"I've been thinking," said Croyden, as they footed it across the Severn
bridge, "that, if we knew the year in which the light-house was
erected, we could get the average encroachment of the sea every year,
and, by a little figuring, arrive at where the point was in 1720. It
would be approximate, of course, but it would give us a
start--something more definite than we have now. For all we know
Parmenter's treasure may be a hundred yards out in the Bay."
Macloud nodded. "And if we don't find the date, here," he added, "we
can go to Washington and get it from the Navy Department. An inquiry
from Senator Rickrose will bring what we want, instantly."
"At the same time, why shouldn't we get permission to camp on the Point
for a few weeks?" Croyden suggested. "It would make it easy for us to
dig and investigate, and fish and measure, in fact, do whatever we
wished. Having a permit from the Department, would remove all
suspicion."
"Bully! We're fond of the open--with a town convenient!" Macloud
laughed. "I know Rickrose well, we can go down this afternoon and see
him. He will be so astonished that we are not seeking a political
favor, he will go to the Secretary himself and make ours a personal
request. Then we will get the necessary camp stuff, and be right on the
job."
They had passed the Experiment Station and the Rifle Range, and were
rounding the shoal onto the Point, when the trotting of a rapidly
approaching horse came to them from the rear.
"Suppose we conceal ourselves, and take a look," suggested Macloud.
"Here is a fine place."
He pointed to some rocks and bushes that lined the roadway. The next
instant, they had disappeared behind them.
A moment more, and the horse and buggy came into view. In it were two
men--of medium size, dressed quietly, with nothing about them to
attract attention, save that the driver had a hook-nose, and the other
was bald, as the removal of his hat, an instant, showed.
"The thieves!" whispered Croyden.
"Yes--I'll bet a hundred on it!" Macloud answered.
"Greenberry Point seems far off," said the driver--"I wonder if we can
have taken the wrong road?"
"This is the only one we could take," the other answered, "so we must
be right. I wonder what that jay's doing?" he added, with a laugh.
"Cussing himself for----" The rest was lost in the noise of the team.
"Right, you are!" said Croyden, lifting himself from a bed of stones
and vines. "Right, you are, my friend! And if I had a gun, I'd give the
Coroner a job with both of you."
Macloud looked thoughtful.
"It would be most effective," he said. "But could we carry it off
cleanly? The law is embarrassing if we're detected, you know."
"You're not serious?" said Croyden.
"I never was more so," the other answered. "I'd shoot those scoundrels
down without a second's hesitation, if I could do it and not be
caught."
"A trifle unconventional!" commented Croyden. "However, your idea isn't
half bad; they wouldn't hesitate to do the same to us."
"Exactly! They won't hesitate--and, what's more, they have the nerve to
take the chance. That is the difference between us and them."
They waited until they could no longer hear the horse's hoof-falls nor
the rumble of the wheels. Then they started forward, keeping off the
road and taking a course that afforded the protection of the trees and
undergrowth. Presently, they caught sight of the two men--out in the
open, their heads together, poring over a paper, presumably the
Parmenter letter.
"It is not as easy finding the treasure, as it was to pick my pocket!"
chuckled Croyden. "There's the letter--and there are the men who stole
it. And we are helpless to interfere, and they know it. It's about as
aggravating as----" He stopped, for want of a suitable comparison.
Macloud only nodded in acquiescence.
The men finished with the letter. Hook-nose went on to the Point, and
stood looking at the ruins of the light-house out in the Bay; the other
turned and viewed the trees that were nearest.
"Much comfort you'll get from either," muttered Croyden.
Hook-nose returned, and the two held a prolonged conversation, each of
them gesticulating, now toward the water, and again toward the timber.
Finally, one went down to the extreme point and stepped off two hundred
and fifty paces inland. He marked this point with a stone.
Bald-head pointed to the trees, a hundred yards away, and shook his
head. More talk followed. Then they produced a compass, and ran the
additional distance to the North-east.
"Dig! damn you, dig!" exclaimed Macloud. "The treasure's not there."
"You'll have to work your brain a bit," Croyden added. "The letter's
not all that's needed, thank Heaven! You've stolen the one, but you
can't steal the other."
The men, after consulting together, went to the buggy, took out two
picks and shovels, and, returning to the place, fell to work.
