“Exactly.” “Well, what then?” “I’ll tell him that you have Rodney locked up in a horrible dungeon, and that you will never release him except to hand him over to the police as a forger, unless he pays me the ten thousand dollars.” “Tim, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Daley admiringly. “I guess that will fetch the colonel.” “Without a doubt.” “You can wait here, and maybe yet find the money.” “We’ll try it.” “And keep Rodney?” “Never fear.” “I must have some money.” “I’ll give you a hundred.” Just then Dean Mercer, peering from the cave opening, made a discovery. Some distance down the valley he saw two forms. Spofford and Rodney were returning to the camp in the hollow. Marcus was so engrossed in listening to the conversation of the two plotters, and so situated that he did not see their returning allies. Dean wished to warn him, but he feared that if he whistled as agreed upon, it might attract Daley’s attention. He groped about for a piece of loose stone to throw at Marcus. As he did so, his fingers clutched at something soft and yielding lying on the floor of the cave. “A purse!” he murmured surprisedly. It was Daley’s lost purse. Dean pocketed it, and picked up a small stone. This he flung with such accuracy at Marcus that the latter turned in his crouching attitude and looked at him. Dean made violent motions, indicating trouble, and Marcus crept back to the cave. “What is it?” he asked. “Spofford and Rodney are coming.” “Glad you warned me. Oh, yes, I see them. Wait; we are safe to watch them for a time.” Dean could see by Marcus’ face that he had discovered something unfavorable to their plans. On the arrival of Spofford and Rodney there was a conference and then Tim left them, and the other three came toward the cave as if intending to take up their quarters there, Daley glancing all about him in evident quest of the lost purse. “Come, Dean,” said Marcus hurriedly, “we must retreat. They are coming this way.” The boys did not talk as they hastened back the way they had come. It was only when they had gone clear through the cave again and come out at its other exit that Marcus spoke. He led the way to a thicket and sat down on a fallen tree, with a gloomy sigh. “You look discouraged, Marcus,” said Dean anxiously. “I am.” “Bad news?” “The very worst.” “Oh, I hope not.” “Yes, Meg is dead.” “Dead! oh, that cannot be!” cried the startled Dean. “Yes, drowned.” “Then our hopes----” “Of ever recovering the lost papers and money die with her. Those scoundrels pursued her and drove her to her death. They have searched for the money in the cave and could not find it, and no more might we, even if they did not intend to remain there for several days. No, Meg’s body is probably beyond recovering, and the papers and money hidden in some out-of-the-way place, never to be found again.” “It’s terrible!” gasped Dean.