by John Migacz
CHAPTER 27
Saladar waited until the camp grew silent before chancing a peek from under the tangle of tent cloth. He was alone. Fear had pinned him flat to the tent floor and he was stiff. He had seen and heard enough to know it was all over. No Baron – no captain of the Baron’s guards. He groaned as he raised himself to his knees and threw off the heavy tent cloth. A clinking sound caught his attention. He looked down and stared. The chest of gold had spilled over onto the floor and he had been lying in it the entire time.
The gleaming metal shone like a bright dream. He quickly glanced around. No one was near. Drawing his dagger, he cut out a large square of purple tent and filled it with gold. “Must not be too greedy!” he said aloud, panting with excitement. He couldn’t take all of it, but he wanted as much as he could carry. Standing, he hefted the purple sack. It was almost too heavy, but he wouldn’t do with less. The intense greed filling him made him dizzy. He tied the sack closed and struggled off to find a luse.