"Did you ever see such fools?" said Macloud. "Dig! damn you, dig!"
After a short while, Bald-head threw down his pick and hoisted himself
out of the hole. An animated discussion followed.
"He's got a glimmer of intelligence, at last," Croyden muttered.
The discussion grew more animated, they waved their arms toward the
Bay, and toward the Severn, and toward the land. Hook-nose slammed his
pick up and down to emphasize his argument. Bald-head did likewise.
"They'll be doing the war dance, next!" laughed Macloud.
"'When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own,'" Croyden
quoted.
"_More_ honest men, you mean--the comparative degree."
"Life is made up of comparatives," said Croyden. "What's the matter
now?" as Bald-head faced about and stalked back to the buggy. "Has he
quit work so soon?"
"He has simply quit digging a hole at random," Macloud said. "My Lord,
he's taking a drink!"
Bald-head, however, did not return to his companion. Instead, he went
out to the Bay and stood looking across the water toward the bug-light.
Then he turned and looked back toward the timber.
He was thinking, as they had. The land had been driving inward by the
encroachment of the Bay--the beeches had, long since, disappeared, the
victims of the gales which swept the Point. There was no place from
which to start the measurements. Beyond the fact that, somewhere near
by, old Parmenter had buried his treasure, one hundred and ninety years
before, the letter was of no definite use to anyone.
From the Point, he retraced his steps leisurely to his companion, who
had continued digging, said something--to which Hook-nose seemingly
made no reply, save by a shovel of sand--and continued directly toward
the timber.
"Has he seen us?" said Croyden.
"I think not--these bushes are ample protection. Lie low.... He's not
coming this way--he's going to inspect the big trees, on our left....
They won't help you, my light-fingered friend; they're not the right
sort."
After a time, Bald-head abandoned the search and went back to his
friend. Throwing himself on the ground, he talked vigorously, and,
apparently, to some effect, for, presently, the digging ceased and
Hook-nose began to listen. At length, he tossed the pick and shovel
aside, and lifted himself out of the hole. After a few more
gesticulations, they picked up the tools and returned to the buggy.
"Have they decided to abandon it?" said Croyden, as they drove away.
The thieves, themselves, answered the question. At the first heavy
undergrowth, they stopped the horse and proceeded carefully to conceal
the tools. This accomplished, they drove off toward the town.
"Hum!" said Macloud. "So you're coming back are you? I wonder what you
intend to do?"
"I wish we knew," Croyden returned. "It might help us--for quite
between ourselves, Macloud, I think we're stumped."
"Our first business is to move on Washington and get the permit,"
Macloud returned. "Hook-nose and his friend may have the Point, for
to-day; they're not likely to injure it. Come along!"
They were passing the Marine Barracks when Croyden, who had been
pondering over the matter, suddenly broke out:
"We've got to get rid of those two fellows, Colin!"
"Granted!" said Macloud. "But how are we to manage it?"
"We agree that we dare not have them arrested--they would blow
everything to the police. And the police would either graft us for all
the jewels are worth, or inform the Government."
"Yes, but we may have to take the risk--or else divide up with the
thieves. Which do you prefer to do?"
"Neither!" said Croyden. "There is another way--except killing them,
which, of course, would be the most effective. Why shouldn't we
imprison them--be our own jailers?"
Macloud threw away his cigarette and lit another before he replied,
then he shook his head.
"Too much risk to ourselves," he said. "Somebody would likely be killed
in the operation, with the chances strongly favoring ourselves. I'd
rather shoot them down from ambush, at once."
"That may require an explanation to a judge and jury, which would be a
trifle inconvenient. I'd prefer to risk my life in a fight. Then, if it
came to court, our reputation is good, while theirs is in the rogues'
gallery."
"Where would you imprison them?" asked Macloud, dubiously.
"That is the difficulty, I admit. Think over it, while we're going to
Washington and back; see if you can't find a way out. Either we must
jug them, securely, for a week or two, or we must arrest them. On the
whole, it might be wiser to let them go free--let them make a try for
the treasure, unmolested. When they fail and retire, we can begin."
"Your last alternative doesn't sound particularly attractive to me--or
to you, either, I fancy."
