ompass if I don't know nothin' else. I tell you, _this is the spot_.
Right below our feet lies--lies--"

"The treasures of Golconda!" suggested the irreverent Corny. In the
past he had held faith in this same "buried treasure," but now to see
so many other people so earnestly interested in it, changed the whole
aspect for him.

But the doughty Captain, self-constituted master of ceremonies
disdained to notice the "Ne'er-do-well" of the countryside and in
stentorian tones, with his hands trumpet-wise before his mouth, he
bellowed:

"Now, my hearties, dig! DIG!"

Each was armed with something to use, Jim had brought some of the
engineering tools from the "Pad" and had distributed these among the
boys. Ephraim had borrowed an old hoe from a farmer near by, Wicky had
caught up a pick-axe from his own wagon--he had meant to leave it at
his brother's cabin but forgot; Chloe had seized a carving knife, and
the others had spoons, table knives, or whatever came handiest. Only
the Colonel and the Captain were without implements of some sort. Even
the jesting Corny had seized the fallen branch of a tree and broken
its end into the semblance of a tool. It was he who first observed the
idleness of the two men most interested, and slapping Cap'n Jack upon
the shoulder, ordered:

"Dig, my hearty! DIG!"

"I--I'm a--a cripple!" answered the sailor, with offended dignity;
"and don't you know, you Simple Simon, 't they always has to be a head
to everything? Well, I 'low as how I'm the head to this here v'yage,
an' I'll spend my energy officerin' this trip!"

Corny laughed. Now that all was well at his home in the fields he
found the world the jolliest sort of place, and the "Lilies" the most
interesting people in it. Then he turned upon the Colonel, sitting
upon a soft hummock of weeds as near in shape to Billy's restful back
as possible.

"But, Cunnel, how 'bout you? I thought the 'treasure' was yours--in
part, anyway. Why aren't you up and at it? 'Findings are keepings',
you know. Up, man, and dig!"

The Colonel lifted sorrowful eyes to the jester's face, and murmured
in his tired voice:

"I cayn't. I never could. I shouldn't find it if I did. They ain't no
use. I couldn't. They won't. Nobody will. Not nigh _her_; not on My
Lady Cecilia's Manor. I've known that all along. But I _had_ to come.
Something made me, I don't know what. But I had to. Corny Stillwell,
do you know what day this is? Or ain't you no memory left in th