down there and for five dollars more the Indian's willing to show Matt the exact place."

"Worth that much to Matty?"

"Worth it! You ain't talkin' sense. Matt doesn't need money so awful bad, but there's just two things he'd like better than anything else in the world. One is to find the treasure and so kill that everlastin' joke about the bread box. T'other's to catch the bank robbers an' so show that he's the smartest boy in camp."

"That five dollars won't get him to it—it won't."

"Well, Matt's lucky this time, as it happens. He isn't going to have to pay the Indian the five. He's found a better way. Last night he went down to kinder look things over an' he found a couple o' men camping. First off he hoped they were the robbers but they're pretty nice men and they're engineers. Matt wouldn't have told them anything but when he found they were surveyin' Vinegar Creek and goin' on up to Buffalo next he could see right off that they had good chances of runnin' right into the cave, so he gets ahead of 'em by tellin' all about it and making 'em promise equal shares if they found anything."

"Clever Matty!" exclaimed Chick-chick.

"Yes, he's clever, Matty is. No good paying any five dollars to any Indian when he's got as good a thing as that. These engineers want to see our camp so Matty's to bring 'em up this afternoon while everybody's at the swim. He doesn't want the crowd around to be pestering 'em with questions."

When this information was carried to Jolly Bill he was more disturbed than he cared to acknowledge. He had a very well defined feeling that his scheme to restore Buffalo Lake had become common property and that these engineers were competitors. He felt some safety in the fact that he held options on the land; yet he had a strong desire to see this surveying corps and talk with the men about their work.

Thus it happened that Glen was in camp when the surveyors came—he stayed at Spencer's request to engineer the billy-cart. The engineers were young fellows, not overly clean; perhaps it was not to be expected in following such work. They were genial enough to the few people who were in camp. At first they did not seem inclined to pay much attention to Spencer, but after he had asked them one or two questions they began to take notice.

"Where are you running your levels for the Vinegar Creek survey?" asked Spencer.

"Running what?" said one.

"Oh, levels," said the other. "We haven't got to that yet."

"Find it rather hard to carry your lines through all that brush, don't you?"

"We will if we have to do it."

"What elevation do you work from?"

"We ain't quite decided. You see, we only just made camp. Mebbe we'll work up here first."

"You'll have to see Mr. Newton about that," said Spencer.

"We'll see him," said the spokesman. "We're going to look along up this creek a piece, now."

"Think perhaps you'll start your survey at an obtuse angle or an angle of sixty degrees, which?" asked Spencer gravely.

"Sixty degrees," replied the man, as if glad to get off so easily.

"Now, I'm quite sure they're no engineers," said Spencer to Glen as the two men followed Matt along the bank of Buffalo Creek. "I rather thought they weren't from the start, which is why I asked such foolish questions. Well, that relieves my anxiety about competition."

"What do you reckon they are?" asked Glen.

"Two farmer boys who want to work Matt for something, I suppose. We ought to warn him to be on guard, but really I think a few lessons will do Matt lots of good."

"He did me a good turn yesterday," said Glen. "I'd like to put him next."

"You can try it," agreed Will. "But Matt is one of the class of people who would rather be fooled than warned."

Glen ran along after the trio. The noise of his approach caught Matt's ear and he turned with a look of disgust on his face.

"You aren't in on this," he exclaimed angrily. "These two men are my friends and our business is private."

"I just wanted to tell you something, Burton," said Glen. "I'll go back as soon as I've said it."

"Fire away," instructed Matt. "The quicker you get rid of it and go the way you came, the better."

"Come over here and I'll tell you."

"These men are my friends, I tell you. Whatever you have to say to me they can hear."

"They're not scouts," objected Glen.

"You're not much of a one," retorted Matt.

The words Glen had for Matt were not to be bawled into the ears of strangers, so he left the foolish boy to follow his own tactics. It was not too late for the swim and Glen was glad to have at least a few minutes of his favorite sport.

He was dressing when some one tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up into the comical face of Chick-chick.

"Hey, Brick. Found something, I have," he announced.

"What is it?" asked Glen.

"Hssh! Not so loud! Don't want whole camp to know. It's secret. Footprints on sands of time."

"You're talking nonsense," said Glen.

"No nonsense about it. It's wheelprints 'stead o' footprints, that's all. Come an' see. I was chasin' butterfly down near Vinegar Creek an' I ran on it by accident, I did."

The two boys managed to slip away from the crowd and Chick-chick mysteriously led the way down the road in the direction of the heavy woods that marked the location of Vinegar Creek.

"While back I heard a car chuggin' along. Funny for car be down here, don't ye know. Then there's somethin' 'bout an engine's voice—every engine got voice of its own and you 'member it after you get 'quainted. Seemed to me I knew that voice. Looked at car an' didn't look like anything ever seen. Car all stripped off—nothing much left but chassis. Then I came down to road an' looked at tracks. Wait bit. Soon be there, we will."

He led on for another hundred yards until they reached a point where an old woods trail struck out into the highway. Here Chick-chick paused.

"Look at this, Brick," he said. "Ever see tire-tracks look like that, did you?"

Glen looked at the tracks. They were exactly like those he had smoothed away when concealing the departure of the J. Jervice car at the ford.

"Verdict of Jury 'Guilty as charged'!" exclaimed Chick-chick, looking into his eyes. "Come on, Brick, let's follow 'long this old cow-path till we see our beloved car once more."



CHAPTER XVII

THE END OF THE JERVICE GANG

All that Glen could do was to follow where Chick-chick led and try to go just as noiselessly, and to flit carefully from one screen of cover to the next in just as unobtrusive a way. It was an old sport with Chick-chick, but though Glen was an amateur at it he made a very good performance.

It was not reasonable to suppose that an automobile could get very far along such a road, yet they had traveled a quarter mile before the tracks swung entirely away from the old path and followed a strip of comparatively bare ground that led in toward the creek.

"There she is!" at last Chick-chick whispered. "Don't look bit like gay old friend we left, she don't."

She did not. If it were the same car it meant that the gang, feeling that so conspicuous a mark as the J. Jervice car originally presented would be a fatal advertisement of their identity, and yet desirous of making use of the car, had stripped it clean of the betraying top and had taken away everything that could mark it for a peddler's car.

Their plan would have worked successfully but for the betraying tires, and the sharp eye and quick mind of scout Henry Henry, commonly known as Chick-chick.

"Are you sure it's the same?" whispered Glen.

"Surest thing on wheels," affirmed Chick-chick. "Bet you find drygoods in the transmission case if dare look."

"Why do you suppose they've left it here?"

"Good, safe place. Nobody see. Camp not far away, reckon. Better lay pretty low here. There's only two of us."

Late in the afternoon two tired but excited scouts found their way into camp and proceeded to disturb Mr. Newton in his afternoon study hour.

"Is it true that there's reward of five hundred dollars for the bank robbers?" one asked.

"I believe so," said Mr. Newton. "The sheriff himself and quite a few deputies are trying to earn it, too. They are covering this county and several neighboring counties, too."

"Sheriff out this way?" asked Chick-chick.

"He was in Buffalo Center this morning," replied Mr. Newton.

"We know where gang is, Mr. Newton. We want go right down get that reward, we do."

"The reward is for their apprehension, Henry. So you see you wouldn't get it, because, so far, you don't appear to have apprehended them."

Chick-chick's countenance fell, but he brightened again in a minute.

"We can do it all right, all right. Maybe better get sheriff help us."

He proceeded to tell Mr. Newton of their discovery.

"And you saw them so clearly you are quite sure they are the same men?"

"Yes, sir," replied Glen. "We located their camp by a line of smoke—leastways Chick-chick did. Then we climbed a big tree near by and looked right down on 'em. I saw Jervice and the big man, and one other man I never had seen before."

"What shall we do about this?" Mr. Newton asked of Will Spencer, who had been studying with him.

"Get 'em," replied Will, his eyes sparkling. "I wish I were more of a man, so I could help."

