know what let’s do,” he said. “Let’s go on a treasure hunt!”
“What’s that?” they all cried.
“It’s got to be out of doors,” said Poor Cecco, explaining very rapidly, “and we take the express-wagon to bring it back in, and you find a place where some one has buried treasure and you dig it up and divide it. I’m going to do the digging.”
“How do you find the place?” Harlequin asked.
“There are lots of places,” said Poor Cecco. “You measure the ground and then you dig. Generally it’s under a big stone.”
Bulka remembered a big stone down by the end of the garden. There might be treasure there. But how could one tell?
You couldn’t tell. If you knew beforehand, Poor Cecco said, then there was no sense in looking and it wouldn’t be a treasure-hunt. Any one might do that. But you had to have spades, and he sent Tubby to fetch a tin spade and a broken spoon that were in the bottom of the toy-cupboard.
The express wagon had gone to sleep. He grumbled terribly when they woke him up. “I work all day,” he complained, “and at night I want to be quiet. I wish you’d think of something with a boat in it for a change!”
But Tubby had returned with the spade, and every one climbed in, paying no attention to his protests. They
