In the morning Mr. Browning hadn’t come aboard, but Naboth was there,
and he told us Mr. Topper was sick with a disease he called
pender-sidus, and had to be operated on. He said Mr. Browning had to
stay with Mr. Topper, and he didn’t know how long it would be.
“That’s bad,” said Catty to me, “not just because Mr. Topper has
appendicitis, though that’s bad enough, but on account of the treasure.
What’s going to become of _it_ while Mr. Topper’s sick and Mr. Browning
can’t attend to it?”
“Dunno,” says I.
“I know,” says he. “Mr. House’ll dig and dig till he gets it.”
“Now,” says I, “isn’t that too bad—after all the trouble we’ve gone to.
It doesn’t seem right. I’d like to see that treasure.”
“So would I,” says Catty, “and,” he says, with his chin sticking out
like it does when he’s got his mind all made up, “I’m going to see it.”
“Maybe,” says I, “Mr. House’ll show it to you.”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” says he, “it isn’t your strong point. Now tell me
this: what’s the matter with our going after the treasure ourselves? It
can’t do any harm, the way things are, and it may do some good.”
“I’m willing,” says I, “though we’ll probably make some kind of a mess
of it and get into trouble.”
We were sitting on deck while we talked, watching the _Porpoise_. While
we looked we saw them lower the starboard dinghy and Mr. House and one
of the crew got into it and rowed toward us. They kept coming until they
were alongside, and Mr. House looked up like he was kind of surprised to
see us.
“Well,” says he, “where’d you come from, and where’s our dink?”
“Oh, we got here all right,” says Catty, “and dink’s over on the beach
yonder.” He pointed. “We pulled it up so it would be safe.”
“Much obliged,” says Mr. House. “Where’s Topper?”
“In town,” says Catty.
“Browning, too?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.... Well, glad you got aboard all right. Good-by.”
“Same to you,” says Catty, “and many of them.”
Mr. House grinned and Catty grinned and I grinned, and they rowed away.
About an hour afterward Mr. Browning came out, and he looked pretty
serious. He told us Mr. Topper was very sick and the doctor said there
would have to be an operation that very day.
“No sickness ever came at a worse time,” said Mr. Browning. “It will be
terrible for Mr. Topper. He has made so many plans depending on the
success of the business we came here to look after. Now it looks as if
our expedition would be a failure. Poor old Topper.”
“It meant a lot of money, didn’t it?”
“I should say so,” answered Mr. Browning. “More than either of you ever
saw.”
“That,” says I, “wouldn’t have to be such a lot.”
“Maybe,” says Catty, “the pirates won’t find it.”
“That’s our only hope,” says Mr. Browning. “But they’ll have a long time
to try without interference.”
“Mr. Browning,” says Catty, “this is a kind of an emergency. Why don’t
you tell Wee-wee and me where to dig, and let us go after this treasure.
It would be another chance to win, and it couldn’t do any harm.”
“Why,” says Mr. Browning, “that’s so, but you might get into trouble. I
don’t imagine those men will be over gentle. It means thousands upon
thousands of dollars to them.”
“They’re not so bad,” says Catty. “You know we were aboard their yacht
last night.”
“Tell me about it,” says Mr. Browning, and we told him, and he listened
careful. “You threw a document bag aboard?” says he. “Huh. We didn’t see
anything of one.”
“I saw it strike aboard this yacht, and I believe it stayed,” says
Catty.
“Let’s look,” says I.
So we all went on deck to nose around, but not a thing did we find, and
Naboth said he hadn’t found anything when he swabbed the decks this
morning. It was mighty funny.
“Well,” says Mr. Browning, “that’s that. Um.... Look here, you fellows.”
He took us below and showed us a chart. “There’s something buried in the
sand out yonder. I shan’t tell you what it is, because it’s just as well
if you don’t know. Here are the directions to find it. Now, go to it,
but be careful. If you do get it, why, it’ll be the best day’s work
you’ll ever do.”
With that he went on deck, and Naboth took him ashore in the power dink.
Catty and I studied the map, and so far as we could judge, it showed the
place where the treasure was hid to be just about where Mr. House and
Mr. Robbins had been digging. It might have been there, or it might have
been a hundred feet or so in any direction of their hole, but anyhow, it
was close. The only way to tell, was to make exact measurements
according to the figures on the map.
“So far, so good,” says Catty. “I’ve got the figures memorized. Now we
better hide this map in a safe place so there’s no chance of anybody
sneaking aboard while we’re gone and stealing it.”
We looked around for a place to hide the map, but there didn’t seem to
be any safe places. We had to put it some place, though, so, in the end,
we hid it in back of the mirror and went on deck.