"Hold on, Will," said Mr. Newton, kindly. "You have just as good other work, you know. And wishing won't make you agile and active any more than it will make these boys into grown men. What's the wise thing to do?"

"You good, old scoutmaster!" exclaimed Will. "Of course you're right. You being the only real man here the thing to do is to see if that sheriff is still at Buffalo Center."

"But you ain't going to shut us out?" cried Glen and Chick-chick in unison.

Mr. Newton and Spencer laughed at their eagerness.

"You are big fellows, both of you," said Mr. Newton. "I've no desire to rob you of your glory or reward. You must come with me to see the sheriff, or perhaps you'd better go alone on Henry's motorcycle to save time. He will have to come this way to go after the men, and I've no doubt he will want you to show the way. Perhaps he'll let me go, too. Only no foolishness, remember—no attempt at single-handed captures—no stepping in the way of a piece of heavy artillery just to show that you bear a charmed life. After you've shown the way your job will be to stay in the background."

The sheriff was still staying at Buffalo Center's little hotel. Chick-chick was disappointed to find that he did not at all come up to his ideas of a sheriff. Glen whose dealings with sheriffs had not been so limited was not so surprised. The sheriff was so much like the other farmers lounging around the hotel office that they had to inquire for him. There was this much to say for him—he was not big, but he looked as if he might be quick and keen.

"Better come in here," said the sheriff, leading the way into the little parlor. "Now, tell me all about it."

Glen acted as spokesman, for Chick-chick was still quite excited.

"So you're the boys that got the car away from the peddler, are ye?" asked the sheriff. "I reckon ye ought to know the car an' the man too. You was expectin' to see this man Jervice, wasn't ye?"

"We were after we saw the car," Glen agreed.

"Now, don't ye reckon that mebbe, seein' the man at a distance like an' being as you was expectin' to see Jervice an' the big man, you might just imagined they was what you saw?"

"No, sir. It wasn't possible to be mistaken. We were near enough so we could both see the man very clearly."

"Well; this other fellow, now; the one you never had seen before? What did he look like?"

"Big man," said Chick-chick. "Over six foot. Black hair, no hair on his face. I got good look once and face was all one side like this, it was."

Chick-chick drew his face to one side in a peculiar manner. Mimicry was one of his talents.

"That's the feller," said the sheriff. "If you saw him that's the gang. That was Black Coventry to the letter. There ought to be two more of 'em and the gang would be complete. You can show us the way, can you?"

The sheriff had one of his deputies with him at the hotel. He deputized two active young farmers who were present and the four started on horseback following Chick-chick's motorcycle.

They found Mr. Newton waiting at the roadside near the camp. Chick-chick began an introduction but the sheriff interrupted.

"Oh, I know Captain Newton. Remember when ye was Captain of Battery A—let's see, twelve years ago, that was. Come along of us, Captain. Ye're just the man we need an' we're short handed, anyway."

"I've no horse," objected the scoutmaster.

"Jump up back o' me. It ain't so awful far f'm what these boys say. We'll have to foot it, anyway, for quite some distance, if we want to s'prise 'em."

When the place where the wood-road turned off was reached the sheriff decided to leave the horses.

"One o' you boys stay here now with the deputy an' help guard these horses," instructed the sheriff. "Which'll it be?"

"I guess it's Chick-chick's find," volunteered Glen. "I'll stay."

"Keep your eyes sharp open," the sheriff instructed his deputy. "If they'd get started afore we could get to their car they might slip by us. Then, there ought to be two more of 'em somewheres around, too. Might be comin' up any minute. They're slick."

After the men had gone Glen found it anxious work waiting with the deputy and the horses while Chick-chick led the sheriff's posse to glory.

"I suppose we'll hear 'em shooting most any minute," he said to the deputy.

"Mebbe we will—mebbe we won't," replied the deputy. "We won't if things go the way the old man intends."

"How is that?" asked Glen.

"There won't be any shootin' unless they's some break in his calc'lations. His way don't make much allowance for it. He'll get up there right silent an' have his men posted convenient; then he'll step out an' say 'Come along o' me, Coventry. No good fussin'. My men got ye dead to rights.' An' mos' generally they come."

"How about the other two men?" asked Glen.

"Mebbe they're there; mebbe they ain't. It was putty clever of 'em to hide right around here, knowing they was looked for all over the country."

"Don't you suppose they're staying here so as to look for that stuff in the cave?"

"We don't take much stock in that story," said the deputy. "We don't know that they is any cave. What they was after wasn't in no river bank, it was in the bank of Buffalo Center."

He appreciated his little joke and chuckled over it very heartily. His merriment, however, did not prevent him from being the first one to see a little group coming down the main road.

"Three of 'em!" he said. "One of 'em's from your camp. Who's the other two?"

"The scout is Matt Burton," said Glen. "The other two must be the engineers that he found camping down here. Say, I'll tell you something. They aren't engineers. What's the matter with them being the other two of Jervice's gang?"

"Nothing the matter at all," said the deputy. "Lay low now, and we'll get 'em. They're looking awful suspicious like at our tracks in the road. They don't understand 'em. If they break an' run you stay here with the horses an' I'll give 'em a chase."

"They've grabbed hold of Matt as if they were going to work some rough house play with him," said Glen. "Look what they're doing."

"They think he's sold 'em out," said the deputy. "They got a notion that he's leading 'em into something."

Just then Matt, who was not deficient in courage, made a lunge at one of the men, broke loose and started to run. He was overtaken in a minute by the other man who hit him such a blow as to stretch him full length in the dust of the road.

"Hold on there, hold on," the deputy counseled Glen. "You can't do anything chasin' after 'em. Just let 'em stay here till the sheriff gets back an' he'll pick 'em up easy. Now, take a holt o' this gun. You needn't shoot it, but it'll look better if you have one. I'm goin' to sneak up a piece and get back of 'em. I'll take this rope along an' mebbe I can git it over one of 'em. I won't be far behind 'em any time. You stay here with the hosses an' if they seem like to pass along without noticing don't you so much as cheep. All you got to do is mind the hosses."

When the two men, with Matt between them, reached the turn of the road and saw that the tracks led directly to the camp they came to a dead halt. Glen could now hear distinctly what they said.

"It's a frame up," declared one. "This kid thinks he's smart leading us into a trap. Back we go. Nobody won't draw on us, neither. You go first, Jack. I'll be right next to you with my hands on your shoulders. This smart kid'll foller me the same way. They won't nobody try no gun play for fear of hittin' the kid. Jest as soon as we git out of range we'll make a streak for it, an' the kid'll go with us."

The man spoke in a loud voice undoubtedly for the benefit of some person or persons who might be supposed to be within bullet range and be desirous of picking them off from ambush rather than risk a personal encounter. Perhaps he had heard some warning noise. He had not made so bad a guess, for a good marksman, concealed in Glen's position, would have had them at his mercy.

Glen watched the peculiar parade as the three walked back up the road at a lock-step gait that was quite fast for unpracticed performers. He would have been glad to give some word of encouragement to Matt for he still remembered the good turn of the day before. But his business was to watch over the horses. It would never do to betray their hiding place to these desperate men who might overpower him and be off before the deputy could reach them.



Where was that deputy?

He said that he would not be far behind the desperadoes at any time; but Glen had seen no sign of him since he slipped so quietly away with his long rope. He watched the marching figures going back along the road—farther away—farther yet. Soon they would be feeling safe out of range and would break and run.

Where was the deputy?

Glen found his answer even though he did not see his man. A long rope circled through the air. It fell neatly over the three close-locked heads and tightened suddenly as it dropped below their shoulders. There was a frantic struggle from the tied up trio and suddenly the deputy came into view belaying his rope to a tree.

Glen turned his eyes from this scene as he heard the noise of voices behind him. It was the sheriff's party returning. He waved his hand to them for speed and was glad to see the sheriff, Mr. Newton and Chick-chick start toward him on the run. The other members of the party were evidently convoying prisoners.

