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 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
 CHAPTER XXV
Mr. Folsom Makes An Offer

“What?” exclaimed Mr. Folsom. “How? When was this? Come,

come, let’s have it, Harry!”
So Hal, Bee assisting and Jack corroborating when called on, told
the story from the time they had been awakened by the cannon until
they reached Bill Glass’s cabin. After that Bill himself took up the
tale. “Plucky they was, Mr. Folsom,” he said in concluding. “Why
bless ye, sir, ’twan’t no night for a dog to be out! Most blowed away
many’s the time we did, sir. One thing, sir, be plumb certain, an’ that
be that them boys saved more’n one life aboard the schooner last
night! Take my word for it, sir! An’ Honest Bill Glass don’t lie!”
Hal frowned. He had grown to like Bill Glass much better since
yesterday, but he didn’t think it good taste on Bill’s part to insist on
his honesty when they all knew that he had helped himself liberally
to their belongings! But Hal’s father only nodded.
“I believe you, Bill,” he said. “Boys, this is a big surprise to me. I
didn’t know how the life saving crew learned of the wreck, but it
hadn’t occurred to me that it might have been through you. I don’t
see but what you’re a parcel of young heroes! Well, I am certainly
grateful, and I think the men will be when they learn of it. It appears
to me, Herrick, that you’re the prime hero of all, eh?”
“Oh, no, sir.” Jack shook his head. “We all had a hand in it.”
“It was Jack’s idea, though,” said Hal. “We’d never have thought of
getting to the railroad, would we, Bee?”
“Speak for yourself,” replied Bee with dignity. “I’d have thought of
it—ultimately; perhaps this morning!”
 “And I haven’t forgotten, Herrick, that you saved these two
simpletons from an unpleasant experience, at least, and perhaps
worse,” continued Mr. Folsom. He was looking at Jack very hard with
his sharp eyes, and Jack, embarrassed, bent over his cooking. “You
don’t look very much like your father, but I guess you must be—a
whole lot.”
“He be more like his grandfather,” agreed Bill Glass with
conviction. “I mind a story they used to tell about the old Cap’n, sir.
Likely you’ve hearn it. ’Twere in the old days afore the railroad came
to Greenhaven an’ we had to go to Shepard’s Falls to get the cars.
’Twas a three mile drive an’ like as not when you’d get there the
train would be gone an’ there’d be no other till afternoon. Seems old
Cap’n Herrick driv over one day an’ afore he could get his horse put
up an’ leg it to the station, the train was a-pullin’ out. The Cap’n he
waved an’ he shouted, but they didn’t see him an’ kep’ on a-goin’. So
the Cap’n he lit out after the train. He had pretty long legs, the
Cap’n did, an’ they say as long as they could see him from the
station he was gainin’ on the train every leap! He cal’ated to catch
up with it at Saunder’s Mill, which be only half a mile away, for in
them days the train used to stop maybe three or four minutes at a
station. Well, when the Cap’n got to Saunder’s there wa’n’t any train
in sight. The agent there was on the platform, though, an’ the Cap’n
he asks: ‘Young feller, have you seen a train go by here?’ Well, the
agent he stared an’ he says, ‘Yes, sir, the Newb’ryport train just went
out.’ ‘How far ahead be she?’ asks the Cap’n. ‘Maybe a half-mile by
this time,’ says the agent. ‘Sho!’ says the Cap’n. ‘Blessed if she ain’t
gainin’ on me!’ An’ off he set again down the track. Well, sir, he
hadn’t gone more’n a half-mile farther, likely, when he sees the train.
Seems they’d got a hot bearin’ or lost a spar or somethin’, an’ the
Cap’n he walks up and climbs aboard. An’ just then the conductor
comes along an’ sees him an’ says, ‘Why Cap’n Herrick, where’d you
come from?’ An’ the Cap’n, bein’ a little angry, says, ‘I come from
Shepard’s an’ I’d be in Newb’ryport now if your fool train hadn’t been
in my way!’”
 Jack laughed with the others and announced that dinner was
ready. There weren’t plates enough to go around, nor cups either,
but they got along somehow and everyone ate hungrily save Bill
Glass. Bill explained apologetically that he’d had his breakfast pretty
late—most eight o’clock—and wasn’t hungry yet! Mr. Folsom praised
the dinner and the cook and then announced that he would have to
get back to the tug.
