umborough laden with antiquities, and writing his name large upon each.
He, David, would have no right to any of them. Besides, how could he
miss the intense joy of digging in Rumborough Camp, of hearing his spade
strike with a hollow "clink" against some iron casket or rusty piece of
armour? Perhaps they might even be lucky enough to find a skull! It
was too much to resist.

"I'll come," he said slowly. "I know it's wrong, but I'll come. And
I'm not a bit afraid, so you needn't think that."

This settled, they continued to talk over the details of the
expedition--the time, the tools, and so on. Here, as Ambrose had hoped,
David proved of much service. He fixed at once on the best hour to
start. It must be quite early in the morning, between five and six
o'clock, so that they might be there and back before they were missed.

"We can get out by the garden door," he said; "and if they do see us
coming back it won't matter much, because we shall have got the things."

David further suggested that a sack would be useful to bear home the
treasure, laid a deep plan for the capture of Andrew's pickaxe, and
threw himself by degrees heart and soul into the project.

Ambrose had not the least fear now that he would draw back or relax his
efforts. He knew that once David had made up his mind he would prove a
stout support all the way through, and this was a great relief, for he
began to see that there were dangers attending the expedition, and would
not have gone alone on any account. It occurred to him, especially when
he was in bed and it was quite dark, that Rumborough Common was a
favourite haunt of gypsies, tramps, and all sorts of lawless wandering
people.

In old days it had been a noted spot for highwaymen, and though Ambrose
liked to read about them and their daring exploits, he shivered to think
of meeting them in person alone. It was some comfort to remember that
there were no highwaymen now, but there were plenty of perils left to
think of and make him uncomfortable, and at such times he half regretted
having planned the expedition at all. Now, however, he could fall back
on the thought that David was going too, and there was such support in
this that it lost half its terrors.

On the evening before the day fixed for the expedition all was ready.
The pickaxe, secured in one of Andrew's unguarded moments, two spades,
and a large sack lay hidden in the thick ivy which covered the wall near
the garden g