It was growing dusk when the motor boat reached its old anchorage. The
hungry lads set themselves at work getting supper at once, and Alex and
Case volunteered to bring in fish! Clay and Don had made such a mess of
their fishing expedition that the boys roared when a fish supper was
mentioned.
“If we didn’t get fish,” Clay replied to their taunts, “we got something
more valuable! I guess that iron box is worth more than a fish!”
“I don’t see as it is,” Tom grunted. “No one can get it open!”
“There ain’t no place to open it!” Alex complained. “I believe it is
just a solid block of metal. It is heavy enough to be that!”
Case and Alex went ashore and followed down the bank, dropping lines
into deep pools until they were out of sight of the _Rambler_. In the
meantime Frost and King stood regarding the iron box. Indeed, there
seemed to be no way of opening it. While they contemplated the puzzle a
hail from shore was heard, and directly a man sprang aboard, the
_Rambler_ having been drawn close to the bank because of the loss of the
rowboat.
“This is the sheriff,” King explained, as the boys regarded the newcomer
with suspicion. “I presume he has news of Flint and Ike.”
“They confessed about as soon as they were placed under arrest,” the
sheriff began, “and each one lays all the blame on the other. It seems
that they knew from David Durand himself that articles of value would be
left for his nephews to find, and ever since his death they have been
looking for the treasure. They believed it to be a mine.”
“And they have been living in the old house?” asked Don.
“Yes, most of the time.”
“Then they weren’t far from something that was hidden,” the boy
declared. “This box was secreted in the wall.”
“What is in it?” asked the officer.
“We don’t know. We can’t open it!” was the discouraged reply.
“But there must be a key somewhere,” the sheriff said.
“There isn’t even a keyhole,” Don grinned. “It’s shut tight!”
“Well,” the officer went on, “Flint and Ike have confessed, and they
will be hanged. That is what I came here to tell you. The body of the
dead man will be buried near the old mine, if that is satisfactory to
you all,” he continued. “He was a crook, too, wasn’t he?” he added.
“For years he was,” the banker replied, “but at last he came to his
senses and offered to help me in restoring the dead man’s fortune to his
nephews. He employed King—the man you made a deputy at my request—to
assist in finding the boys, after Don took the handbag and got away. He
came out here to help solve the mystery of the mine. He had the third
paper at one time, but returned it to me.”
“David Durand found strange hiding-places for his money!” the sheriff
mused. “Think of the bonds in the old house, and this box in the cave. I
have been thinking of the queer old chap ever since Mr. King told me
about him. It is a wonder the bonds were ever found—and the old wallet!
What a place for property!”
“There’s a letter somewhere which explains everything!” Don insisted.
“It wasn’t in the wallet, was it?” asked King. Don shook his head, and
Clay brought out the wallet to prove it.
“Here’s some banknotes,” he said. “They will have to be sent in for
redemption, they’re so rotten, and this thin piece of steel. That’s all
there is in here. Look and see for yourselves.”
While they were examining the wallet and the half-rotten banknotes. Clay
stood with the key in his hand, looking at it thoughtfully. In a moment
he walked over to the iron box and began an inspection of that. He felt
over every part of the surface several times before his fingers came to
a little perturbance.
Then, in a moment he had the key pushed into a slit of a hole which had
been brought to view by the removal of a small plug-like piece of metal
which had been set into the body of the box. He moved the key this way
and that for a moment, and then there came a sharp click. The top of the
box, working on rusty springs, flew back, revealing a mass of papers,
with a sealed envelope lying on top.
They all gathered around while Don, to whom the letter was addressed,
opened the message from his dead uncle. The writing was very brief. It
said:
“If you find this the bonds belong to you and Tom. There are more bonds
in the strong room at the old house in Yuma. I have given you all the
trouble I could think of, my boy, before delivering my property into
your hands. I don’t think it good for boys to get money easily. If this
box is never found until the bonds have rotted, then so much of the
government debt will have been paid. If you should ever get locked in
the Yuma treasure room, the key to the iron door is in the wall-safe
with the bonds. From your cranky uncle.”
“That is all!” Don said, slowly. “And we might have gotten out of that
cellar if we had only looked closer into the wall-safe!”
“A strange old man!” mused the banker. “He never provided for Don and
Tom, personally, yet he interested me in them. He trusted Trumbull
instead of me—unless Trumbull stole the two papers which were in the
handbag with the money!”
“He did steal them!” King declared. “Don knew he had stolen them, for
his uncle had, in a measure, told him about them. When Trumbull
mentioned papers revealing the location of a mine in the Grand Canyon,
Don knew of course. I presume, however, that David thought Don would
have the two papers, so he gave me the third one, which Trumbull stole
and afterwards returned!”
“It has been a great muddle!” Clay laughed, “and we came along with the
_Rambler_ just in time to get mixed up in it.”
“Look in the packages,” the banker advised, “and see how much of a
fortune you have. The letter speaks of bonds.”
There were in the iron chest government bonds to five times the value of
those found in the treasure room at Yuma, so Don and Tom were very
wealthy boys.
“We are always finding wealth for others!” laughed Clay, “but none for
ourselves! However, we are planning to take a trip down the Mississippi
next, and we may have better luck there! But here come the boys with
plenty of fish, and we’ll have supper right away!”
And such a supper as they had! All the precious dainties the lads had
been hoarding for some such event were brought out, and there was
feasting until a late hour. Captain Joe and Teddy had their full share
of the good things, and the dog was forgiven for permitting himself to
be doped by Flint! If he could have talked he would have explained that
the drug was eaten in a very fine piece of meat, and would have added
that he would never more take food from a strange hand!
“By the way,” the sheriff said, as he arose to go, “with the arrest of
Flint and Ike the ghost of the Grand Canyon is laid! They have been
playing ghost a long time to keep people away from the supposed mine.”
Then Alex explained how he had found the white wrappings they had worn,
and also the black head coverings, in the closet at the old shack.
“And now, can we get up any farther?” asked Clay, as the lads were
preparing for sleep. “Is this the end of navigation for us?”
“You can’t have any fun in going on,” Don declared. “It would be a great
task to get the motor boat up farther.”
“Then we’ll turn back,” Clay decided, “and see if we can find as much
excitement in the down trip as we did in the up trip!”
“I don’t see how you can!” Don laughed. “You won’t have the two trouble
makers with you, for Tom and I have decided to go back to Chicago with
Mr. Frost, and meet you there later.”
“If you boys don’t mind,” King said, “I’d like to go down the Colorado
with you. I’m in need of just such a loafing spell.”
The permission was given, and the next morning, after Frost, Don, and
Tom had climbed to the plateau and started away to the nearest railroad
station, the _Rambler_ was gotten under way, and the down trip begun.
It was a glorious river trip. The desert shone and glistened in the sun,
the mountains laughed from under their white caps, the river sang its
everlasting song of peace and quiet!
The boys took a month to reach Yuma. There the _Rambler_ was placed on
board a platform car and started on its journey eastward. It was the
plan to ship the motor boat to as near the head waters of the
Mississippi as possible and sail down that mighty stream in the early
fall.
An account of this exciting trip will be found in the next volume of
this series, entitled:
“The Motor Boat Boys on the Mississippi; or, the Trail to the Gulf!”
THE END