“I guess we can start to haul her off pretty soon now. Want to
come along, Bill?”
Bill accepted the invitation eagerly. Hal asked if they couldn’t go
too, but Mr. Folsom said they might be in the way. “You can see
everything from here, boys. One thing you had better do, though,
Hal, and that’s take a trip home this afternoon and let your mother
see that you’re all right. You can spend the night and come back
here tomorrow if you haven’t had enough of it. Herrick, you come
along too and have some dinner with me this evening. I can’t
promise as good as you gave, but you won’t go hungry. Harry, come
and walk down to the beach with me.”
By half-past two the Jupiter was safely off the ledge and by three
the whole flotilla of boats had disappeared around Toller’s Rock. The
boys had meanwhile decided to follow Mr. Folsom’s advice and
return to town for the night. Hal was loath to leave their property
unprotected, prophesying that they’d find even the tent stolen in the
morning. But after he had removed almost everything movable
except the tent to the Crystal Spring he felt easier in his mind. They
were to take the sloop. The Crystal Spring had stood the gale well,
but she had managed to swing her stern onto a sand bank and it
took quick work to get her off before the tide fell. As they moved out
of the river mouth Hal waved a fond farewell to the Corsair.
“I shall never see you again,” he mourned. “Bill Glass said the
other day that he guessed he’d have to have a motor boat, fellows,
and here’s his chance.”
 “Look here,” said Bee, “I’m beginning to think we were all wrong
about the pirate. I don’t believe he stole those things, after all.”
“Well, who did then?” asked Hal.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet it wasn’t Bill Glass. I like Bill!”
The wind had died down to a fresh breeze out of the north, but
there was enough of it to send even the Crystal Spring along at a
good pace and it was only a little after five when she sidled into
Herrick’s Cove. Jack had tried to refuse Mr. Folsom’s invitation to
dinner, but the others would not hear of it.
“Besides,” said Hal, “he particularly wanted me to bring you. He—
there’s something he wants to see you about.”
So after a brief visit with Aunt Mercy and Faith the boys crossed
the Neck and took the ferry to town. Jack had changed into his best
clothes, and Hal and Bee, still in camp attire, pretended that he was
ashamed to be seen with them and walked behind him all the way
up the hill to the house. Mrs. Folsom proved to be a rather plump,
pleasant-faced, placid lady and Jack concluded that Mr. Folsom had
stretched it a little when he had told about the “conniption fits.” She
welcomed Jack warmly and rather embarrassed him with her praise
of his conduct. Mr. Folsom reached home late and dinner wasn’t
served until long after seven, by which time there were three very
hungry boys waiting. The dinner itself was more elaborate than any
Jack had ever partaken of and he had to watch Hal closely to see
which knife or fork to use. After dinner they went out to a wide
screened porch that was furnished just like a room, with electric
lights and deep chairs and tables and rugs and books, and Mrs.
Folsom made coffee in a funny copper contrivance and Mr. Folsom,
stretching himself in a long wicker chair, lighted a cigar and turned
to Jack.
“Herrick, Harry tells me you’re still running that water boat your
father had. Doing pretty well, are you?”
“Pretty well, sir.”
 “Could do better, though, if you had power, Harry says.”
“Yes, sir, it’s hard to get around. And when there’s a calm I have
to use the oars. There’s another boat selling water now—”
“So I hear. Ever think of putting an engine in yours?”
“Yes, sir, I’ve thought of it. I guess I’ll have to pretty soon.”
“I would. Now look here, Jack, here’s a proposition. Last year we
piped water down to the wharves so our boats could fill their tanks
right at their berths. But the town water isn’t fit to drink half the
time and our skipper tells us it gets rotten after it’s been in the butts
a week or two. I don’t drink it myself; we buy spring water; and I
don’t believe it’s fair to ask the men to. So much for that. Now I’ve
got a twenty horsepower Albany engine stored away that came out
of the Bessie and May a couple of years ago. It’s in good shape;
never was used much; and it isn’t doing any good where it is. Here’s
my offer, Jack. You take your boat up to Collins and Haggins’ railway
and I’ll have them put that engine in her and fix her up in good
shape. If she needs overhauling they might as well do it. I’ll have
them make a good all-around job of her; new timbers or planks
where they’re needed; new stick, too, if you want. And a couple of
coats of paint.”
