sure."

What do you know about that? Admits she carried on as late as forty!
And here I'd supposed she was born scowlin' about the time tabasco
sauce was invented. Well, once more I got to revise my ideas about
her. Maybe she ain't any frostier underneath than the rest of us.

"Allow me, Cornelia, to present you with the palm," says Mr. Ellins,
handin' her a palmetto leaf. "As a war dancer you betray evidence of
previous proficiency. Doesn't she, Torchy?"

"I'll bet she could have had Mrs. Sittin' Bull crowded into the back
drop," says I grinnin'.

And Auntie returns the grin.

You might know it would be Rupert who'd break the spell.

"I am wondering," says be, "just how we are going to get all this
treasure on board the yacht without the crew knowing all about it."

"Why wonder?" says Old Hickory. "Leave it to Torchy."

"Ah, say!" I protests.

"No alibis," insists Mr. Ellins, slappin' me encouragin' on the
shoulder. "Strategy is what we want from you, young man. Plenty of it
under that brilliant hair of yours. We'll give you three minutes."

And of course, havin' it batted up to me that way by the big boss, and
with Vee gazin' at me expectant, I had to produce.

"You'll stand for any little tale I tell 'em, eh?" I asks.

"Absolutely," says he.

So we gets to work with the dozen or more canvas sacks that Rupert has
been foxy enough to bring along. In the bottom we puts a shovelful of
sand; then we dumps in the gold pieces and jewels promiscuous, with
more sand on top, not fillin' any sack more'n a third full. That made
'em easy to handle, and when they was tossed into the launch there was
no suspicious jingle or anything like that.

Half an hour later we was chuggin' away from the little natural jackpot
that we'd opened so successful, headed for the _Agnes_. And, believe
me, the old yacht looks mighty homey and invitin', lyin' there in the
calm of the mornin' with all her awnin's spread and a trickle of blue
smoke driftin' up from the forward galley.

"Any orders?" asks Mr. Ellins, as we starts to run alongside.

"I got a few words to say to them early-bird sailors that's
house-cleanin' the decks," says I. "I'm goin' to ask you to stay in
the boat, Mr. Ellins, and look worried. The rest can go aboard.
Captain Killam might rout out the chef and get action on an early
breakfast."

"Ay, ay, Captain Torchy," says Old Hickory. "Here we are, with a
smiling reception committee to greet us,