seem to be something of an
elevation in the center. Let's run in as close as we can, Verona."

By this time we were all grouped in the bow, stretchin' our necks and
gazin' interested.

"The mound!" suddenly sings out Rupert, pointin' excited. "The
treasure mound! I told you I'd find it."

"Huh!" says Old Hickory. "You forgot to mention, however, that you
would need Miss Verona and Torchy to do the finding for you."

Well, no need goin' into details, but that's how Vee and me happened to
get counted in as reg'lar treasure hunters, to share and share alike.
We was elected right on the spot.

"And now," says Old Hickory, grabbin' up a spade from the bottom of the
boat, "now we--"

"Now we will go back to the yacht and get some sleep," announces
Auntie. "I've had treasure hunting enough for one night. So have you,
Matthew Ellins, if you only knew it."

Old Hickory shrugs his shoulders. He drops the spade. Then he lets go
of a yawn.

"Oh, well!" says he. "If that's the way you feel about it."

"What!" says Vee. "Go another whole day without knowing whether--"

"Certainly," cuts in Auntie. "I'm so sleepy I couldn't tell a doubloon
from a doughnut. Ho-ho-hum! Let's be getting back."

It wasn't much after six when we made the yacht, but the whole crew
seems to be up and stirrin' around. As we comes alongside they sort of
groups themselves into a gawp committee forward, and I caught them
passin' the smile and nudge to each other. The two sailors that mans
the landin' stairs are on the broad grin. It's well for them that
neither Auntie nor Old Hickory seems to notice. I did, though, and
trails behind the others gettin' out.

"What's all the comedy for?" I demands.

"Nothing at all, sir," says one.

Then the other breaks in with, "Any luck, sir?"

"Sure!" says I. "We saw a swell sunrise."

I'm wonderin', though, why all them hired hands should be givin' us the
merry face.

CHAPTER XV

PASSING THE JOKE BUCK

I don't mind admittin' that this treasure-huntin' stuff does get you.
Course, while I was only an outsider, with no ticket even for a
brokerage bite at the gate receipts, I wasn't runnin' any temperature
over the prospects.

But now it was different. Vee and I had gone out and shown this poor
prune of a Captain Killam where his bloomin' island was, we'd rescued
Auntie and Old Hickory from bein' stuck in the mud, and we'd been
officially counted in as possible prize winners.