CONCLUSION
After a sleepless and restless night the excited little party of
treasure seekers repaired once more to the palm tree which marked the
spot so long sought by them.
"Got your knife, Sam?" exclaimed Grant. "Let's see how good a lumberman
you are."
"Ah'll hab dat ol' tree down in no time," cried Sam confidently, and
with his great heavy knife grasped firmly in his right hand he fiercely
attacked the unsuspecting tree. The wood was soft and before long began
to yield to Sam's blows.
"That'll just about finish up that knife," remarked Grant to Fred.
"Suppose it does," said Fred. "There's another hoop from that old cask
up at the cave and he can easily make another."
"Isn't a barrel of gold worth more than an old iron knife anyway?" said
John. "I should say so if you asked me."
"A barrel of gold wouldn't have done you much good when that shark was
after you though," said Grant grimly. "I guess just at that time Sam's
old iron knife was worth more to you than anything in the world."
"That's true," acknowledged John soberly. "I have no right to talk
against that knife."
"Come over here and give this tree a push," shouted George who was
bustling importantly around Sam. "You fellows seem to think this is a
party or something. Come over here and do some work."
No great amount of urging was required, however, and a moment later
every one in the party was standing about the tree, pushing and pulling
with all his might.
"She's beginning to give!" exclaimed George. "Keep it up!"
"Let Sam get to work for a minute or so more," suggested Grant. "About a
dozen more good blows will finish the job."
"Dat's right," agreed Sam readily. "Lemme at dat ol' tree agin."
As though it was his mortal enemy Sam attacked the unsuspecting palm
tree and dealt it such fierce blows that it soon required only a slight
exercise of strength to topple it over.
"There she is," panted George when the tree lay prostrate. "She's down
and now the only thing that stands between us and the treasure is a few
feet or yards of sand."
"Let's hope it's feet," said John.
"And that there are no rocks to go through either," added Fred.
"You certainly can think of more hard luck than any one I ever saw,
Fred," exclaimed George, pretending to be very much discouraged with his
friend. "Why do you always look on the dark side of things?"
"I don't. I just believe in being sensible about it, that's all."
"It seems to me you're always looking for trouble."
"By the way," said John, "you didn't get those shark teeth, did you,
Sam?"
"'Deed Ah didn't," exclaimed Sam, resting a moment from his exertions,
for he had already commenced to dig. "Ah done clean forgot 'em."
"Will that bring us hard luck?"
"Not at all," said George. "Sam said that one would bring you good luck
if you had it, but he didn't say it would be hard luck without it."
"I know that," said John, "but I thought that perhaps if you had a
chance to get one and didn't do it you might give yourself bad luck."
"You're as bad as Fred," exclaimed George disgustedly. "Why can't you
all be cheerful?"
"Why can't you all go to work is what I'd like to know?" exclaimed
Grant. "It seems to me that that is more important than luck."
"You're right, Grant," said George readily. "There's no such thing as
luck."
"There's such a thing as work, though," said Grant grimly. "Let's all do
some of it."
They fell to work with a will and dug busily and steadily for a long
time. A hole about four feet square was started and the boys were armed
with almost everything one could think of in place of real tools.
Sticks, flat pieces of rock, and hands almost more than anything else
were employed.
"It's a good thing for us we are digging in sand and not in clay,"
remarked Fred after some time had elapsed.
"I should say it is!" agreed John. "As it is, we aren't making a great
deal of headway it seems to me."
"Oh, yes, we are," exclaimed Grant. "The hole is at least a couple of
feet deep already."
"I wish we could all get in there at once," said George. "We could work
much faster then."
"Perhaps we won't have to go much deeper," said Grant hopefully.
"I think we shall though."
"Suppose we take turns down there with the knife," suggested Fred. "One
of us can loosen up the sand with it and then a couple more can get in
and throw it out."
"That's a good scheme," exclaimed John. "Give me the knife, Sam."
"Ah can do it mahself," protested Sam.
"No, you can't either," laughed John. "You've done enough work for
to-day anyway. Let me have it now and perhaps you can take another turn
at it later."
Reluctantly Sam gave up the knife and joined the others who stood and
watched John down in the hole. When he had loosened a considerable
amount of earth he climbed up and Fred and George took his place and
threw the loose sand out of the pit. This operation was repeated many
times with different ones doing the work. In this way the labor was
lightened and the hole grew amazingly.
It was George's turn with the knife and he was working tremendously. He
hacked and carved the sand, exerting himself to the utmost. All at once
the knife struck something hard that had a metallic ring to it.
"You've got it, Pop!" cried Grant excitedly. "You've got it sure!"
"Hurry up and dig around it," exclaimed Fred. "Let me do it."
"I can do it all right," said George, and he fell to work with even more
zeal than formerly.
Again and again his knife struck the metallic surface beneath him. His
companions, grouped all around the pit, riveted their gaze on him and
watched him with rapt attention. George dropped the knife and dug the
sand away with his hands. The black top of an iron chest presented
itself to the view of the fascinated onlookers.
"Can you move it, Pop?" cried Grant.
"I can't find the edge of it."
"Ah get 'im," said Sam suddenly, and he dropped into the pit and began
to work like a beaver. Their combined efforts soon cleared all the sand
from the top of the chest, which appeared to be about eighteen inches
square. On the top was a little handle with which to lift it.
"Lift it out, Sam!" cried John. "Lift it out!"
Sam exerted all his strength but could not budge the stocky little
chest. It was either extremely heavy or stuck fast. Every one who was
concerned in the matter was so interested in these operations that he
was entirely unconscious of everything except what was going on in the
pit right before their eyes.
"Dig it out a little more," advised Grant. "You can lift it then."
This proved to be true and a few moments later after a great pulling and
tugging Sam succeeded in raising the heavy little chest from its place.
Another great effort and he swung it up out of the pit where it was
pounced upon by Fred, John and Grant. Sam and George followed almost
instantly and an immediate inspection was made to see how it was to be
opened.
"There's no lock on--" began Grant eagerly, when he was strangely
interrupted.
"Ahoy, there!" came a shout and in amazement every one turned to see
whence came the hail. Its bow just grating on the beach, was a small
boat manned by four sailors; a half-mile off shore a large steamer was
riding at anchor. So engrossed had all the boys been in digging the pit
that they had not once noticed nor suspected its approach.
"Well," gasped John, "what do you think of that?"
"It means we get home all right anyway," exclaimed Fred. "Where do you
suppose it came from?"
"I don't even care," said George. "How about the treasure, Grant?"
"The chest is empty," replied Grant gazing ruefully into the barren
depths of the stout little iron box.
THE END
The Outdoor Chums SERIES
By CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
The Outdoor Chums
On the Lake
In the Forest
On the Gulf
After Big Game
On A House Boat
In the Big Woods
At Cabin Point
For lovers of the great outdoors (and what boy is not?) this "Outdoor
Chums" series will be a rare treat. After you have read the first book
and followed the fortunes of the "Chums," you will realize the pleasure
the other seven volumes have in store for you.
These rollicking lads know field, forest, mountain, sea and stream--and
the books contain much valuable information on woodcraft and the living
of an outdoor life.
The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
NEW YORK, N. Y.