“Why—why—” stammered Jack. “Thank you very much, Mr.
Folsom, but—”
Mr. Folsom raised a protesting hand. “Wait a minute; I’m not
through. Now I might do this for you and still be in your debt, my
boy, but I think you’re enough like your father to refuse to let me. So
I’m going to make a trade with you. That spring water of yours
doesn’t cost you anything and it’s mighty fine water. Now if I do
what I’ve offered to, Jack, will you serve Folsom and Company’s
boats with water for a year without charge?”
“But—but that wouldn’t be fair, sir! If you said three years—or four
—”
 “Hold on! We use a lot of water, my boy, nowadays. We have
sixteen vessels in our fleet. Don’t lose sight of that. It will keep you
pretty busy attending to us at times. No, a year is enough. After that
we’ll make a new dicker with you, and I guess I can trust you to give
us fair terms. Now, what do you say? Yes or no?”
“I say yes, of course, sir, and I—I can’t begin to tell you how much
I—how grateful—”
“I understand. And I’m grateful to you for what you did last night,
and what you did the other day when you rescued my boy and Bee
off the Head. And now there’s one more thing. Have you ever
thought of putting that water up in bottles and selling it that way?”
“No, sir.”
“Think it over. In this town I suppose more than half of us buy
spring water in bottles or carboys for drinking purposes. And I guess
most of us would as lief drink Crystal Spring water as any other kind.
You could sell it cheaper, too, for you wouldn’t have to ship it. Better
think that over, Jack.”
“Say, that’s a dandy scheme, dad!” exclaimed Hal. “How did you
happen to think of it?”
“That doesn’t sound flattering, Harry,” laughed Mr. Folsom. “As a
matter of fact, however, I hadn’t thought of it until I began to talk.
Then it occurred to me that if Jack here could deliver that water to
me I’d just as lief have it as the kind the grocer sells me. Jack, you
stop at the office some day and we’ll talk it over. You’ll need a little
money, probably, to get the thing started. Perhaps I can help you
there. Coffee ready, Lucy?”
Later a date was agreed on when the Crystal Spring was to be at
the marine railway and Mr. Folsom promised to see that the gasoline
engine was delivered in time. The boys were greatly excited about it
and Bee expressed regret that he could not remain in Greenhaven
and help Jack run the boat. “And between times,” he said, “I could
buzz around town in an auto truck and deliver bottles of spring
water, Jack. Honest, you’d better make me an offer. I’m a dandy
chauffeur—marine or—or terrestrial!”
“That’s a fine old word!” applauded Hal. “But if you can’t chauffeur
an auto truck any better than you can a launch—Say, Jack, I wonder
if the Corsair’s gone yet! Dad, who is this Bill Glass?”
“Who is Bill Glass?” Mr. Folsom set down his coffee cup.
“Why do you ask, Harry?”
“Why, because you seem to know him pretty well and we think
he’s a bit of a robber.” And Hal told of the disappearance of the
articles from the launch and of Jack’s dory. When he had concluded
Mr. Folsom shook his head.
“Harry, it’s a bad plan to judge folks by their looks. I’ve been
fooled too often myself not to have learned that. There’s your
mother. When I first saw her I thought she was a quiet, easy-going
little woman who wouldn’t say ‘boo!’ to a fly. Well, you see how she’s
turned out. Tyrannizes over me all the time; beats me; starves me to
death!”
Mrs. Folsom smiled placidly as the boys laughed.
“But you’re all wrong about Bill Glass, Harry. Bill never stole in his
life, and I doubt if he ever told a lie. Whoever took your things, it
wasn’t Honest Bill Glass. Ever hear how he came by that name? Bill
years ago sailed for Townsend; was mate and then captain. He had
the Ellen T. for a couple of years and then they gave him the
Massachusetts the first year she was built. Well, Bill had her off New
Foundland and he got caught inside the three-mile limit by a
revenue boat. Bill didn’t know he was inside the line until they
nabbed him and took him to port. They libelled the boat and the
case went to court. There wasn’t much of a case against him
because it was pretty doubtful just where the Massachusetts had
really been, owing to the fog. I guess if Bill had been willing to lie
about it they’d had to release him. But when they asked Bill he told
the truth. ‘Quarter of a mile inside the limit,’ said Bill. And they put
on the fine and Townsend had to pay it. But that lost Bill his job.
