strength there, he
wriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from the
wreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the pain
which came and went.

"Got my arm free," Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel for
her in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feebly
and something rolled toward him.

"What's this?"

Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He could
hear her exploring movements.

"It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from."

"Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose."

"Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's a
hole in it--Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money.
There's more in the bag." She pressed a disk about as large as a
half-dollar into Val's palm.

"Pirate loot--" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking of
where they were and what had happened was to be welcomed.

"Val"--he could hear her move uneasily--"remember that old saying:
'Pieces of eight--Ralestones' fate?"

"All good families have curses," he reminded her.

"And good families can have--can have accidents, too."

There could be no answer to that. Nor did Val feel like answering. The
savage pain in his legs and back had given way to a kind of numbness. A
chill not caused by the dank air crawled up his body. What--what if his
injuries were worse than he had thought? What if--if--

The dripping of the water seemed louder, and it no longer fell with the
same rhythm. Ricky must be counting money from the bag. He could hear
the clink of metal against stone as she dropped a piece.

"Don't lose it," he muttered foggily.

"Lose what?"

"Your pieces of eight."

"What do you mean?"

"You just dropped a piece."

"I haven't touched--Val, do--do you feel worse?"

But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped the
money, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against the
clay. _Thud, thud, clink, thud._ That was not water dripping nor coin
rattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant--

"Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!"

Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into the
flesh. "Where?"

"I don't know. Listen!"

The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it sounded
through that part of the passage still remaining open.

"It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should