One of the men in the road had freed his hands but the deputy had persuaded him to put them above his head, and stood in the road guarding his capture as the relief party came up.

"So you got 'em?" exclaimed the sheriff. "That makes the haul complete. Our three below are coming along like lambs."

"These three," said the deputy, solemnly, "being trussed up the way they is, looks more like chickens."

"Loosen up on 'em," said Glen. "That one's a scout. You could easily tell he isn't one of 'em. Didn't you see the way they knocked him over?"

"Yes. He's a scout," confirmed Mr. Newton, coming up. "He has simply been deceived by these fellows, supposing they were honest men. I hope they haven't hurt you much, Burton."

"Hurt me!" cried Matt. "They were two to one and they knocked me down but they couldn't hurt me. Let me give this big fellow just one—"

"That'll do, young fellow," said the sheriff. "These men are in the hands of the law, now. They'll get whatever's coming to 'em."

It was a triumphant procession that wound its way back to town. Three of the prisoners were placed in their car which Chick-chick was called upon to engineer under the guardianship of the sheriff. This left Glen to ride the motorcycle alone. Still desirous to repay Matt's good turn he offered him passage but Matt preferred to ride the sheriff's horse. He was unable to understand or appreciate any friendly offers from Glen, for he felt that his share in the proceedings had been ludicrous if not contemptible and expected scant mercy from either Glen or Chick-chick. As a matter of fact, Glen would have been very glad to have his company, both that he might repay his good turn and that he might have the advantage of his experience in cycling, for Glen was a rank novice and found great difficulty in getting back to camp.

Chick-chick drove the car all the way to the little calaboose where the sheriff expected to confine the men until train time. The sheriff expressed himself under great obligations.

"I don't hardly know what to say about the reward, son," he said. "It'll have to split up a good many ways so there won't be an awful big slice for any one of us."

"I'll leave it to you," agreed Chick-chick, magnanimously. "Maybe you'd let me speak word to Jervice."

"Sure I will. You can talk a book into his ear if you like. But that ain't sayin' as he'll say anything to you."

The sheriff had guessed correctly. Mr. J. Jervice was singularly uncommunicative.

"What's meanin' of 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs'?" asked Chick-chick.

Mr. Jervice shook his head at such foolishness.

"You won't get any good out of it," insisted the inquisitive boy. "Give me your chart now and I'll use influence with Judge to get you easy sentence, I will."

Mr. Jervice shook his head and turned away.

"What's that young fool saying about 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs'?" asked the big leader.

Mr. Jervice muttered something in reply.

"You take it from me, young feller," said the man, angrily. "The thing you'd orter do is to git them names out o' your mind. They ain't no such places."

Chick-chick went back to receive the adulation of the camp but he was not satisfied.



CHAPTER XVIII

GLEN AND APPLE FIND THE CAVE

As might be expected, the excitement in camp that evening was intense. Chick-chick and Brick Mason were heroes. No one could do too much for them. Even Will Spencer was excited.

"It's a fine thing for you, Glen," he said. "I'm glad you had the chance and that you did so well with it. Mr. Newton says the sheriff will give you and the deputy full credit for the capture of the two fellows that came down with Matt."

"I'm mighty tickled," Glen admitted. "I don't think it'll amount to so very much, though, because there's so many will have to divide the reward."

"Brick, Brick, where did you get that head?" exclaimed Jolly Bill. "I'm not talking about the reward. Can't you see anything better than that?"

"Why, I don't know that I do. I'm afraid I never will be smart."

"Yes, you will. You're getting too much for me already. But, don't you see, old brick head, how much better chance this gives you to get your discharge from the reform school? 'Single-handed, he engaged in a terrific conflict with two desperadoes and delivered them into the hands of the officers of the law.' How does that sound? You begin to see where you get off?"

"Maybe so. All I did was to hold the horses, but I'll be glad of any credit that comes to me. I expected we'd hear from the school before now."

"Don't you fear but what you'll hear quick enough. Your friend who was here last Sunday is looking after your interests or they'd have yanked you back before now. I only hope they let you stay another week or two so you'll do me some good."

"I surely hope they do," said Glen. "I'm having such a fine time I wish it would go on forever. You think you'll get along all right while I go up the Mound to-night?"

"I'll be all right. Bob and I will keep the camp from running away. Maybe it'll rain again, like it did when you tried it Sunday night. You'll be mighty glad to get back to us if it does."

"No, we're going to stick it out to-night whatever happens," said Glen. "The fellows are going to take their ponchos and stay all night whatever the weather. Going clear to the top of Buffalo Mound. I'm going with Apple and he has a waterproof sleeping bag big enough for two. We're going to have a great time. I tell you, Will, this camp life with people like Apple and the scoutmaster and you is more like heaven than anything I ever dreamed of."

A great deal of satisfaction and joy had come into Glen Mason's life in the last few days. He felt it in the companionship of Apple and Chick-chick as they marched up Buffalo Mound together that night, carrying their firewood and blankets for the bivouac. There was a new bond of fellowship between them, a bond which Glen would have found it quite impossible to state in words but which was none the less genuine and fixed. The little service at the camp-fire meant more to him than anything he had ever experienced; he had really started his journey, he was definitely lined up with God's people, he had enlisted for actual service. In the few quiet minutes while he lay wrapped in his blanket waiting for sleep to come, and meanwhile looking up at the starry vault which seemed to him to represent God's heaven, he experienced the greatest peace that had ever come into his life.

Only hardened campaigners and boys can sleep the dreamless sleep of nature next to mother earth, with no soft mattress to pad the irregular outlines of bony prominences, and even boys are apt to waken earlier than common. So it is no wonder that daybreak found Glen and Apple glad to shake themselves free from their blankets and climb the few feet necessary to get the best of the justly celebrated view from Buffalo Mound. Miles and miles over the flat prairie country could they see in the clear morning air, and with the assistance of Mr. Newton's field glass they could draw far away objects very near to their field of vision. It was interesting to see the little towns, each with its two or three church spires, its one or two large buildings and its collection of dwellings; to see eight towns in six different counties from the same spot was an exciting experience for these boys.

But they did not get their real excitement until they turned their glass down the west side of the Mound, and there came in the range of their vision an Indian engaged in some mysterious occupation on the bank of Buffalo Creek.

"He's at the Ice Box," declared Apple. "Now what do you suppose that Indian's doing? Look at him dive."

"How can he stay under so long?" asked Glen, after they had watched two or three minutes without seeing a head appear.

"I can't tell you. Maybe he swam under water and has come up in some other place that we can't see."

But fully ten minutes later, while they still watched in great curiosity, his head came into sight at about the place where he had dived in, and a moment later they saw him draw his glistening body out of the water.

"Where's he been?" said Apple. "He hasn't been under water all that time."

"But neither did he come up anywhere that I could see," said Glen. "I know what's happened," he added in an excited tone. "He's been in the cave."

"I believe you," said Apple. "We guessed right. Ice Box and Deep Springs mean the same place. I don't know about any Twin Elms but that cave is there, at the Ice Box. I don't know why we never saw it, unless because it's on the far bank and we always looked this side."

"Maybe its entrance is under water," suggested Glen. "That Indian dived, you see, and we didn't see a sign of him again until he came back."

"That's the way of it, Glen. And that's the same Indian told us to look for heap rock. I believe—" it was the romantic side of Apple now appearing—"I believe he is the tribal guardian of the treasure and he stays around here to guard it from our search."

"Maybe so," agreed Glen. "Anyway if the treasure's there we'll soon know it. You think you can keep in your head the exact location where he dived?"

"Yes. It's just at the bend of the Ice Box. Right opposite on the other bank are those two old stumps—"

"Hold on," shouted Glen excitedly, seized with a great idea. "I'll bet you those are the stumps of elm trees—the Twin Elms."

"You're right, Glen. I'm sure you're right. I can hardly wait to find out."

"We don't want all the camp following us into this. When will be the best time to hunt for it?"