Townsend said he was a fool. Bill sailed for me as mate several years
and then built himself a cabin over on the hay meadows and went to
fishing. I guess he’d managed to save a little money, for I don’t think
he makes much fishing, although I’ve seen him come in with a catch
now and then. No, it wasn’t Honest Bill Glass who took that dory,
boys.”
“I didn’t think he did, anyway,” said Bee stoutly. “At least, not
lately.”
“Still, he certainly held us up good and hard for bringing us off
Hog Island,” said Hal.
“Oh,” laughed Mr. Folsom when he had heard about that, “Bill
probably saw you suspected him and thought he’d make you pay for
it. And besides I don’t see but what four dollars was a fair enough
price. When you first asked me about Bill I thought maybe you’d
heard something.”
“Heard what, sir?” asked Harry.
“Well,” hesitated Mr. Folsom, “maybe I oughtn’t to speak of it. You
boys will have to promise not to let it go any further. It’s pretty well
known, I suppose, but nobody ever mentions it.”
“We promise,” said Hal eagerly. “What is it, dad?”
Mr. Folsom laughed. “You’re as eager for gossip as a woman,
Harry. It’s just this; if you boys ever found any treasure on Nobody’s
Island it wouldn’t belong to you after all.”
“It wouldn’t? Why, sir?” asked Bee.
“Because it would belong of right to Bill Glass.”
“Bill Glass! Why—why, does he own the island, sir?”
“No, although maybe he’s got as good a title to it as anyone. But
that’s not the reason. The real reason is that anything Old Verny
buried belongs to his heirs, and Bill Glass is Old Verny’s son!”
 CHAPTER XXVI
The Letter In The Dory

“Yes,” continued Mr. Folsom when the expressions of surprise had

died out, “Bill’s real name is Jule Verny, or Verginaud. He was just a
young chap when they took the old man prisoner and shot his elder
brother, but he must have been a good swimmer, for they say he
swam all the way from the island to Fort Point. Anyhow, he got
away. And he stayed away for years, although there wasn’t any
reason why he should have, for he was just a boy and didn’t have
anything to do with his father’s misdeeds, I guess. He showed up in
Greenhaven years afterwards, when he was about thirty, I suppose,
and no one would ever have known who he was if old Mother
Chilten, who was about a hundred and never forgot a face, hadn’t
called him by his name on the wharf one day. And Bill wouldn’t lie
about it. But he always clung to the name of Glass, which I’ve
suspected was a nickname given him on account of his glass eye. So
now you know who Bill Glass is.”
“But I don’t see,” said Bee presently, “why Bill seemed so anxious
to have us dig for the treasure. He always insisted that it was there
somewhere and that we might find it. If it is his—”
“Perhaps that is the reason,” replied Mr. Folsom with a smile. “I
guess Bill has hunted pretty well for it and now he’s willing to have
someone else do the work for him. I guess if you had found it you’d
have discovered Bill not very far away, Bee! I suppose now you’ll
give up your treasure hunting. I didn’t tell you this before because I
thought there wasn’t much danger of your running across it and I
didn’t want to spoil your fun.”
 “I’m not ready to give up yet,” replied Bee stoutly. “After all, it isn’t
the money we want; it—it’s just the finding it! And unless the others
are tired of it I’d like to keep on awhile longer. Anyway, it’s lots of
fun on Nobody’s, Mr. Folsom, and I’m getting so I’d rather sleep in a
tent than indoors!”
“We’ll give you until Monday, Bee,” laughed Hal. “If you haven’t
found the treasure by that time we’ll quit. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
Bee agreed that it was, and shortly afterwards Jack, thanking Mr.
Folsom again for his kindness, took his departure for the Neck. He
didn’t go to sleep very soon after he was in bed, in spite of the fact
that the hour was late. He had far too much to think about and was
far too happy!