Then we got Rameses III to help us lower the other dink—the one you have
to row—and started to see what we could see. The _Porpoise_ was still at
anchor, and just as we got a quarter of a mile away, we saw a whopping
big steam yacht come in. She must have been close to two hundred feet
long, and she was a dandy. She steamed in, slowed down, and after
fussing around a while she dropped anchor. We watched and saw her lower
a boat. Then a man who looked big and fat got in and two sailors, and
they went chugging away, and would you believe it?—they headed straight
for the _Porpoise_. Yes, sir, they ran right up to her, and the fat man
went aboard.
“What d’you think of that?” says I.
“I think we’d better get a move on us if we want to lift this treasure,”
says Catty. “That looks to me like reinforcements to the enemy.”
“It’s a lot of reinforcements,” I says.
Well, we rowed on for half an hour, and then beached the dink close to
the spot where the digging had been going on, and got ashore. We hadn’t
gone a dozen feet before a man got up from behind a knoll and scowled at
us.
“Hey,” says he, “where do you think you’re going?”
“Walking,” says Catty.
“Well, take your foot in your hand and walk back into your boat,” says
he.
“Why?” says Catty.
“Because I tell you to,” says the man.
“What right have you to order us off this beach?” says Catty.
“None of your business,” says the man; “and don’t argue, but git.”
“Anybody has a right on any beach anywhere up to highwater mark,” says
Catty, “That’s the law.”
“I’m making the law right here, young feller,” says the man, “and I tell
you to git.”
“Do you own this land?” says Catty.
“No, but my boss has leased it, and he’s put me here to chase folks
off.”
“Oh, leased it, eh? Who’s your boss?”
“Don’t know that it’s any of your business, but his name is Mr. House.”
“Um....” says Catty. “Kind of a slick trick,” says he to me. “Wonder if
it’s true.”
“Don’t seem to make much difference to you and me whether it’s true or
not,” says I; “this feller can throw us off whether he’s got a right or
not.”
“I’m not so sure,” says Catty, and his jaw stuck out with that stubborn
way it’s got when he thinks somebody is trying to put it on him.
“Try it and see,” says the man, taking a step toward us. “Skedaddle.
Git. Vamose the ranch.”
“Hold on,” says Catty; “when did Mr. House lease this land?”
“How should I know?” says the man.
Catty stood a minute looking at the man, and then he kind of studied the
sky and peered at the sand and waggled his head. “Pretty slick,” says
he, and his voice was sort of admiring. “This man House isn’t anybody’s
fool, is he. I like to see a man with brains, even if he is a pirate.
Well, Mr. Guard, we’ll be getting along now, but you can get word to
your boss that we’ll be back.”
“I’ll be right here waitin’ for you,” says the man, with a grin.
“But,” says Catty, “you won’t see us.”
“I won’t, eh?... Jest try it once.”
There wasn’t any use standing there arguing, so we got into our dink
again and rowed back. We passed close to the big yacht that came in
while we were on our way out, and she was a dandy. I’ll bet she cost
close to a million dollars, and she had a crew of real sailors in
sailor’s clothes and everything. I’ll bet there were twenty men aboard
her.
“If that is really reinforcements to Mr. House,” says I, “I guess our
chances have gone glimmering.”
“Never give up till the last rooster dies,” says Catty.
Pretty soon we were aboard the _Albatross_ again, and we got down
Lloyd’s Register and looked up the new yacht. Her name was the _Dawn_,
and she was a hundred and fifty feet long, with some kind of engines
built in Philadelphia in 1913, and her owner was Jonas P. Dunn, of New
York! I looked at Catty and Catty looked at me. Jonas P. Dunn! The big
boss himself.
“Guess he thought Mr. House wasn’t doing his best,” says I, “so he came
up to take charge.”
“Must be a pretty big treasure to get a multi-millionaire like this Dunn
all excited over it,” says Catty.
“Bet there’s barrels and boxes and crates of gold and jewels,” says I.
Catty looked kind of discouraged. “Must be,” says he. “And what I want
to know,” he says, “is, how in the world you and me could carry off all
that weight of stuff even if we found it?”
“Give it up,” says I.
“Anyhow,” says he, “we might grab onto a boat load of it. You know a
dinghy full of diamonds would be worth a lot money. Better than
nothing.”
“Geewhillikins,” says I, “just think of it. A boat load of diamonds, and
every diamond worth a hundred dollars. Why, you could get ’most a
million diamonds in a boat.”
“Let’s not count ’em up till we get ’em,” says he.
“And rubies and emeralds,” says I. “Whoop!”
“And a man guarding them, and a yacht with twenty more men on it just
come to help guard it—and nobody but two kids to fight them all. Looks
kind of sickly, don’t it?”
“You bet,” says I.
“Just the same,” says he, “I’m going to gaffle onto at least a hatful of
those diamonds and pearls and emeralds in spite of all the guards and
yachts Jonas P. Dunn can fetch here.”
“Me, too,” says I, “but how’ll we go at it.”
“Stratagem,” says he.
“What kind of stratagem?” says I.
“I dunno,” says he, “but I’m going to sit down and think one out.”
“Bully for you,” says I, kind of sarcastic, “think out a couple, one for
me.”