"This isn't going to be a particularly attractive quest, if we want to
succeed," said Croyden. "Pirate's gold breeds pirate's ways, I
reckon--blood and violence and sudden death. We'll try to play it
without death, however, if our opponents will permit. Such title, as
exists to Parmenter's hoard, is in me, and I am not minded to
relinquish it without a struggle. I wasn't especially keen at the
start, but I'm keen enough, now--and I don't propose to be blocked by
two rogues, if there is a way out."
"And the way out, according to your notion, is to be our own jailers,
think you?" said Macloud. "Well, we can chew on it--the manner of
procedure is apt to keep us occupied a few hours."
They took the next train, on the Electric Line, to Washington, Macloud
having telephoned ahead and made an appointment with Senator
Rickrose--whom, luckily, they found at the Capital--to meet them at the
Metropolitan Club for luncheon. At Fourteenth Street, they changed to a
Connecticut Avenue car, and, dismounting at Seventeenth and dodging a
couple of automobiles, entered the Pompeian brick and granite building,
the home of the Club which has the most representative membership in
the country.
Macloud was on the non-resident list, and the door-man, with the memory
for faces which comes from long practice, greeted him, instantly, by
name, though he had not seen him for months.
"Yes, Mr. Macloud, Senator Rickrose just came in," he said.
They met the Senator in the Red Room. He was very tall, with a tendency
to corpulency, which, however, was lost in his great height; very
dignified, and, for one of his service, very young--of immense
influence in the councils of his party, and the absolute dictator in
his own State. Inheriting a superb machine from a "matchless
leader,"--who died in the harness--he had developed it into a well
nigh perfect organization for political control. All power was in his
hands, from the lowest to the highest, he ruled with a sway as absolute
as a despot. His word was the ultimate law--from it an appeal did not
lie.
"How are you, old fellow?" he said to Macloud, dropping a hand on his
shoulder. "I haven't seen you for a long time--and, Mr. Croyden, I
think I have met you in Northumberland. I'm glad, indeed, to see you
both." He touched a bell. "Take the orders!" he said, to the boy.
"Senator!" said Macloud, a little later, when they had finished
luncheon. "I want to ask a slight favor--not political however--so it
won't have to be endorsed by the organization."
The Senator laughed. "In that event, it is granted before you ask. What
is it I can do?"
"Have the Secretary of the Navy issue us a permit to camp on Greenberry
Point."
"Where the devil is Greenberry Point?" said Rickrose.
"Across the Severn River from Annapolis."
Rickrose turned in his chair and glanced over the dining-room. Then he
raised his hand to the head waiter.
"Has the Secretary of the Navy had luncheon?" he asked.
"Yes, sir--before you came in."
The Senator nodded.
"We would better go over to the Department, at once, or we shall miss
him," he said. "Chevy Chase is the drawing card, in the afternoon."
The reception hour was long passed, but the Secretary was in and would
see Senator Rickrose. He came forward to meet him--a tall, middle-aged,
well-groomed man, with sandy hair, whose principal recommendation for
the post he filled was the fact that he was the largest contributor to
the campaign fund in his State, and his senior senator needed him in
his business, and had refrigerated him into the Cabinet for safe
keeping--that being the only job which insured him from being a
candidate for the Senator's own seat. It is a great game, is politics!
"Mr. Secretary!" said Rickrose, "my friends want a permit to camp for
two weeks on Greenberry Point."
"Greenbury Point!" said the Secretary, vaguely--"that's somewhere out
in San Francisco harbor?"
"Not the Greenberry Point they mean," the Senator replied. "It's down
at Annapolis--across the Severn from the Naval Academy, and forms part
of that command, I presume. It is waste land, unfortified and wind
swept."
"Oh! to be sure. I know it. Why wouldn't the Superintendent give you a
permit?" turning to Macloud. "It is within his jurisdiction."
"We didn't think to ask him," said Macloud. "We supposed it was
necessary to apply direct to you."
"They are not familiar with the customs of the service," explained
Rickrose, "and, as I may run down to see them, just issue the permit to
me and party. The Chairman of the Naval Affairs Committee is inspecting
the Point, if you need an excuse."
