AN INDIAN MOUND
When the girls with Winston and Peggy had watched the bottle until its
gleaming red sails could no longer be seen, they had retraced their
steps toward the other side of the island.
“I feel sure that we are to be rescued before many moons,” Eleanor said.
“That is what Indians called a month. I go you one better than that,”
Betsy put in. “I’ll say that we’ll be back in Vine Haven before many
suns.”
“Speaking of Indians,” Virginia remarked, “Winston, do you suppose there
ever were Indians on this island?”
“I think so,” the lad replied. “In fact, one day when I was exploring, I
came upon a mound which I am confident was an Indian grave. I have often
thought I would like to go back there and dig into it. Some tribes, as
you know, buried really interesting things with their dead, believing
that the departing soul would have use of them in the world to which
they were going.”
“Where did you find that mound, Winston? Could we visit it now?” Eleanor
inquired. “We haven’t anything else that needs doing, have we?”
“No, indeed,” the lad replied. “We have fish enough for supper and for
breakfast, too, for that matter.”
As he talked, he led the way toward the densely wooded hill that rose in
the middle of the narrow, though long island. On the top, under old
gnarled pine trees, they came upon the mound which Winston had seen on a
former visit. It did indeed look like an Indian grave.
“I wish we had shovels and things,” Betsy said.
“I’ll tell you what!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Let’s pretend we are Indians,
really, and, of course, they would have had no utensils or implements.
Now, if they wanted to dig, what would they do?”
“They would find rocks, perhaps, that had been hollowed out by waves,”
Margaret had just said, when Winston leaped up from the ground where he
had been kneeling and gave a whoop, as an inspiration came to him. “You
girls wait here,” he said, “while Peggy and I run down to our hut. We
have dozens of huge shells. We’ll each bring back as many as we can
carry. They’ll make the best kind of trowels.”
Away the sister and brother ran and during their absence, the girls
knelt on the dry pine needles to inspect more closely the Indian grave.
“I wonder how long it has been here. Years and years I suppose,” Eleanor
said.
“If we did find interesting relics in this mound, to whom would they
belong?” Megsy inquired.
“Why to Winston and Peggy, I should think, since they first discovered
it.”
“I don’t know when I’ve met a boy I like better,” Eleanor said, seating
herself on the ground. “I felt right at once as though I had known
Winston for a long time. Don’t you like him, Virginia?”
“Yes, indeed.” The older girl rising had turned to look toward the
mainland. She shaded her eyes and gazed into the gleaming sunlight, but
she could not see far because of the cloud of mist.
“A boat might be nearly here and we could not see it,” Eleanor began,
when a shout announced that Winston and Peggy were returning.
The shells were indeed large and strong. One was given to each girl.
Then Winston suggested: “Suppose we work in relays. In that way we will
not all be tired at once.”
“You and Virginia may be the first relay,” Betsy said generously. The
older girl laughed. “No, indeed, I know you are just wild to begin to
ferret out the mystery. Suppose you and Eleanor begin. Five minutes will
be allowed each pair of diggers. Megsy, since you have a wrist watch,
you may be time-keeper.”
But many a five minutes had passed before much of the earth had been
removed. It was decided, because of his superior strength that Winston
might have a turn all by himself until he announced that his arm was
tired. It was then that some real headway was noticed. However, it was
Eleanor who was digging when a hard object was struck. Great was the
excitement as they all crowded around. “Maybe it’s Indian crockery. You
know what vessels and things were buried in their graves.”
“Be careful how you hit it, Betsy, for if it is crockery, it will surely
break,” Sally warned. But the something which they were rapidly
uncovering did not resemble anything which Indians were known to make.
“It’s a small copper chest,” Winston announced at last.
Betsy sprang to her feet and leaped about joyfully. “Oh, ho, ho!” she
cried. “This is Stevenson’s Treasure Island, I do believe.”
Winston’s eyes glowed with excitement as he looked over at Eleanor, who
was also digging. “I do believe Betsy is right. Of course it isn’t
_that_ Treasure Island, but smugglers, at some time, may have buried
this here.”
Having removed the hard packed dirt from the top of the box, the lad
tried to pry it out but it was too firmly embedded. “We’ll have to be
patient and dig some more,” he said. Although the boy’s fingers were
almost numb from holding the handless implement for so long, he was so
eager to unearth the find, that he did not want to rest, but Virginia
begged him to let her take his place for a time.
“All righto!” he sang out as a new thought suggested itself to him. “And
I’ll break a strong staff from a tree and make a lever out of it.” He
leaped away to accomplish this, and while he was gone, the girls
redoubled their efforts.
[Illustration: “Girls! Girls! Call Winston. The cover moved ever so
slightly.”]
“I never in all my life dreamed that such exciting adventures ever
really happened,” Betsy was saying, when Eleanor cried: “Girls! Girls!
Call Winston. The cover moved ever so slightly. I believe if he has
found a stout stick, he could pry it off.”
The lad came bounding back when he heard a chorus of excited voices
shouting his name. Wedging his sharp pointed stick under the cover of
the box, he soon pried it lose. Together he and Eleanor lifted it. There
were two leather bags in the box and they were so heavy that it was with
difficulty that the lad lifted them.
On the inside of the copper lid was inscribed the name of the one who
had buried the treasure. The girls were sure that they knew what they
were to hear before Winston could decipher it.
“It’s your grandfather Burgess’ buried fortune,” Betsy told Eleanor, but
before that maiden could reply, an exclamation of amazement from the lad
caused them all to turn in his direction. “Eleanor,” he cried, “is
_your_ name Burgess? Why didn’t you tell me before? My mother’s maiden
name was Dorinda Burgess.”
And then, as though that were not enough excitement for one hour, there
arose below them on the beach, a loud hallooing. Winston leaped to a
spot where he could look down. “Girls,” he cried, but there was no need
to call, for they were closely following him. “There is a launch
anchored just beyond the shoal and three boys have come ashore in a
dory.”
“It’s Benjy and two of the boys from Drexel Academy!” Barbara whirled to
hug Margaret. “Oh, girls, aren’t you glad we were shipwrecked, now that
we are to be rescued?”