It was not long before Temple made the unwelcome discovery, suspected from the first, that the box was gone. He desisted from his work and gave vent to such a volley of imprecations that Philip trembled as if he had an ague fit.

Could it be, Temple asked himself, that Vernon had proved false to him, and, returning, conveyed away the box for his own individual profit?

"If he has, I'll kill him," he muttered, in a deep, growling tone.

Philip heard him, and his heart beat fast with fear. Who did Temple want to kill? Was it himself or Congreve?

"I'd give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to be at home," thought the miserable boy.

As for Temple, he was no less miserable. All his hopes and antic.i.p.ations were dashed. The disappearance of the tin box, whoever might have removed it, would render it impossible to carry out plans of Californian emigration with which he had been solacing himself all the morning. Such a big haul as the present might never be made again.

His first suspicion fell upon his partner, but he also thought of the two whom he had met in the forenoon in the wood. They had been suspiciously near the spot, and might be implicated in the loss. It didn't seem probable, but it was possible.

At this inauspicious moment Philip, yielding to a tickling in the throat which he couldn't overcome, coughed. It was not a loud cough, but Temple heard it.

He instantly started for the quarter from which the sound proceeded, and in a few seconds discovered and dragged Philip by the collar from behind the tree.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, sternly.

"Nothing," answered Philip, trembling.

"Ha! You are one of the boys that I caught prowling round here this morning."

"I have as much right here as you," said Philip, plucking up a little courage.

"Have you? We'll see about that," snarled Temple. "Where's the other fellow?"

"He isn't here."

"Isn't here? I don't believe it. He's hiding somewhere near."

"Then you can find him," said Philip, sullenly.

"No matter! I've got you, you rascal!" And he shook Philip fiercely.

"What villainous work have you been up to?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Philip, his teeth chattering. "I am the son of Colonel Ross, and he won't allow me to be treated this way."

"I'd treat him the same way if I caught him here," growled Temple, with a lack of reverence for the colonel's exalted position, which struck Philip with horror. "Now, tell me what you have done with the tin box, you young scoundrel!"

"The tin box!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Philip, in genuine amazement.

"Yes, the tin box. You know well enough what I mean."

"I don't know anything of any tin box; indeed, I don't."

"Do you mean to say you didn't dig it up from the place where we put it?"

"No; indeed I didn't! I don't know anything about it. What was in it?"

Was this ignorance real or affected? Temple could not tell. What was certain was that the box was gone, and this boy was hovering about the spot. It would be folly to let him go.

"I don't believe you," he said, bluntly. "You must come with me."

And he began to drag Philip off in the direction of his hut.

"Oh, where are you taking me?" asked the frightened boy.

"You'll know soon enough. I'm going to keep you till the tin box is restored to me."

Poor Philip! As he was jerked along by his collar, in the stern grasp of the outlaw, he suffered a good deal more than Harry had in his recent captivity.

CHAPTER XXV

PHILIP BECOMES A PRISONER

"Please let me go, and I'll give you five dollars," said poor Philip, as he was dragged along the forest path by his captor.

"Humph!" said Temple, grimly, thinking he might as well take the money, though he had no intention of releasing Philip. "Have you got five dollars with you?"

"No."

"Then you are trying to fool me," exclaimed Temple, with an angry jerk at the boy's collar.

"No, I'm not," answered Philip, terrified. "I've got two dollars with me, and I'll bring you the rest before night.

"Where will you get it?"

"From my father."

"And I suppose you expect me to let you go home and get it?"

"If you please."

"But I don't please. You must think I'm a fool. Just as if you would come back if you had once got away!"

"But I will. I promise it on my word of honor."

"Your word of honor," repeated Temple, scornfully. "As if I didn't know what that amounts to."

Philip would have resented this imputation if he had dared, but there was a look of grim resolution about Temple's mouth which made him afraid to show any resentment.

"Besides," added Temple, "what do you think I care for five dollars?

After you have stolen thousands of dollars from me, you dare to think I will let you off for five dollars."