"Oh, no! none whatever--however, a duplicate will be forwarded to the
Superintendent. If it should prove incompatible with the interests of
the service," smiling, "he will inform the Department, and we shall
have to revoke it."
He rang for his stenographer and dictated the permit. When it came in,
he signed it and passed it over to Rickrose.
"Anything else I can do for you, Senator?" he asked.
"Not to-day, thank you, Mr. Secretary," Rickrose answered.
"Do you actually intend to come down?" asked Macloud, when they were in
the corridor. "That will be bully."
He shot a look at Croyden. His face was a study. Hunting the Parmenter
treasure, with the Chairman of the Naval Affairs Committee as a
disinterested spectator, was rather startling, to say the least. The
Senator's reply reassured them.
"Impossible!" he said. "The campaign opens next week, and I'm drawn as
a spell-binder in the Pacific States. That figurehead was ruffling his
feathers on you, just to show himself, so I thought I'd comb him down a
bit. You'll experience no difficulty, I fancy. If you do, wire me, and
I'll get busy. I've got to go over to the State Department now, so I'll
say good-bye--anything else you want let me know."
"Next for a sporting goods shop," said Macloud as they went down the
steps into Pennsylvania Avenue; "for a supply of small arms and
ammunition--and, incidentally, a couple of tents. We can get a few
cooking utensils in Annapolis, but we will take our meals at Carvel
Hall. I think neither of us is quite ready to turn cook."
"I am sure, I'm content!" laughed Croyden. "We can hire a horse and
buggy by the week, and keep them handy--better get a small tent for the
horse, while we're about it."
They went to a shop on F Street, where they purchased three tents of
suitable size, two Winchester rifles, and a pair of Colt's military
revolvers with six-and-a-half inch barrels, and the necessary
ammunition. These they directed should be sent to Annapolis
immediately. Cots and blankets could be procured there, with whatever
else was necessary.
They were bound up F Street, toward the Electric Station, when Macloud
broke out.
"If we had another man with us, your imprisonment idea would not be so
difficult--we could bag our game much more easily, and guard them more
securely when we had them. As it is, it's mighty puzzling to
arrange."
"True enough!" said Croyden, "but where is the man who is
trustworthy--not to mention willing to take the risk, of being killed
or tried for murder, for someone else's benefit? They're not many like
you, Colin."
A man, who was looking listlessly in a window just ahead, turned away.
He bore an air of dejection, and his clothes, while well cut, were
beginning to show hard usage and carelessness.
"Axtell!" Macloud observed--"and on his uppers!"
"There's our man!" exclaimed Croyden. "He is down hard, a little money
with a small divide, if successful, will get him. What do you say?"
"Nothing!" replied Macloud. "It's up to you."
Axtell saw them; he hesitated, whether to speak or to go on. Croyden
solved the question.
"Hello! Axtell, what are you doing here?" he said, extending his hand.
Axtell grasped it, as a drowning man a straw.
"You're kind to ask, Mr. Croyden! Mighty kind in one who lost so much
through us."
"You were not to blame--Royster's responsible, and he's gone----"
"To hell!" Axtell interrupted, bitterly. "May he burn forever!"
"Amen to that wish!" Croyden smiled. "Meanwhile, can I do anything for
you? You're having a run of hard luck, aren't you?"
For a moment, Axtell did not answer--he was gulping down his thoughts.
"I am," he said. "I've just ten dollars to my name. I came here
thinking the Congressmen, who made piles through our office, would get
me something, but they gave me the marble stare. I was good enough to
tip them off and do favors for them, but they're not remembering me
now. Do you know where I can get a job?"
"Yes--I'll give you fifty dollars and board, if you will come with us
for two weeks. Will you take it?"
"Will I take it?--Well, rather!"
"What you're to do, with Mr. Macloud and myself, we will disclose
later. If, then, you don't care to aid us, we must ask you to keep
silence about it."
"I don't want to know anything!" said Axtell. "I'll do my part, and ask
no questions--and thank you for trusting me. You're the first man since
our failure, who hasn't hit me in the face--don't you think I
appreciate it?"
"Very good!" said Croyden. "Have you any other baggage?" nodding toward
a small bag, which Axtell had in his hand.
"No."
"Then, come along--we're bound for Annapolis, and the car leaves in ten
minutes."
X