"What's the matter with right now?" suggested Apple. "It's only a little after five. Breakfast won't be called until eight. Father won't care where we go so long as we get to camp in time for breakfast."

"But the Indian! What will he be doing while we explore his cave?"

"He won't be there. He hiked through the timber, and he's less likely to be there now than he would be later on in the day."

"It's all right with me," declared Glen. "Now's as good as any time. We'll get our blankets and tell your father we will be at camp in time for breakfast."

When a couple of boys have a great secret which they have just discovered they are likely to overdo the secrecy of it. Glen and Apple made a wide detour through the fields and when they at last approached the Ice Box it was from an entirely different angle. Taking warning from the exposure of the Indian they took off their clothes in the shelter of some bushes and made a quick rush into the water.

"Be careful, now," warned Apple. "It's cold as ice and swift as the rapids. Must be some big springs around here."

But Glen was always at home in the water and needed no warning.

"Here it is, I'll bet," he cried. "Just under the ledge, you see. The opening's only about two feet wide and the space above water to the ledge isn't more than a foot and a half. That's why it's all covered up when the water's high. Come on. Let me go first."

Once inside this narrow passage they were indeed in a cave. For a few feet around the small opening daylight shone dimly in, but it was lost in impenetrable gloom above and to the rear. A mass of something dense loomed in front of them and Apple swimming boldly up declared, it to be a pile of stone.

"It's the heap stone the Indian spoke about, Brick," he shouted. "We've sure found it. Let's go back and get some lanterns and things."

Out in the broad light of day the romance did not seem quite so absolutely sure, and the nearer they drew to the camp the less positive did they become about their discovery.

"We wouldn't like the camp to have the laugh on us like they did on Matt," admitted Apple. "I guess we'd better make sure before we have very much to say about it."

"I reckon we had," Glen agreed. "We can keep it to ourselves for awhile without anybody carrying it away. That Indian couldn't carry it very far by himself. Once we are sure, then we can tell the whole camp. Wish we could find Chick-chick. We could tell him right now."

It was a hard thing to be discreetly silent until their opportunity for thorough search came, and fortunate that they had not long to wait. That very afternoon it rained and most of the boys stayed in camp. Chick-chick was still away on some mysterious errand. Glen and Apple appeared clad in bathing suits and tennis shoes.



"We don't mind the rain," Apple announced. "We are going out. Look for us when you see us."

They had already cached a couple of lanterns, a pick and two spades near the Ice Box and it was no trick at all to get them into the cave. With the lighted lanterns they could get a better idea of their surroundings. The floor of the cave was waist deep in water which seemed to rush on in a swift current and escape again into the creek through a counter opening a few feet away. The cave was quite long. It did not, as they supposed, have its beginning at the opening where they entered, but extended some distance back into the gloom, and as the current was quite swift back there it was evident that there were other hidden openings. The vault of the cave was high, so high that they could not see the top by the feeble light of their lanterns. But the thing that they could see and that thrust from their minds every other subject was a solid arch of masonry.

"I was right!" shouted Apple. "I was right! That's no natural formation. That has been built up by men's hands years ago. It's sure to be the hiding place of the treasure. What else could it be?"

"It couldn't be anything else," agreed Glen. "We'll mighty soon see. Get up to the top and I'll hand you the things."

"I'm up," said Apple. "Are you coming too?"

"Sure thing. The way to tear this down is a stone at a time beginning at the top."

"Let me have the pick, then."

"No, you hold the lantern and let me use the pick. I'm the biggest."

Splash! The first big stone disappeared in the water. Another splash and the second followed. But prying them loose was no easy job and they did not follow one after the other in the rapid succession the boys would have liked. In less than half an hour they decided that an enormous lot of work had been done in the effort to bury the treasure.

"We think this is pretty hard work getting these stones loose and pitching 'em down in the water," said Apple, reflectively, "but think of carrying all of 'em in from outside to build this."

"Perhaps there were more than two to do it," said Glen.

"Of course there were," said the more romantic Apple, his imagination stirred by the picture. "There was a small army of them. I can imagine I see them coming in here in a long procession each carrying his load, giving way to the next, and slipping away quietly in the gloom."

"Perhaps they didn't do that way at all," said Glen, the practical. "If you swing your lantern away up you can see that this cave has high ledges running away back. Perhaps they managed to get rock from some of those ledges."

"Perhaps they did. But it was hard work, anyway, and it's hard work breaking it up. But if we can just manage to do this just by our two selves, and then go back to the fellows and tell 'em we've found the treasure—"

"Say, that will be fine," agreed Glen.

Suddenly there was a splash at the entrance. "Hush!" said Glen. "Somebody's coming."

"It's the Indian!" he whispered, a sudden terror seizing him.

"Worse than that!" said Apple, as he saw the figure that minute outlined against the entrance. "Worse than that!" he repeated with a severity unusual in his gentle speech. "It's Matt Burton!"



CHAPTER XIX

BURIED IN THE CAVE

The two boys looked suspiciously at Matt as he advanced, but neither words of cheer nor resentment came to their Lips. A few days ago Glen's greeting would have been quick and stinging. His silence spoke well for the first lessons of self-control. Apple felt so keenly Matt's injustice to Glen that the cordiality which was his natural offering to good and bad alike was completely choked.

But another splash caused all three to turn their looks again to the entrance and in a moment another head bobbed in sight. It was Chick-chick this time.

"'Lo, fellers!" he called out cheerfully. "D'ye know it's rainin' in solid sheets outside. Jest had to get in out of it. Old Matt, he's follerin' you. I's follerin' Matt. He dived. I dived. 'Tain't much drier in here than outside but anyway ye don't need umbrellas. Mighty little bit of openin' ye came through there. Skinned me elbow, I did."

"Come up here, Chick-chick," invited Apple. "We can use you. It's dry up here. And I don't know why you came, Matt, but since you're here you might as well help, too."

"I came to see what you were doing," said Matt. "I knew you didn't go out of camp in your bathing suits just for nothing and anyway I wanted to see if I could track you."

"Didn't bring your bread-box 'long, did ye, Matt?" asked Chick-chick innocently.

"Maybe I'd have better luck finding things if I was a confederate of those that hid them."

Was Matt trying to intimate that Glen had found the cave because of some confederacy with the Jervice gang? Glen felt his anger rising.

"That's enough of that," said Apple. "If you fellows want to help you can take turns one on top and one in the water. Come on up, Chick-chick."

With four pairs of hands they made quicker progress. Both the additional workers were strong and active, and Matt especially was urged on by the desire to show that he could do as much or a little more than any one else. Suddenly he stopped in his work and looked about in evident perplexity.

"What's the matter?" asked Apple. "Too much cold water? Maybe you'd better get out of it for awhile."

"Yes, there's too much of it, and it's too cold too. But what's bothering me is why there's so much. It was up to my waist when I began work. Then I threw down a big rock a foot high and stood on it and now it's more than waist high again. It must be rising."

"I thought we were getting this pile pulled down awfully quick," said Glen. "That's what's made it. The water has risen up to cover it."

Chick-chick straightened himself up and looked around in the gloom. Then he lifted the lantern by the light of which he had been working and swung it far over his head.

"Where's the opening we came in at?" he shouted.

They all looked in the direction where they expected it to be but not even the faintest glimmer of daylight shone in to tell of an opening.

"Do you suppose we've worked away here so long that it has got to be dark without our knowing it?" asked Apple.

"No. 'Tisn't more'n an hour since Matt and I invited ourselves in," objected Chick-chick. "Wasn't much past four then."

"It's the rising water," said Matt. "I was so busy and it came up so gradually I didn't notice it. The creek must be rising from the heavy rain."

"Another thing is we've thrown so much rock and rubbish down there that we've probably choked up that outlet below. There's no sign of it now," observed Glen.

"Say, fellers, I'm gettin' homesick," said Chick-chick. "Let's get out o' here."

"All right for me, Chick-chick," said Apple. "I'm not much of a swimmer in the dark. You lead the way."

