"I've a hunch that there's a nice fat jackpot over there," said MacAllister, "and we're going to rake it in ourselves. We don't need to draw to our hands either. Just stand pat, boys, just stand pat."
"Shovel a little away from the ends, Ben," Sally was ordering.
Then they sought for the handles.
"Here, where my pick caught," she said.
"My! but it's heavy," Benson exclaimed. "Lor'! it must be's full of gold beauties as a kiyoodle of fleas."
"Fetch a crowbar," called the boy, and Jack Beam ran for the required article, while the others,—Linda, the Captain, old Joe Bowling, and Spanish Dick, crowded round.
The long object was swept clean, and lay there before their eyes,—a massive chest, as long as a coffin, with crude figures upon it, and encrusted with a coat left by the centuries, a hard composition, terra-cotta coloured, of rust, and sand, and the dust of coral and burned-out lava. The padlock and clasps had been huge and strong when clamped by the horny hands of the hiders; they had been made triply tight by the cunning fingers of Father Time.
"Lid won't budge," growled Benson. "It sticks like it had been soldered by the Devil himself."
Followed an hour of suspense for the watchers around the ditch, and of obscene speculation from the wicked crew on the beach.
The chest was not empty. That much was certain. But did it contain the treasure? For all they knew, it might be laden with tools or firearms stowed away by filibusters who
