They
consisted, as far as Robert could see, of a number of packets of the
same shape, each about two feet long and six inches high, arranged
symmetrically upon the top of each other. Each packet was surrounded by
a covering of coarse sacking.
"What do you think of that?" asked old McIntyre triumphantly as the load
creaked past.
"Why, father? What do you make of it?"
"I have watched it, Robert--I have watched it every Saturday, and I had
my chance of looking a little deeper into it. You remember the day when
the elm blew down, and the road was blocked until they could saw it in
two. That was on a Saturday, and the waggon came to a stand until they
could clear a way for it. I was there, Robert, and I saw my chance.
I strolled behind the waggon, and I placed my hands upon one of those
packets. They look small, do they not? It would take a strong man to
lift one. They are heavy, Robert, heavy, and hard with the hardness of
metal. I tell you, boy, that that waggon is loaded with gold."
"Gold!"
"With solid bars of gold, Robert. But come into the plantation and we
shall see what becomes of it."
They passed through the lodge gates, behind the waggon, and then
wandered off among the fir-trees until they gained a spot where they
could command a view.
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