"Not for Chick-chick. I'm no water-witch nor a pathfinder, I ain't. 'Twouldn't do for humble bug-hunter to take such honor. Let Matt and Brick draw straws for it."

"I'm willing to try it," Glen volunteered.

"I'm not afraid of it," said Matt, his natural bravery pushing him to the front at such a crisis. "Let me try."

"I hold big rock in one hand an' little rock in t'other. Fellow that guesses big rock goes," said Chick-chick.

"Right!" said Matt.

"An' Brick guesses left," said Chick-chick for Glen. "Matt gets the try."

Matt waited for no counsel.

"I know just about where the opening lies," he said, stepping on the pile of masonry. "I'll dive clear through the passage."

With a quick spring he disappeared beneath the turbid water.

The boys waited an anxious minute, swinging their lanterns far out over the current. Suddenly Glen thrust the lantern he held into Apple's hand and made a quick jump into the swirl of waters. He was up in a moment with a heavy burden.

"It's Matt!" he cried. "I saw his hand sticking out of the water and jumped for it. He's hurt himself."

The boys were down by his side in a moment, Apple holding a lantern high above his head.

"We must get him up on one of those ledges," said Glen. "He's breathing, but he isn't conscious."

It would have been a hard task under ordinary circumstances, but in their excitement the three scouts made light work of it. One ledge shelved down toward the water making their ascent easier, and from there they managed to lift the injured boy still higher, well out of reach of the water.

Blood was pouring persistently from a wound in the scalp, but with his knowledge of "first aid" Apple was able to stop this quickly by making pressure. They had no bandage material of any description but they took turns in making pressure with their fingers until the blood seemed inclined no longer to flow and the wound showed a tendency to be covered by a firm clot. Matt came to himself for a few minutes, spoke a few half-conscious words and then drifted off again into quiet; but this time it seemed more like the quiet of sleep so they made no effort to disturb him.

"He must have hit his head against something pretty sharp when he dived," said Glen. "I'll go more carefully and just swim gently along the side where the opening ought to be and reach out with my hands for it."

But while they were attending Matt the water had made a very appreciable rise. It would scarcely be possible to feel along the edges now. The water was too high.

"I'll have to swim under water, fellows," said Glen.

"Don't ye do it, Brick," advised Chick-chick. "You don't want to chance Apple and me having to make another rescue, with Matt on our hands already."

"You won't have to make any rescue. I'll swim easily and feel well in front of me."

"I don't like you to try it," said Apple. "We'd be in an awful fix if anything happened to you. There's no danger of the water coming up on these ledges, and it's bound to go down when the rain is over and the creek drops."

"Cheerful lookout, waiting here for that," said Glen. "The folks at the camp will go crazy if we don't show up by night. I've got to get out to carry the news and get help for Matt."

He jumped into the water without further argument and soon they could dimly see him feeling his way along the edge of the cave. It seemed a terribly long time before he came back.

"Haven't found it yet," he said with an attempt at cheer. "It seems as if it ought to be easy enough to find a two foot opening but the top shelves down pretty sharp just there and the opening is now probably five or six feet from the surface. It's mighty discouraging to swim around under there and not find anything. I must rest up a bit."

"Why are you putting that light out, Chick-chick?" asked Apple.

"We c'n see jest's well with one as two, an' I've an idea we may need it wuss later on," replied Chick-chick, significantly.

"You're not getting scared, Chick-chick?" said Glen.

"No, I'm not gettin' scared. I'm just tryin' to use me thinker a bit. We got a boy here that may need 'tention. Won't do to be without light. You fellers got any matches?"

"Yes, I have some," said Apple. "I've kept 'em dry, too."

"All right, then. If Brick has to quit experimentin' in the water without findin' anything, we'll put out t'other light, too, an' just use 'em when we need 'em. This water's goin' to go down sooner or later, but while we have to wait a light when we need it will be awfully handy."

"I'm not through, yet," said Glen. "As soon as I find that opening I'll run to camp and get a rope, and we'll have you fellows out in no time. I've got marks outside to show me how to get back in all right."

Glen stayed away longer the next time, but he came back, shivering and exhausted.

"I'm afraid it's no good for awhile, fellows," he admitted. "Once I thought I had it but a big log barred the way. Then I thought I'd feel where the current rushed in strongest and try there, but it's strong everywhere."

Just then Matt stirred and tried to rise but was held back by Apple.

"My head aches!" he murmured. "I can't find it."

"All right, Matty, old boy. You did your best. Lie back and go to sleep."

"I've slept enough," he declared. "What's the matter? Didn't we get out of that cave?"

"No. But it's all right. We'll get out after awhile. You just lie back."

"I'm all right now. Let me up. I remember diving and that's all. Who pulled me out of the water?"

"It was Brick, and it's just as good you should know it," said Apple. "He saw your hand waving around and jumped for you."

"It was easy enough," said Glen. "The water was only about shoulder high then."

"I would have done it for you," said Matt. "But I don't know that you had any cause to do it for me. It makes me feel pretty small after I've been such a beastly prig. I'll get even with you some way but I don't know how. Let me try diving for that hole again."

"Too big hole in yer head," objected Chick-chick. "The water 'd wash all your brains out. Awful strong current down there."

"Better not stir much," counseled Apple. "There's quite a bad cut you've got on top and we had a time getting the bleeding stopped. If you move about much you're likely to unsettle the clot and start it again. Better lie still."

"But I'm not just going to lie down and die here. I want to get out."

"Easy now, Matt. You don't help us by acting that way and you won't help us if you get your head started again either. Look at that water. Brick's worked in it till he's just about all in. You can't do any better than he."

"Who says I can't?" he cried, bristling at once.

"I'd say you can't if 'twould do any good," replied Chick-chick. "That's no way to act at such time 's this. Ye ain't bein' like a man or a Christian. See, ye've started the blood again and it's trickling down your face. Now lie down."

In the face of such conditions Matt had sense enough to desist from further opposition. He lay down again and soon the bleeding stopped.

"Chick-chick," he said, in subdued tones. "I give you leave to kick me if I act the fool again."

"There wouldn't be any pleasure in it, now," said Chick-chick. "Hold your offer till we get t' camp if ye want t' please me. What I say is let's put all lights out and everybody go to sleep."

"Suppose the water comes up on us," objected Matt.

"It won't. It can't rise much higher'n the creek level an' we're way above it now. Let's go to sleep."

"I can't," Matt still objected.

"What's matter? Head hurt ye?"

"Not so much. And I don't mind it so bad when we're all awake talking, but I'm afraid to have us go to sleep."

"You 'fraid, Brick?"

"No," said Glen. "I'm too tired."

"You 'fraid, Apple?"

"No, I'm scared, but I'm not afraid. But I don't wonder so much at Matt. I know how I'd be if I didn't know God had a firm hold of me, right now. Let's sing a little."

He started a familiar camp song, and from one song they went to another. When they were singing "Where He leads me I will follow" Chick-chick held up his hand.

"Matt's asleep," he whispered. "I'll bet his head's made him 'bout half crazy. Hope he sleeps till morning."

How many hours they slept they could not tell, for there were no timepieces. They would rouse, turn over, and drop asleep again, for each one was determined to sleep away as much of the waiting time as possible. It was probably early morning when at last Glen arose, stretched himself and carefully lighted a lantern.

"It's going down, boys," he announced. "The opening isn't uncovered yet, but it's two or three feet lower than it was last night."

They were all wide awake now, and all leaned over the ledge to form their own opinion.

"The current seems to run differently," said Glen. "It acts as if the rock we threw in has stopped up the old outlet and it was running back of the heap we pulled down instead."

"Yes, sir. Strikes me just that way," said Chick-chick.

"I'm going to take the other lantern and explore a little," said Glen. "You fellows needn't come. I'll holler if I find anything."

He disappeared behind the ruined arch, swimming and wading, but he was back in a minute, all excitement.

