Bill Returns The Call
They weighed the pros and cons of Bee’s theory for the better part of
an hour. Hal advanced all the arguments he could think of against it,
but Jack sided with Bee almost from the first. “I don’t say you’re
right, Bee,” he stated, “but I do think it’s a pretty good theory.
And as we haven’t anything better to go by we might as well grab the
theory. If that tree was there when Old Verny lived here it’s fair to
suppose that it was near the cabin; perhaps right alongside of it. And
maybe when he buried his chest of treasure he buried it under the tree.
I guess we’d all be mightily surprised if we found it there, though!”
“It’s somewhere near the tree, anyway,” declared Bee with enthusiastic
conviction.
“Then,” asked Hal, “what about your theory that the cabin stood inside
of the triangle you figured out?”
“Well, the tree is only about twenty feet out of the triangle, and if
the cabin stood to the left of the tree it would be practically inside
it, you see. I wonder, now, which side of the cabin Old Verny would
have planted a tree. That would have been on the west side.”
“He’d have planted it on the south or east side, I would think,” said
Jack. “But maybe he didn’t know much about such things. Then, too, the
tree may have sprung up from a seed dropped by accident.”
“I guess,” decided Bee, “we’d better assume that the tree was in front
of the cabin, perhaps near the door. That would be the south side,
where it would be sheltered pretty well from winds and would get lots
of sunlight.” He looked down the slope and examined the ground. “It
isn’t very steep right there, either.”
“It’s pretty near high-water, though,” Hal objected. “In winter a storm
would drive the waves almost into the cabin, wouldn’t they, Jack?”
“N-no, I don’t believe the water ever gets up that high because, you
see, Toller’s Rock jutting out there like that is a good deal of a
protection. Still, it seems to me more likely that the cabin stood
higher up.”
“Well, we’ll dig at the tree first,” said Bee, “and then
we’ll――er――radiate out from it.”
“I’m no silly radiator,” grumbled Hal. “Besides, I have blisters on my
poor little paws.”
“Any more excuses?” laughed Bee.
“Well, I think we should have some fish for supper. Tell you what,
you two; I’ll catch fish while you dig up the treasure. If I’m not
here when you find it you won’t have to divide up with me; see? I’ll
what-do-you-call-it-em-relinquish all claim to it, Bee. Do it for you
in writing, if you like.”
“No one can read your writing,” responded Bee unkindly. “And, anyhow,
you’re going to stay right here and swing a pick.”
When, finally, Bee’s impatience would brook no further delay and he
gave the word to start work, the three descended to the scene of
operations, shovels and pick in hand. Even Hal was slightly excited
and plied his pick with a good will. The trunk of the old tree was
uncovered and they found themselves digging through a veritable network
of roots. It seemed as though the tree, unable to make its normal
growth above ground, had determined to work off its natural energies
below, for such a root-system as they encountered appeared quite out
of proportion to the size of the tree. Bee ruled that the tree was not
to be injured and was very indignant when Hal carelessly sent his pick
squarely through a big root. Whereupon Hal declared that he didn’t
pretend to be a fancy picker and that if Bee wasn’t satisfied with the
way he was doing it he (Bee) could plaguey well do it himself!
It took them over an hour to prove to their satisfaction――and
disappointment――that the treasure was not concealed within three feet
in any direction from the tree. Then, their enthusiasm somewhat abated,
they rested on their tools and considered what to do next. It was
finally decided that they should dig a series of trenches up the slope,
starting at the tree. Luckily there were few rocks thereabouts and the
soil provided easier labor. They had just started on the first trench
when Hal said:
“There’s Bill the Pirate down there, fellows.”
He was just swinging his dory up to the little wharf when they looked,
and presently he appeared over the bank of the river with a bucket on
his arm and headed toward them.
“Now what do you suppose he wants?” growled Hal. “And what’s he got in
the pail?”
“He’s probably returning your compass and fog-horn,” said Bee. “His
conscience has troubled him.”
But when Bill Glass drew near it became evident that the pail held not
a compass and a fog-horn, but clams!
“Howdy do, mates?” he greeted, coming to a stand and setting the pail
down. “Thought maybe you’d like a few clams. I been diggin’ an’ got
’bout a bushel of ’em. Fond o’ clams, be ye?”
“Very,” responded Jack politely. “How much are they?”
“Oh, well, I won’t make no charge today. If you like ’em you just let
me know an’ I’ll fetch some more some day an’ you can pay me for ’em. I
usually gets thirty cents for that many.”
