The Third Bar

"And, besides," went on Bruce, "the news would go all over the Orient
and the thugs would come like flies scenting honey. No; this must be
kept secret if we care to get away with it. It can not be worth less
than a million. And I've known white men who would cut our throats for
a handful of rupees."

For the first time since the expedition started out the colonel became
normal, a man of action, cool in the head, and foresighted.

"Ahmed, spread out the men around the camp," he ordered briskly.
"Instruct them to shoot over the head of any one who approaches; this
the first time. The second time, to kill. Bruce has the right idea;
so let us get busy. Over there, where that boulder is. The ground
will be damp and soft under it, and when we roll it back there will be
no sign of its having been disturbed. I used to cache ammunition that
way. Give me that spade."

It was good to Kathlyn's ears to hear her father talk like this.

At a depth of three feet the basket was lowered, covered and the
boulder rolled into place. After that the colonel stooped and combed
the turf where the boulder had temporarily rested. He showed his
woodcraft there. It would take a keener eye than Umballa possessed to
note any disturbance. The safety of the treasure ultimately, however,
depended upon the loyalty of the keepers under Ahmed. They had been
with the colonel for years; yet . . . The colonel shrugged. He had to
trust them; that was all there was to the matter.