The next forenoon the Crystal Spring returned to the island, but
owing to the fact that there was almost no breeze—the day had
turned out hot and sultry—it was nearly dinner time when she
reached her anchorage. As the anchor splashed, Hal, who had laid
hold of the Corsair, which was to bear them ashore, glanced toward
the wharf. Instantly—
“Jack!” he cried. “Bee! The dory’s back!”
And sure enough, there was the Faith tugging gently at the
painter. Conjecture was rife and the mystery was not explained until
the Corsair was alongside the dory. In the bottom of the boat, lying
on an old net, were the things stolen from the launch!
“There’s the compass!” exclaimed Bee.
“And the fog-horn!” said Hal.
“And the lanterns!” added Jack.
In fact, everything had been returned except the boat-hook, and
why that was not there was explained a moment later when Hal
descried an envelope tucked amongst the articles. It was addressed
to “Mister H. Folsom, Esq.” and Hal broke the flap and drew forth a
sheet of blue-lined, gilt-edged paper.
 “It’s from Bill Glass,” he exclaimed. “Listen, fellows.” And, with
pauses where Bill’s pencil had run away from him or failed to work
smoothly, Hal read:
“Dear sir, here be your dory. I seen you wan’t going to look for it
so i done it for you. Them portigees had it like i knewed they had
and told you so. I had to pay them 2 dollars and ½ before they let
go of them but thats alright because you paid me 4 dollars for
bringing you off Hog Island and that was more than the job was
warth but i was cross because you thot i had stolen your belongings.
Wishing you luck i remane resp’t’y yours H. B. Glass.
“P. S. The boathook want there but i got one you can have cheap
the one i showed you.
“P. P. S. Regards to the others from H. B. G.”
“What’s the H. stand for?” asked Bee when they had read the note
the second time.
“Why, Honest,” replied Jack. “Honest Bill Glass. See?”
“Well, he’s certainly proud of that first name, isn’t he?” Bee
laughed.
“I guess he has a right to be,” returned Jack. “It isn’t such a bad
first name, Bee.”
“No, that’s true. Well, he is certainly a brick, fellows. And we’ll
have to look him up and thank him.”
“Maybe he will look us up,” replied Jack. “He probably left the dory
here on his way out. I wonder who the ‘Portigees’ are who took the
things. Probably some of those who live up by the track. It wouldn’t
be difficult for them to sneak down the river at night and not be
seen. Anyhow, I guess it doesn’t matter, now that we’ve got
everything back—everything except the boat-hook. And as Bill says
he has one we can have cheap.”
“I guess the least we can do is buy it,” laughed Hal. “Let’s go up
and see if things are all right in the tent.”
 Their way led them by the scene of their recent excavations and
suddenly Bee gave a cry of surprise and regret.
“Fellows, the tree’s blown down! Gee, but I’m sorry. I liked that
tree; it was such a plucky little old chap. And I suppose it was our
fault, too. We dug around the roots and weakened it.”
Bee walked across to where the apple tree lay on its side on the
sand, uprooted, its leaves already limp and withered. He viewed it
sorrowfully for a moment and then turned away to overtake the
others. As he did so his gaze encountered something which
protruded from the soil in the hole left by the uptorn tree. For a
moment he stared unbelievingly. Then, with a shout of triumph, he
jumped into the depression and when the others looked around he
was half out of sight and a perfect stream of sand was flying
through the air! When Hal and Jack, hurrying back, reached the
scene Bee already uncovered one end of an iron chest. “Quick!” he
panted. “Get the shovels! I’ve found the treasure!”
 CHAPTER XXVII
Treasure Trove!

Jack ran for the shovels and in a moment, breathless and excited,
the three boys were laboring mightily, getting in each other’s way
and taking a quarter of an hour at least to do what might have been
accomplished calmly by one worker in ten minutes! But at last the
chest lay exposed. It was over two feet in length by some eighteen
inches wide and of about the same depth. It appeared to be made
of sheet iron and was reinforced on the edges. There was a handle
at one end and traces of one at the other. It was covered with red
rust and as they lifted it from the hole it threatened to fall to pieces
in their hands. There were two simple hasp locks in front, one near
each end. The boys laid the chest on the ground and looked at each
other in triumph.
“I told you we’d find it!” exulted Bee, his eyes sparkling. “And we
have!”
“And it isn’t ours,” mourned Hal. “What do you suppose is in it? It
feels heavy enough!”
