st that held the Spanish
doubloons--that lies under the sand in the sloop?"

"Exactly. And now I shall know whether you are the true prince or
not, because he always succeeds in the tasks he undertakes to win
the princess."

It was low tide, such a tide as had all but lured me to my death in
the cave. One could go and come from the beach along the rocks,
without climbing the steep path up the cliff. It was not long
before Dugald was back again with spade and pick. He tore off the
shrunken, sun-dried boards from the cabin roof, and fell to work.

It was not, after all, a labor of Hercules. The cabin was small
and the chest large. I watched with the pride of proprietorship
the swift ease with which the steel-sinewed arms of the Scot made
the caked sand fly. Then the spade struck something which sent
back a dull metallic sound through the muffling sand.

I gave a little shriek of excitement. Hardly could I have been
more thrilled if I had believed the chest still to contain the
treasure of which it had been ravished. It was filled to its
brass-bound lid with romance, if not with gold.

A little more and it lay clear to our view, a convex surface of
dark smoky brown, crossed by three massive strips of tarnished
brass. Dugald dug down until the chest stood free to half its
height; then by its handles--I recognized the "great hand-wrought
loops of metal," of the diary--we dragged it from its bed, and drew
it forth into the cockpit.

For a little while we sat before it in happy contemplation. It was
indeed for its own sake quite well worth having, that sturdy old
chest. Even in an antique shop I should have succumbed to it at
once; how much more when we had dug it up ourselves from a wrecked
sloop on a desert island, and knew all its bloody and delightful
history.

At length, kneeling before it, I raised with an effort the heavy
lid.

"Empty, of course--no more brown bags. But oh, Dugald, had ever a
girl such a wonderful bride's chest as this? O--oh!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, only there is a crack in the bottom, running all the way
along where it joins the side."

"Warped a bit, I suppose. No matter, it can be easily
repaired--crack? I say, lassie, look here!"

Under the pressure of Dugald's fingers the floor of the chest was
swinging upward on an invisible hinge. Between it and the true
bottom was a space of about three inches in depth. It seemed to be
filled with a layer of yellowed cotto