Well, Herr Gilderman, what does it matter, a thousand carats or so! The
rich fields you found them on are still there; it took but a few hours
to find the stones, surely we can return to those so rich fields and
find again a thousand carats! Hein?"

Gilderman answered nothing, but if looks could have killed the old
professor, who did not even look at him, and Dick, who grinned
maliciously full in his face, both of them would have preceded Grosman.

Just then a faint shot sounded in the direction of the pursuit. It was
followed by another and another . . . then a regular fusillade.

"They are kneeling on the top of the first dune," called Jelder from a
little rise a few yards away. "Now they are mounting again and coming
back."

"Then he's got away," said Dick, "his horse was fresh and they looked
as though they had ridden far."

"Curse him, may he roast in hell," whispered the dying man, "but what
he said was true."

"Hush," said the professor, "do not try to talk now. Save your breath,
man, and tell your story only to the police. And remember I can do but
little for you your time is very short."

By this the police came cantering back into camp. "We hit him," said
the wachtmeister. "I saw him stagger in the saddle just as he got into
the big dunes. His horse was fresh and ours were fagged, it was useless
to follow farther. If he is badly hit we shall find him at the
waterhole, if not, he will run right into the arms of the patrol we
meet there. And now, what is all this about?"

Gilderman took up the tale in voluble German, and it was now evident
that, shaken by the protestations of the dying man, and of his
murderer, he was now suspicious of Jelder, who had held a key to the
box in common with himself. He had been awakened by the outcry that the
prospectors made when they saw the empty box lying by the side of the
bed. His key he remarked pointedly was still fast round his neck
perhaps, he added significantly, Jelder had left his lying about
overnight? Jelder flushed angrily, and drawing his key out by the thin
gold chain that secured it beneath his vest, shook it in Gilderman's
face, when mutual recriminations began without undue loss of time.

The old professor's wine had done its work well in more ways than one.

Their colleagues, Zweiter and Spattboom, instantly took sides, and so
they wrangled and vociferated, what time the big German wachtmeister
made voluminous notes in a big pocket book.

During a