e found the stones.

"Professor," he began, in low eager tones, "I cannot thank you enough
for inventing that story to save me. But you must not think I am a
thief! These are not the stones from the box I did not steal them."

"I know that," interrupted the professor, "but where got you these?"

"This side the big dune where I first saw Grosman salting two days ago.
They lie there in thousands. I got these in an hour or so."

"Now Gott sie Dank!" said the professor joyfully. "These rascals then
have too clever been, and the ground is in truth rich! Gott sie Dank!
Our trip has not been in vain. But neither the police nor these knaves
must know . . . and we must ride on quick. For I bade them test the
ground again where they salted and that is the first place, and they
must find nothing."

"We are nearly there," said Dick, "and it's risky. For where they
salted is barely 300 yards from where the stones lie thick. But we must
take them to where they picked their own up and they won't search far
they are too down at mouth for that. But, professor, where are the real
stones? Who stole them? Who has them?"

"Ach, that is the mystery," replied the professor, and spurred his
horse on before Dick could ask him any more.

An hour later they came to the big dune, the scene of Grosman's
salting, and here Dick, with mixed feelings, stood by whilst Gilderman
made his last attempt at bluff setting the boys to work with sieves,
whilst he and his colleagues searched all around the vicinity of that
last "rich find," and, of course, finding nothing; whilst had he known
it, but a bare stone's throw or two away they were lying in abundance.

Dick could almost have found it in his heart to pity him, as the
despairing, cadaverous wretch at length gave up the hopeless search.

Late that evening, as they approached the first waterhole, the
wachtmeister pointed significantly to a saddled horse cropping quietly
near by, whilst as they got nearer the pits, five or six big vultures
flapped lazily away. "I knew I hit him," said the wachtmeister
significantly.

"Junes," thought Dick; "now if they find he really has the stones what
will happen then?"

Junes it was: they found all that the vultures had left of him lying
there by the water, with a ghastly bullet-hole through back and
shoulder. The marvel was that he had lived to ride so far. But there
were no diamonds, and Dick was more mystified than ever. A few
pencilled words, scrawled o