Sheba trudged behind him. She was full
of wonder at what he meant to do, but she asked no questions. Some wise
instinct was telling her to do exactly as he said.
From the sled he took a shovel and gave it to the young woman. "Dig just
this side of the big rock--close to the root of the tree," he told her.
Sheba dug, and at the second stroke of the spade struck something hard.
He stooped and pulled out a sack.
"Open it," he said. "Rip it with this knife."
She ran the knife along the coarse weave of the cloth. Fifteen or twenty
smaller sacks lay exposed. Sheba looked up at Macdonald, a startled
question in her eyes.
He nodded. "You've guessed it. This is part of the gold for which Robert
Milton was murdered."
"But--how did it get here?"
"I buried it there yesterday. Come."
He led her around the rock. Back of it lay something over which was
spread a long bit of canvas. The heart of Sheba was beating wildly.
The Scotchman looked at her from a rock-bound face. "Underneath this
canvas is the body of one of the men who murdered Milton. He died more
miserably than the man he shot. Half the gold stolen from the bank is in
that gunnysack you have just dug up. If you'll tell me who has the other
half, I'll tell you who helped him rob the bank.
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