“We’d rather pay for them, thank you,” said Hal stiffly.
“You can’t,” replied Bill with a smile. “They ain’t for sale today.
They be a present from a neighbor, mates. I’ll take ’em up and dump
’em somewheres so’s I can have the bucket.” But he didn’t start at
once, after Bee and Jack had somewhat embarrassedly thanked him, but
stood looking at the excavations they had dug around the tree. That is,
his good eye looked at the hole in the ground and his glass eye gazed
dreamily out to sea.
“I knowed you’d do that afore long,” he observed presently.
“Do what?” demanded Hal truculently.
“Dig by the tree. They most of ’em does. I did myself, mates. Just the
same, I wouldn’t been surprised if you’d missed it, cause the old tree
blowed down ’bout ten years ago an’ this one ain’t never made much of a
showin’.”
“Oh!” said Bee. “Then――then this has been dug up before?”
“Lots o’ times, mate. It’s what you might call a fav’rite spot. Ain’t
found much, I cal’ate.”
“Nothing yet,” responded Bee, with a sigh. “We thought that probably
the old tree stood near the cabin.”
“Maybe, maybe; I don’t seem to remember it.”
“Seems to me it’s mighty funny,” observed Hal, “that you don’t
remember where the cabin stood if you were around here then.”
“I was a youngster then,” replied Bill, “an’ forty year’s a long time,
mate. Then, too, my memory ain’t what it used to be.”
“But don’t you recall whether the cabin was on this side of the
island?” asked Bee.
“Well, I’m nigh on to certain it wa’n’t on any other side,” replied
Bill Glass reflectively.
“Then it must have been on this side,” concluded Bee eagerly.
“’Tain’t unlikely, ’tain’t unlikely, mate. Have you found your oars an’
things yet what was stolen from ye?”
“Not yet,” answered Jack, with an apprehensive glance at Hal, who,
leaning on the handle of the pick, was viewing Bill Glass with frank
dislike. “We――we haven’t taken any steps in the matter yet.”
Bill shook his head. “Wouldn’t leave it too long, mates,” he said.
“Them Portigees be slippery critters. Like as not the feller as took
them things has sold ’em by now over to Tuckersville. Would you know
’em again if you seen ’em?”
“Yes, even if they’d been painted!” snapped Hal.
“That’s fortunate, then, for you might look in the junk shops an’ get
’em back. Well, I’ll take these clams along up. Wish you good luck,
mates.”
“I’ll go with you and find a pan or something to put them in,” said
Jack. Bill was silent until they reached the tent and had emptied the
clams out into the receptacle Jack provided. Then, with a jerk of a
big, stubby thumb over his shoulder:
“He don’t like me, that young feller. I know his father. Used to sail
on his boats. Fine man, but pig-headed as all get-out, he be. Well, so
long, mate. Hope you like them clams.”
“Thank you,” answered Jack. “We’re very much obliged to you. I wish,
though, you’d let us pay you for them.”
Bill shook his head as he swung his pail to his arm and thrust his
big hands into the pockets of his trousers, which, today, were tucked
into a pair of rubber boots. “I don’t want no money for ’em, mate,” he
growled. “I be in debt to ye, in a way o’ speakin’, an’ Honest Bill
Glass always pays his debts, mate. Cal’ate we be in for a storm afore
long.” And Bill tramped off slowly down the hill to the wharf, leaving
Jack to wonder what he had meant.
“In debt to us,” muttered Jack. “Now awhat did he mean by that?”
“He meant,” said Hal, when Jack repeated the remark, “that he owed me
for the things he stole out of my boat. What else could he mean?”
“He might have meant,” replied Bee thoughtfully, “that he had a grudge
against us. If he has I hope he’ll forget to pay us back.”
“I don’t believe it was that,” Jack doubted. “He seemed quite friendly.
He wouldn’t have brought the clams unless he meant well, I guess.”
“They’re probably poisoned,” said Hal promptly. “You don’t catch me
eating any of them!”
“Oh, don’t be a silly goat,” begged Bee. “What would he want to poison
us for? Besides how the dickens could anyone put poison in a clam? Look
at them; they’re closed as tight as a――a drum.”
“I wouldn’t trust him, though,” responded Hal, unconvinced. “A man who
will steal will do anything.”
“Poppycock! You’ve got an overwrought imagination, whatever that is.
You ought to write detective stories, Hal. ‘The Poisoned Clams, or the
Pirate’s Revenge!’ How’s that for a corking title?”