“I mean to find out,” responded Bee. “Let’s take it up to the tent,
fellows.”
“What’s the use?” asked Jack. “It isn’t ours. It belongs to Bill Glass
and we might as well dump it into the launch and take it to him.”
“That’s all right,” replied Bee doggedly, “but when I find hidden
treasure I have a look at it, no matter whose it is! And I mean to
open that chest and see what’s inside! It’s Bill Glass’s, but we found
it and we ought at least to have a look at it.”
 Jack perhaps felt that Bee’s reasoning was faulty, but his own
curiosity was too strong to allow of much conviction in his tones
when he replied, “Well, we haven’t any business to open it, Bee, but
—”
“Never mind the ‘buts’,” said Bee. “Where’s that pick? We’ll open it
right here and have a look. Then we’ll put it in the launch and hand
it over to Bill. Do you suppose there are jewels there, Jack? There
must be gold, because it’s so heavy!”
The point of the pick solved the locks in a twinkling. Hal and Jack
bent forward and Bee, after a moment of breathless hesitation,
raised the lid.
The first thing that met their eyes was a layer or covering of
yellow-brown material that turned out to be canvas, stained and
rotted. It fell to pieces as Bee tried to lift it aside, revealing a strange
hodge-podge of silver and silver-plate; oldfashioned butter-dishes,
castors, spoon-holders, sugar-bowls, knives, forks, spoons!
“What do you think of that!” gasped Hal.
Bee delved into the mass, scattering the things to the ground. A
watch-case minus the works—it might have been gold or only gold-
plate—rewarded his search, as did a gold brooch set with coral.
Then a small leather pouch, white with mold, secured with a leather
thong that broke when Bee strove to loosen it, tumbled out of a
sugar-bowl. Bee peered into the pouch and then inverted it. A
number of coins fell out.
“That’s more like it!” Bee muttered.
They were all of silver, dollars and fifty-cent pieces, and when they
were counted summed up to exactly twenty dollars. Bee tossed
them back into the pouch disappointedly and proceeded to empty
the chest. A ship’s clock was near the bottom, its brass green with
verdigris, its dial chipped and cracked, its old hands pointing to
fourteen minutes after seven.
 “Now,” exclaimed Jack, “I’ll bet I know where Bill Glass got all
those things he has on his walls! He dug them up here on the
island!”
“That’s just about it,” agreed Hal. “Whenever Old Verny found a
chest on a boat he just loaded it with this sort of truck and sunk it in
the ground somewhere and I suppose Bill has been digging them up
for years! It’s a bit of a sell on us, isn’t it?”
“No,” answered Bee, who, having reached the bottom of the chest
without discovering anything more valuable than the gold knob from
a cane, was now returning the articles. “We set out to look for a
treasure chest and we found it. I’m satisfied. Of course, it would
have been more interesting to have found diamonds and gold, but
we did what we set out to do. And Bill’s richer by twenty dollars—to
say nothing of more spoons and sugar bowls and such things than
he will ever be able to use!”
“He has probably been doing that for years,” mused Jack. “Maybe
that’s the way he’s lived. Whenever he got hard-up he took a shovel,
dug up a treasure chest and sold the contents! If that watch-case
and the cane head and the other thing are really gold Bill ought to
make about—about fifty or sixty dollars out of this lot. And that isn’t
so bad!”
“It must have kept Old Verny pretty busy burying things here,”
said Bee. “I wonder—” He paused and his eyes narrowed
thoughtfully—“I wonder, fellows, if this is the treasure chest, the one
he buried when the officers came after him. I don’t believe it is! I
believe that chest is still here!”
Hal groaned. “For the love of mud, Bee, don’t tell me you’re going
to start all over again!”
Bee shook his head with a smile. “Not this summer, anyway, old
Hal. But—next year—perhaps! It’s pretty good sport, this treasure
hunting, but I’ve had enough for now and I’m ready to return to
town and read about it in stories for awhile. Come on; let’s get this
down to the launch and take it to Bill.”
 When, twenty minutes later, they laid their find in front of the half-
open door of Bill Glass’s cabin and knocked, there was no response.
