The Adventures of Kathlyn

"Now, then, white people," said the chief, "come to my house. You are

welcome there, now and always. You have this day saved my life and

that of my child. I am grateful."

Inside the hut Kathlyn drew the child toward her and gently pressed

open the tightly clutched fingers. She plucked the sovereign from the

little pink palm and held it up. The child's father seized it,

wonderingly.

"Gold! They lied to me! I knew it."

"Yes," said Bruce. "They did find the treasure. They brought it here

and buried it quickly. And we believe your little girl knows where.

Question her."

It was not an easy matter. The child was naturally shy, and the

presence of all these white skinned people struck her usually babbling

tongue with a species of paralysis. But her father was patient, and

word by word the secret was dragged out of her. She told of the stolen

bullock cart, of the digging in the sand, of the holy one.

In some manner they must lure Umballa from his retreat. It was finally

agreed upon that they all return to the camp and steal back at once in

a roundabout way. They would come sufficiently armed. Later, the

chief could pretend to be walking with his child.

So while Umballa stole forth from his hiding-place, reasonably certain

that his enemies had gone, got together his mutineers and made

arrangements with them to help him carry away the treasure that night,

the rightful owners were directed to the broken stick in the damp sand.

That night, when Umballa and his men arrived, a hole in the sand

greeted them. It was shaped like a mouth, opened in laughter.