"There's a regular passage out this way, fellows. Seems to go clear through the Mound. The water's rushing down in a torrent. Come and see."

They needed no invitation, for they were down before he finished speaking. Around the crumbled masonry he led them, and pointed to an opening like a natural tunnel which, seemed to lead far into the bowels of the earth.



CHAPTER XX

THE TREASURE OF BUFFALO LAKE

The cavernous opening into which the boys swung their lanterns in a vain attempt to penetrate its gloom seemed indeed to lead into the heart of Buffalo Mound. A muddy, turbulent stream was rushing down it at a tremendous rate, but there was room enough left to allow the passage of an agile boy, willing to bend himself double, and the water was not deep enough to be an obstacle.

"It may show us a way out," exclaimed Glen. "I'm bound to see where it goes. Who'll go with me?"

"We'll all go, Brick. You don't leave me behind in this dark cave, you don't," declared Chick-chick.

"How about your head, Matt?" asked Apple.

"It's good enough now," said Matt. "I'm sure going to be along on this."

With Glen in the lead they crept one after another along the narrow passage, Apple bringing up the rear and trailing behind him the cumbersome pick. At a place where the passage widened out into a roomy vault which gave space for them to stand erect Glen halted the little company and pointed onward to show how the tunnel, leaving this vault, suddenly seemed to narrow so that there was scarcely room for a head above water.

"It's going to be pretty risky here, fellows. I think we'd better go one at a time. I'll crawl as far as I can. If I don't come back while you count a hundred let Chick-chick crawl after me. If I'm stuck or choked he can pull on my feet and pull me back. Then Matt can do the same for him and Apple for him. I'll either get through or be back by the time you count a hundred."

It seemed a long count, and it was hard for them to keep from unseemly hurry. At ninety Chick-chick got down on his knees in the tunnel and as Apple said "One hundred" he disappeared. Matt and Apple counted again and this time it was Matt who disappeared, and Apple was left alone. But he stuck bravely to his counting until another hundred was numbered, then he pushed his pick ahead of him and crawled into the passage, his head scraping the top, his lips scarcely an inch above the swiftly moving water. It seemed a long time before the passage widened, but there were no obstacles, and in a little while he crawled into a larger space where the three dripping boys were waiting for him.

"There's a light away on ahead," announced Glen. "I believe it's daylight."

It was almost a race after that. Nothing was considered in their mad rush, and at every turn the light ahead became clearer until Glen, still in the lead, made a turning and gave a great shout. The next moment all of them could see unmistakable daylight shining through a small opening.

Glen was lying at full length in the stream, trying to enlarge the opening with his hands, when they reached him.

"It's Buffalo Hollow!" he cried. "We've come clear through the Mound. This opening isn't big enough to let any of us in or out, but the water's going out in a good stream now, and soon it will make Buffalo Lake."

Apple's pick was brought into use and with its aid the boys made the opening large enough to scramble through one after the other.

It was scarcely break of day; the sun was just showing signs of rising for his daily task. Oh, how good it felt to be out there in full liberty, able to look around and see all the beautiful things of God's creation; how good to be able to stand erect and stretch out every muscle. Apple had scarcely found his feet before he was off at breakneck speed in the direction of the camp.

"He wants his father should know he's safe," explained Chick-chick, as they looked after the flying figure. "Come on, Brick. They'll be worrying about us, too. You better keep close, Matt. Your head might go bad, it might."

Apple was the center of an excited crowd of scouts for there had been no sleep in camp that night. Already they were wigwagging the news of the discovery.

"There's a big smoke all ready to be started on top o' the Mound," explained a scout. "Soon as they get our message they'll start it and then everybody will know and they'll all come in."

Almost as he spoke the signal shot out its flames and smoke and in less than twenty minutes the scoutmaster was folding his son in his embrace and wildly shaking the hands of his lost scouts.

Glen was not there. He had gone quietly into the tent where he had expected to find his friend Spencer.

"Good old scout!" cried Will, as he wrung his hand. "You've been giving me more worry than all the rest of my children put together, but I forgive everything now you have returned. Wherever you've been I hope this will be a lesson to you and you'll never go treasure hunting again."

Glen's reply was startling.

"There is no need," he said. "The treasure is found!"

"Found again!" shouted Spencer. "Where? In a bread-box?"

"No, sir. No bread-box this time. Found in the heart of Buffalo Mound. It is pouring into Buffalo Hollow now and by this time to-morrow there will once more be a Buffalo Lake!"

* * * * *

With the crowd of people who came from town to see the marvel of the refilling of Buffalo Lake was a skillful surgeon. He examined Matt's scalp-wound.

"I can fix that up with the aid of the scoutmaster's first aid kit," he announced. "You'll need a few stitches but I guess you are man enough to stand that."

"I can stand it," said Matt. "But have all the fellows go away so they won't hear me if I holler."

"All but one or two," agreed the doctor. "I'll need one or two boys to hold things."

"Use the fellows who were with me, then!" asked Matt. "They know just about how foolish I can be so it won't be anything new to them."

The doctor laughed.

"That's the way heroes talk sometimes," he said. "I'm glad to hear you say it."

"They know all about me being a hero," said Matt. "But they know I learned something in that cave."

"All ready, now," said the doctor. "You hold the bowl," he said to Apple. "And now that you have scrubbed your hands you may hold this pan of instruments," he said to Chick-chick. "And I guess we haven't anything for you to hold," to Glen.

"He's going to be the anesthetic," said Matt. "Take hold of my hands, Brick, and if I holler, punch me."

It was the first time he had addressed Glen by the name which had become so familiar to the others, and both knew that in the word all differences were swept away.

That day there was great rejoicing all through the camp at the return of the lost boys, great rejoicing at the success that seemed sure to come to the plans of Jolly Bill Spencer, and mingled with the rejoicing an underlying vein of excited speculation whether a close search of the cave would not disclose the ancient treasure of bullion or at the very least some booty stored there by the robber band.

Tom Scoresby again headed a delegation to approach the scoutmaster for permission to explore the cave.

"What do you think?" asked Mr. Newton. "Who has first right there—who are the discoverers?"

"Apple and Brick and maybe Chick-chick and Matty," replied honest Tom. "But I reckon they wouldn't want to keep us out."

"It isn't my cave," disclaimed Matt, who sat there with his head swathed in bandages. "I just butted in. I got all that was coming to me."

"'Tain't mine," said Chick-chick. "But if there's any treasure I want some, I do."

Glen and Apple only laughed, but Mr. Newton felt that he could speak for them.

"This is Sunday, boys," he declared. "No one will run away with that cave over night. I don't think that Indian will be back in a hurry. Tomorrow, after camp drill, all first class scouts—the good swimmers—may explore the cave. Mr. Spencer claims the water rights. All bullion and other treasure found and not claimed by the authorities will be shared alike by all in the camp."

Monday morning found the whole camp at the Ice Box. The stream still was high so that it was no easy matter to gain access to the cave, but no scout who had passed the swimming test for "first class" thought of shirking the attempt. Mr. Newton himself led the way and Glen and Apple were not far behind.

The many lights relieved the pitchy darkness of the cave enough to show the high ledges that ran still further back into the gloom.

"We will explore these ledges one at a time," said Mr. Newton. "Let every scout make sure of his footing before he steps. Don't get excited."

Alas! there was unfortunately little to create excitement. Farm products—potatoes—bacon—several suits of clothes—old pipes—several tools—pieces of chain—bottles that once had held liquor—even an old straw hat; but of treasure that could create even a moment's excitement there seemed to be none.

"I know who brought this collection here," said Apple. "The Indian! It's his treasure house all right, and that's why he went in here that morning."

"That's all right," said Tom Scoresby, "but there ought to be a lot of real treasure around here. If no bullion, anyway there ought to be the bank robber's stuff."

But all their searching was of no avail. When they returned through the narrow opening they went empty handed.