Jack pushed the door wide and they looked in. The cabin was empty
save for Benjamin Franklin. Benjamin sat amidst the dinner dishes,
blinking benignly in the sunlight. On the walls the fourteen clocks
tick-ticked noisily and the stuffed parrot studied them with beady
eyes. They laid the chest on a chair and Bee found a piece of paper
and wrote on it: “For Honest Bill Glass, with best wishes from The
Treasure Hunters Company, Ltd.” This he placed on the old chest
and they started out. Then—
“Ding, dong!” said a ship’s clock with a tenor voice.
“Ting, tang,” piped a clock with a soprano voice.
And then came all the others in a weird jumble of sound, and the
boys hurried out laughing, Bee with his hands over his ears.
“Two bells,” exclaimed Hal. “Why, it’s long after dinner time! Come
on, fellows; something calls me!”
So they tumbled back into the Corsair and returned to the island
for their last dinner there. By three o’clock everything was bundled
aboard the sloop or the launch and they said good-bye to Nobody’s
Island.
“We had a mighty good time there,” reflected Bee. “It wasn’t what
you’d call a fancy treasure island, but it was a good plain treasure
island. Something sort of tells me I’ll be back there some day,
fellows.”
“If you are I’ll see that you don’t have a shovel with you!”
muttered Hal as he emptied the last drop of oil in the oil-can where
it would do the least possible good. Then the breeze caught the
patched, gray mainsail of the Crystal Spring and the three boats
rounded The Clinker and Nobody’s Island was lost to sight.
 Three weeks later, almost to an hour, the boys again sat in the
cockpit of the Crystal Spring. But what a different Crystal Spring it
was! Amidship, an engine, gay in black enamel and brass, hummed
and purred and clicked. The mast had been freshly scraped and
varnished, the deck looked like new, the hull glistened like a raven’s
wing and an immaculate white mainsail lay furled along the boom
under a creamy canvas cover. No, you’d hardly have recognized the
old sloop. There was even a new pump, and instead of having to
operate it by hand Jack need merely uncouple the propeller shaft by
the move of a lever, start the engine and the pump would throw
such a stream as would fill a tank in almost no time!
Bee was returning home on the morrow and this meeting was in
the nature of a farewell gathering, although Jack was to accompany
the boys back to dinner later. The Crystal Spring, lazing along at
three or four miles an hour, was passing the entrance of the canal at
the end of the harbor when Jack suddenly moved the helm over
and, reaching forward, pulled the throttle wider.
“What is it?” asked Hal.
Jack pointed to where, a mile away, the snub-nosed lighthouse
tender was just moving into sight around the end of the breakwater.
“Hurrah!” cried Bee. “Hit her up, Jack!”
The Crystal Spring dug her nose and pushed the water aside while
the engine hummed louder and faster. No one could liken the sloop’s
progress to the flight of an arrow, but what she lacked in grace she
made up for in power, and by the time she was half-way to Gull
Island she was slapping off a good seven miles! And just as they
reached the inner end of the island a buff cat-rigged boat under
power hurried forth from the basin.
“There she is!” whispered Hal. “Can you beat her, Jack?”
“Watch me,” answered Jack with a grim smile.
The Morning Star had something of a start and her engine was
buzzing and her exhaust popping for all they were worth. But foot by
foot the old Crystal Spring gained as they swept by the wharves.
Along the string-pieces idlers, sunning themselves, saw the race and
shouted them on. The government boat was slowing down to drop
her anchor now.
“Open her up just a tiny bit more, Hal,” directed Jack softly. Hal
touched the throttle lever gently and the engine purred more quickly.
Then the bow of the sloop was even with the stern of her rival and
the Lampron brothers, gazing across, scowled angrily. Faster now
the Crystal Spring swept through the water. The Morning Star no
longer led; the sloop was even with her. And now the Crystal Spring
was actually drawing away; there was clear water between them!
A little farther the Morning Star held on, then the helm went over
and the rival water boat swung off her course, accepting defeat. In
the bow, at the wheel, Tony Lampron gazed after the Crystal Spring
and shook his fist. Jack, seeing, smiled and seized a small
megaphone from its rack. As the Morning Star headed back toward
the basin Jack put the megaphone to his mouth.
“Where you been some time, Mister?” he shouted.

THE END.

Transcriber’s Notes:
A List of Illustrations has been provided for the convenience of the reader.
Obvious printer's, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
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