"We will never reveal the secret,--the place of the gold," declared
L'Épine. Then perceiving in his turn something uncomprehended in their
expression he reinforced his promise with argument. "We will want to
come back--alone--to get more of it--all for ourselves. We will not be
willing to share our discovery with others."

The cheera-taghe still silently gazed at the two young men; then turned
toward each other with that patent astonishment yet on their faces. At
last they burst forth into sarcastic laughter.

L'Épine and O'Kimmon, albeit half bewildered, exchanged appalled
glances. There was no need of speech. Each understood at last.

Return! There was no chance of departure. They were to pay the penalty
of the dangerous knowledge they had acquired. Already some vague report,
some suspicion of the hidden gold of the locality had been bruited
abroad,--thus the Indians must reason,--or these white men would not
have come so far to seek it. Should they be permitted to depart, their
sudden wealth would proclaim its source, even though as they had
promised they should keep silence.

This was equally true should they eventually escape. Therefore--hideous
realization!--the actual possession by the Indians of their own country
depended upon the keeping of the secret inviolate. Dead men tell no
tales!

O'Kimmon, with a swelling heart, bethought himself of his status as a
British subject and the possible vengeance of the province. It would
come, if at all, too late. For the Cherokees believed the two to be