Waiting on the bank with the younger boys was Matt Burton. He had not been allowed to enter the cave for fear that the swim under water might infect his wound. He was greatly disappointed at their failure and, since characteristics do not change over night, it is not surprising that he had a very strong opinion that if their party had been increased by just one member the result would have been different. Let this be said of Matt—he tried to conceal this feeling.

"Where d'ye look, Brick?" he asked.

"We explored every ledge and went into places that grown men couldn't have squeezed through."

"Did you dig?"

"There isn't much chance to dig. The inside of the cave is a shale that no one could dig into. It would have to be blasted."

"Then there must have been some holes or something—oh, say, did you lift up that shelf of rock we lay on that night?"

"No, we didn't find any loose rock to lift."

"That rock was loose. I remember how it seemed to tip when we moved. In all I've read about treasure there never was any left just on top of the ground, except in Treasure Island, and even that was buried until Ben Gunn carried it to the cave. I'd like to look under that rock."

"We'll go back with you, Matty," chorused a dozen scouts, only too glad of further exploration.

"Mr. Newton, the water's gone down so much I'm sure I can get through without wetting my head. Please let me try it," begged Matt.

"If ye don't he'll be so excited his brains'll spill out o' that gash, they will," urged Chick-chick.

"I'll give him all the help he needs," offered Glen.

"I'll go along myself," said Mr. Newton. "I guess we can manage him between us."

So back the whole expedition went convoying Matty to the cave. He led them straight to the ledge of rock and the stamp of a foot was enough to show its lack of balance.

The boys were greatly excited—even Mr. Newton showed immense interest.

"Use the pickaxes to pry, boys. Get under these loose corners," directed the scoutmaster. "Tom and Glen, you two are the strongest—one at each corner now."

The broad slab of rock started easily enough at their energetic effort. A seam appeared to widen—a crack was disclosed—there followed space sufficient to allow a hand to be inserted and then a dozen willing scouts helped with the lift. In a couple of minutes the big slab was thrown over with a crash, and below appeared a cavity that was evidently the work of men's hands.

Dark as Erebus was the interior, baffling the peering eyes of the scouts, until Mr. Newton, hanging a lantern on each point of a pickax, dangled it into the depths. A vault some four or five feet deep and running far back into the cave was disclosed. It was partly filled with an assortment almost as miscellaneous as the treasure left on the ledges by the Indian; a riding saddle, an old coat, several pieces of artillery, some tools which may have been accessory to the trade of burglary, and scattered among these things many articles of personal property which, were undoubtedly of great value.

But the thing upon which the eyes of the scouts rested with greatest interest was a metal box, probably secured from some bank, which rested conspicuously on the top of the plunder.

"Matt and Glen get first selection," said Mr. Newton. "It's their find, whatever it is."

"Well take the box," said the boys.

Although not of great size the box was rather heavy, but its handling was no task for two such athletes. To the great disappointment of all it was locked.

"Never mind," said Mr. Newton. "We will open it when we get to camp. Now the rest of you take each what you can carry. Bear in mind that the question of property rights in this discovery is not to be considered at present. That will come later. All we do now is to carry it to camp."

They made a queer procession as they came one by one through the small opening. Matt and Glen came first pushing their box ahead of them on the raft which had been used in bringing over their tools and lanterns. The scouts who followed in their wake found it no easy matter to keep their treasure clear of the water as they crossed the swift little stream.

"These robbers chose safe place for their plunder all right, all right," said Chick-chick to Apple, "but mighty inconvenient, it is."

"I don't see why they did it," Apple replied. "They ought to have rented a safety deposit box in some bank."

From the other bank their passage was watched not only by the excited group of younger scouts but by three new arrivals. They were the sheriff, a deputy and Mr. J. Jervice.

"The kids has found the loot," exclaimed Mr. Jervice. "They're bringing it over now."

"I guess I'll have to take care o' that stuff for you, Cap," said the sheriff to Mr. Newton.

"It's just as you say," replied Mr. Newton. "We would hardly have known the proper thing to do with it. But I want to notify you that if there is any reward for its recovery we claim it."

"We'll see you get it," said the sheriff. "This man Jervice tells us that there's a lot o' valuable bonds and securities in the box. That's what they was down here after, mostly. Jervice thought we'd let him off if he gave the story away to us. The old gang got the location of the cave from an Indian, but Jervice couldn't find the Indian."

"The Indian's gone," said Mr. Newton. "I doubt if he ever comes back. There's a lot of stuff in the cave yet and you'd better get a boat and a wagon. Some of the scouts will help you."



CHAPTER XXI

WHAT BECAME OF THEM

The morning of the fourth day found the water still flowing into the lake in a steady stream.

"It's a sure thing now," said Spencer. "I must get to town and arrange to close up those options and organize the Buffalo Lake Summer Colony. I'm not going to tell you how much I expect to clear on this deal, but your share won't be less than a thousand dollars."

"It will be enough to buy mother a home!" said Glen.

"That's the thought, boy. And we'll see if we can't get you paroled from the school so you can live at home and work for her. I'm going back with you to the school, myself, but I believe that war-correspondent friend of yours has matters moving already."

The war-correspondent friend, taking an unusual interest in the case, had been doing his best, but he had found it a case of many complications. That very day, however, he had received an official communication of favorable tone from his friend, the Superintendent.

"The Board of Control," wrote the Superintendent, "finds in the case of Glen Mason some very unusual and delicate features. It is not the desire of the Board to reward a boy for running away by granting him an unconditional parole. Neither is it their desire to keep in the institution a boy who has been found worthy of parole privileges. In this case the boy voluntarily offers to return. Not only so but he has undergone such a transformation that he returns as a reformed character. Furthermore he has rendered a service to the State in assisting in the apprehension of two dangerous characters. Added to all this he is greatly needed at home for the support which a boy of his age and intelligence can give to his mother. In consideration of all these things the Board is inclined to grant a parole subject to the usual conditions."

In a personal note which accompanied this letter the Superintendent made a few additional remarks to his old friend.

"Another rather unusual element is that Mason's running away has been altogether too well done. He has been too fortunate. Usually such a boy would get into bad hands and go from bad to worse. It would never do for us to have him back at the school telling about all his good times and how he was to have a thousand dollars for his part in discovering this wonderful lake about which you phoned me this morning. Every boy in the school would be keen to try the adventure. I am glad for Glen that he has surrendered his life to God's guidance and I know that he has found the one real, safe way of life. So I surrender him gladly, and I feel sure that you and Mr. Newton will not forget your promises of guidance and support."

Glen went home with Will Spencer to stay with him while he wound up his business affairs and disposed of his options on the Buffalo Lake property to a syndicate.

"I'm going to take you out to see an old friend, Glen," said Spencer one day. "I still have a great deal of business to care for before I can go away. You know I want to go to that famous hospital, where, if they can't make a whole man of me, they will make me look and walk like one just the same. I can't go yet, but I have something planned for you right this very day. It's a surprise."

They traveled along a road that was vaguely familiar and after a few miles Glen recognized that they were drawing near the Gates' home. They were evidently expected, for the whole family ran out to greet them.

"It seems mighty good to get back here," said Glen. "I wish I could stay as long as I liked but I must get away and finish that trip home that I told you I was making."

"Would you like to stay here, Glen?" asked Mr. Gates.

"I surely would," replied Glen.

"Would you like to stay and work with me and learn how to run a farm?"

"I don't know anything I'd like better."

"Step out here into the road with me. Do you see that cottage at the corner? It was empty when you were here. It is a tenant cottage which I rent to the man who works for me. Yesterday there moved into there a very nice lady with a little girl and a little boy. There is an older brother whom they are expecting, who is coming here to work for me. Run—"

But he did not need to tell Glen to run along. Ever since he had been given a new heart and a new life he had felt a yearning for the mother of whom he had been so unworthy. He wanted to tell her that he was a different boy, to show her that he was worthy of trust, to shoulder her burdens, to relieve her of responsibilities, to turn the bitter years into sweet. He did not run, but he walked with a swift and steady gait, with erect head and a clear resolve in his heart. After all he was coming home triumphant, a victor, one who had sought treasure and found it, one who had found the greatest riches of God's mercy.

