“But we have no intention of going now,” Dick enlightened him. “We merely wish to pay you in advance.”
The Frenchman’s dark face brightened. He watched Dick reach in his pocket and pull forth a huge roll of bills. At sight of it, his eyes gleamed and sparkled with envy.
“If you weesh, monsieur. But et ees not necessary. Ze amount ees twenty dollars for ze three of you.”
Dick fondled the heavy roll, slowly peeling off the required amount. He was watching the roadhouse keeper and noticed with satisfaction the effect the money had upon him. To his surprise, Frischette said:
“Ees not monsieur leetle careless to carry roun’ so ver’ much money? Are you not afraid zat thief will take et or else you lose et from your pocket?”
Dick pooh-poohed the idea, laughed, and with a sly look at Sandy, thrust the roll carelessly in the inside pocket of his coat. Frischette followed every move. His eyes seemed to burn into Dick’s pockets. A look of greed so transformed his features that for a time Dick could scarcely believe that this was the genial, obliging host of the previous afternoon.
When he had received the twenty dollars, Frischette had found it necessary to put down the square box, containing his treasure. He had placed it on the table at his elbow with his right arm flung out across it. Not once did he move from this position. While Dick was carrying out his part of the prearranged plan, Sandy also was busy. He moved to the opposite side of the table, in order to get a better view of the box. What he wanted to find out was whether or not it was locked.
Not until Frischette was in the act of picking up the box, preparing to go, was Sandy able to determine about the lock. A key would not be necessary. The small but formidable-looking chest could easily be opened. Sandy smiled to himself.
All that remained to be done now, he reasoned, was to follow Frischette and learn where he kept his treasure. Then, when the opportunity arose, they would ransack the box. It would not take long to solve the mystery surrounding Dewberry’s priceless poke.
To follow a man through Arctic twilight, to slink from tree to tree and cover to cover, to keep hid always and make very little sound—is not an easy accomplishment. At least, the three boys found that it was not. They stole stealthily along about fifty yards behind Frischette, attempting to keep within that distance, neither advancing too quickly nor too slowly.