CHAPTER XVI

LI NING’S HIDING-PLACE IN the grey of the dawn, before the sun had sent the faintest pink flush above the eastern horizon, Jim and Wally met at the Split Rock—both very sleepy, and—at the moment—without any enthusiasm for treasure-hunting. “Sleep well?” Jim asked, yawning cavernously. “Fairly. The ground seems harder than it used to seem in Flanders,” said Wally, rubbing his sides. “I scratched a hole for my hip in the most approved fashion; the trouble was my hip wouldn’t stay put in it, when I went to sleep.” “Yo…