* * * * *

Mr. Gates was not a hard man to work for. Glen became more and more convinced of this as the days went by, but the crowning proof came one year later when the kind employer ordered him to drop his work and take a week's vacation at the Scout camp at Buffalo Lake.

Glen planned a great surprise, but some one gave his secret away for he was met at the station at Buffalo Center by the entire troop. Chick-chick jumped up on the steps before the train stopped and at peril of life and limb pulled him off the train into the receptive arms of Apple and Matt. Big Tom Scoresby gave him grip for grip in a mighty scout handshake—the only scout who could match him. Goosey hung on to his elbow waiting for his turn. All affectation of reserve disappeared on this great occasion—the greeting of Brick Mason—his welcome to camp—good old Brick! Glen was glad to shake hands with Mr. Newton for a good long minute so that he might wink back the suspicious moisture that threatened to rush past the guardian eyelashes.

"Brick rides on my old motor-bike," exclaimed Chick-chick. "Same old bike—it is."

"Brick walks with the troop," Glen decided. "Where did we get this dandy road?"

"Built by the Buffalo Lake Summer Colony," explained Apple. "Do you notice all the new stores in town—all because of the Colony? Wait until you get to the Lake and you'll see something worth while."

A few minutes later Glen stood before Troop Three's splendid new club-house in appreciative silence.

"Do you see what we've named it?" said Matt, patting him on the shoulder. "Look up over the porch."

Carved in ancient script were the words:

YE BREAD BOX

"And you don't object to that?" asked Glen, looking into Matt's face.

"I object?" exclaimed Matt. "It's a compliment. I've learned to take a joke as well as give one. We named it because the money that built it was our share of the reward for the box in the cave, and the second box was a lot like the first box only different."

"Different inside an' out," put in Chick-chick. "Jus' like old Matty is, it was. Good old Bread Box. Go on in an' see what's inside, Brick."

"All right," Glen agreed. "Lead the way."

"Don't be 'fraid, Brick. Go in all your own self. It's a surprise."

Cautiously Glen pushed open the handsome door and stepped inside. Nothing happened. He looked around the spacious room with its home-like accommodations and its air of easy comfort. From a chair by the window a gentleman arose and started leisurely toward him. Glen covered the intervening space in two jumps.

"Will!" he shouted. "Will Spencer! Look out—you'll fall!"

"Never more, you good old scout," said Jolly Bill, as he flung a strong arm around Glen's broad shoulders. "I can walk as gracefully as you if not as powerfully. I'm all O. K., warranted not to slip or stumble, ready to give a Castle Cakewalk or an imitation of a Highland fling at a moment's notice. What do you think of your new home?"

"Splendid!" replied Glen. "Too fine for a scout camp, though. It makes it too easy."

"And the easy life isn't the best life is it, you hard old Brick? But Mr. Newton understands that. This isn't the camp—just the club-house. You'll find the camp a half mile up Buffalo Creek as wild as ever, and do you know what they've named it this year?"

"I give it up," said Glen.

"It's named in honor of the scout who has done most with his opportunities this year."

"It's Burton, then," Glen guessed.

"You have another guess coming yet," said Jolly Bill. "They've named it Camp Mason!"

* * * * *

Now if you want to follow the further adventures of Glen and his scout chums you will find them recorded in another book "Boy Scouts to the Rescue."

FINIS

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THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES

Published with the approval of The Boy Scouts of America

In the boys' world of story books, none better than those about boy scouts arrest and grip attention. In a most alluring way, the stories in the BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES tell of the glorious good times and wonderful adventures of boy scouts.

All the books were written by authors possessed of an intimate knowledge of this greatest of all movements organized for the welfare of boys, and are published with the approval of the National Headquarters of the Boy Scouts of America.

The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. F. K. Mathiews, writes concerning them: "It is a bully bunch of books. I hope you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are the sort that will help instead of hurt our movement."

THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS—CRUMP THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP—McCLANE THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS—CHELEY THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS—LERRIGO BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT—WALDEN BOY SCOUTS COURAGEOUS—MATHIEWS BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE—LERRIGO BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL—GARTH THE BOY SCOUTS IN AFRICA—CORCORAN

BARSE & HOPKINS PUBLISHERS New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J.

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THE CAMP FIRE BOYS SERIES

By OLIVER LEE CLIFTON

For Boys from 8 to 14

A group of resourceful boys living in a small town form a camping and hiking club, which brings them all sorts of outdoor adventures. In the first story, "At Log Cabin Bend," they solve a series of mysteries but not until after some lively thrills which will cause other boys to sit on the edge of their chairs. The next story telling of their search for a lost army aviator in "Muskrat Swamp" is just as lively. The boys are all likable and manly—just the sort of fellows that every other wide-awake boy would be glad to go hiking with.

THE CAMP FIRE BOYS AT LOG CABIN BEND THE CAMP FIRE BOYS IN MUSKRAT SWAMP THE CAMP FIRE BOYS AT SILVER FOX FARM THE CAMP FIRE BOYS' CANOE CRUISE. THE CAMP FIRE BOYS' TRACKING SQUAD

BARSE & HOPKINS Publishers

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THE BOBBY BLAKE SERIES

BY FRANK A. WARNER

BOOKS FOR BOYS FROM EIGHT TO TWELVE YEARS OLD

True stories of life at a modern American boarding school. Bobby attends this institution of learning with his particular chum and the boys have no end of good times. The tales of outdoor life, especially the exciting times they have when engaged in sports against rival schools, are written in a manner so true, so realistic, that the reader, too, is bound to share with these boys their thrills and pleasures.

1 BOBBY BLAKE AT ROCKLEDGE SCHOOL. 2 BOBBY BLAKE AT BASS COVE. 3 BOBBY BLAKE ON A CRUISE. 4 BOBBY BLAKE AND HIS SCHOOL CHUMS. 5 BOBBY BLAKE AT SNOWTOP CAMP. 6 BOBBY BLAKE ON THE SCHOOL NINE. 7 BOBBY BLAKE ON A RANCH. 8 BOBBY BLAKE ON AN AUTO TOUR. 9 BOBBY BLAKE ON THE SCHOOL ELEVEN. 10 BOBBY BLAKE ON A PLANTATION. 11 BOBBY BLAKE IN THE FROZEN NORTH. 12 BOBBY BLAKE ON MYSTERY MOUNTAIN.

BARSE & HOPKINS New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J.

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By BURT L. STANDISH

Endorsed by such stars of baseballdom as Christy Mathewson, Ty Cobb and Walter Johnson.

An American boy with plenty of grit—baseball at its finest—and the girl in the case—these are the elements which compose the most successful of juvenile fiction. You don't have to be a "fan" to enjoy these books; all you need to be is really human and alive with plenty of red blood in your veins.

The author managed a "Bush League" team a number of years ago and is thoroughly familiar with the actions of baseball players on and off the field. Every American, young or old, who has enjoyed the thrills and excitement of our national game, is sure to read with delight these splendid stories of baseball and romance.

Cloth Large 12 mo. Illustrated

1 LEFTY O' THE BUSH. 2 LEFTY O' THE BIG LEAGUE. 3 LEFTY O' THE BLUE STOCKINGS. 4 LEFTY O' THE TRAINING CAMP. 5 BRICK KING, BACKSTOP. 6 THE MAKING OF A BIG LEAGUER. 7 COURTNEY OF THE CENTER GARDEN. 8 COVERING THE LOOK-IN CORNER. 9 LEFTY LOCKE, PITCHER-MANAGER. 10 GUARDING THE KEYSTONE SACK. 11 THE MAN ON FIRST. 12 LEGO LAMB, SOUTHPAW. 13 THE GRIP OF THE GAME. 14 LEFTY LOCKE, OWNER. 15 LEFTY LOCKE WINS OUT.

BARSE & HOPKINS Publishers

New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J.

THE END