“Well, Pierre, I’ve got a plan. You say it will not be until Tuesday afternoon that I leave these quarters?” “Zat is so, and I am sorry you must still wear ze blindfold, but it will be for ze last time now.” “Oh, I’m not kicking about that. I know the conditions under which I came here. But it will be evening when we get clear of the hills, and I won’t have any particular place to go to. Next morning it will be best for me to ride right over to Bakersfield, to surrender myself and secure my formal discharge. When, did you say, am I to get the necessary documents for all this?” “Before you depart from ze cave.” “Well, everything will fit in fine. Tomorrow you have kindly promised to take out my things. Just carry the nuggets along with you also, and leave everything in Jack’s charge. But tell him that nothing must be opened or disturbed until I arrive. I’m going to give Jack Rover the surprise of his life when he sees that gold. The sack is too heavy to handle, but I guess we can make it into several packages. Jack was always crazy to find Guadalupe’s sand-bar.” “So were lots of ozers,” grinned Pierre. “But they have never found it yet. Even you will not be able to find it again when you are led out of zese hills wearing ze blindfold.” “I am fully aware of that, old man,” laughed Dick in reply. “I suppose I couldn’t discover the place again in a hundred years. But Jack’s eyes will fairly pop when he sees that bunch of gold marbles. He will be mighty pleased to show the nuggets around to some of the boys who have laughed over his enthusiasm, always declaring that Guadalupe’s gold simply came from some old-timer’s sack of dust that had been part of Joaquin Murietta’s plunder.” “Oh, no. All ze bandits get out much gold from ze riffle in zose days—Don Manuel himself had plenty.” “Well, Pierre, you just pack all my belongings to Buck Ashley’s old store. And you tell Jack Rover to expect me about six o’clock the night after tomorrow—that’s Tuesday. And I wish Munson to be there, too—I’ll want him to accompany me to Bakersfield.” “If you write a leetle note to ze lieutenant,” suggested Pierre, “I will see zat it reaches his hands. But you must say very leetle—just a few words. For nozing must be told to anyone outside until you are free.” “All right, Pierre. Here goes.” And Dick seated himself at the writing table. In a very few moments he had completed his task. “See,” he said, returning to Pierre’s side. “I wish you to know exactly what I have written—just a hurried scrawl.” And he read aloud while the old Frenchman’s eyes rested on the paper: “On Tuesday night next, about six o’clock, meet me at Buck Ashley’s old store. I shall want you to ride over to Bakersfield with me next morning, where my acquittal is assured. Give Merle the glad news. Yours, Dick.” “Guess that’s all right?” he added, as he folded the note and placed it in an envelope on which he had already inscribed the name of Lieutenant Munson.