My Buried Treasure | Page 9

their secret from them with my bare
hands. I was strong enough to dig them up by the roots, strong enough
to dig the Panama Canal! I glanced tremulously at Edgar. His eyes were
wide open and, eloquent with dismay, his lower jaw had fallen. He
turned and looked at me for the first time with consideration. Apology
and remorse were written in every line of his countenance.
I'm sorry, he stammered. I had a cruel premonition. I exclaimed with
distress.
"You have lost the map!" I hissed.
"No, no," protested Edgar; "but I entirely forgot to bring any lunch!"
With violent mutterings I tore off my upper and outer garments and
tossed them into the hack.
"Where do I begin?" I asked.
Edgar pointed to a spot inside the triangle formed by the three trees and
equally distant from each.
"Put that horse behind the bank," I commanded, "where no one can see
him! And both you and Rupert keep off the sky-line!" From the north
and south we were now all three hidden by the two high banks of sand;
to the east lay the beach and the Atlantic Ocean, and to the west
stretches of marshes that a mile away met a wood of pine trees and the
railroad round- house.
I began to dig. I knew that weary hours lay before me, and I attacked
the sand leisurely and with deliberation. It was at first no great effort;

but as the hole grew in depth, and the roots of the trees were exposed,
the work was sufficient for several men. Still, as Edgar had said, it is
not every day that one can dig for treasure, and in thinking of what was
to come I forgot my hands that quickly blistered, and my breaking back.
After an hour I insisted that Edgar should take a turn; but he made such
poor headway that my patience could not contain me, and I told him I
was sufficiently rested and would continue. With alacrity he scrambled
out of the hole, and, taking a cigar from my case, seated himself
comfortably in the hack. I took my comfort in anticipating the thrill that
would be mine when the spade would ring on the ironbound chest;
when, with a blow of the axe, I would expose to view the hidden jewels,
the pieces of eight, coated with verdigris, the string of pearls, the chains
of yellow gold. Edgar had said a million dollars. That must mean there
would be diamonds, many diamonds. I would hold them in my hands,
watch them, at the sudden sunshine, blink their eyes and burst into tiny,
burning fires. In imagination I would replace them in the setting, from
which, years before, they had been stolen. I would try to guess whence
they came from a jewelled chalice in some dim cathedral, from the
breast of a great lady, from the hilt of an admiral's sword.
After another hour I lifted my aching shoulders and, wiping the sweat
from my eyes, looked over the edge of the hole. Rupert, with his back
to the sand-hill, was asleep. Edgar with one hand was waving away the
mosquitoes and in the other was holding one of the magazines he had
bought on the way down. I could even see the page upon which his
eyes were riveted. It was an advertisement for breakfast food. In my
indignation the spade slipped through my cramped and perspiring
fingers, and as it struck the bottom of the pit, something --a band of
iron, a steel lock, an iron ring-- gave forth a muffled sound. My heart
stopped beating as suddenly as though Mr. Corbett had hit it with his
closed fist. My blood turned to melted ice. I drove the spade down as
fiercely as though it was a dagger. It sank into rotten wood. I had made
no sound; for I could hardly breathe. But the slight noise of the blow
had reached Edgar. I heard the springs of the hack creak as he vaulted
from it, and the next moment he was towering above me, peering down
into the pit. His eyes were wide with excitement, greed, and fear. In his
hands he clutched the two suit-cases. Like a lion defending his cubs he

glared at me.
"Get out!" he shouted.
"Like hell!" I said.
"Get out!" he roared. "I'll do the rest.
That's mine, not yours! GET OUT!"
With a swift kick I brushed away the sand. I found I was standing on a
squat wooden box, bound with bands of rusty iron. I had only to stoop
to touch it. It was so rotten that I could have torn it apart with my bare
hands. Edgar was dancing on the edge of the pit, incidentally kicking
sand into