The Rushton Boys at Treasure Cove: or, The Missing Chest of Gold

“Well, you see, there wasn’t any boat strong enough for him,” explained Lester. “He’d sit up in the bow and start to row, and he’d give such tremendous strokes that the front part of the boat would tear away from the stern and go on without it. Of course, the people who owned the boats found this rather expensive, so after a while this man couldn’t get a steady job in the fishing trade at all. He did get another position, though, and as far as I know is working at it yet.”

“It must be a job requiring some strength,” remarked Teddy. “What was it?”

“Carrying barrels of holes from a swiss cheese factory to be made into crullers,” chuckled Lester. “I guess that will hold you for a while. If you like that one, I’ll tell you some more.”

“That’s quite enough from you,” said Teddy, with great dignity. “You’re apt to bring a judgment on us with such stuff as that. One of these big waves may come slap into the boat and send us all to Davy Jones’ locker, if you’re not careful.”

CHAPTER XXIV

RIDING THE SURF

The words were spoken in jest, but they bade fair before long to turn to earnest.

Although the wind had died down, the waves were still running high from the effects of the storm. Lester, however, handled the oars like the skilled waterman he was, and Fred was not far behind him, so that the occupants of the boat felt that they could not be in safer hands. As they got farther out from under the lee of the lighthouse rocks, however, they felt the force of the waves more and more, and Lester had to draw on all his knowledge to keep the boat headed before the big rollers. As one wave followed another, it would shoot the boat ahead as though propelled by some invisible motor, and while this was very exhilarating, it also had a strong element of danger. As long as they went before the waves they were safe enough, but Lester knew that if they broached to, broadside to the waves, they would be swamped in the twinkling of an eye. The water was pretty shoal where they were, and while not actually surf was still near enough like it to keep them all tense and expectant.

As the boys approached the shore, they could see that there was a big surf breaking on the sands. Lester scanned it closely.

“I think we can get through all right, fellows,” he said, “but if we should be swamped going in, it won’t mean anything more than a good wetting. When I say the word, Fred, we want to act fast and together. If we can get a wave just right, we’ll shoot in like an arrow.”

“All right, say when, and I’ll pull my arms out,” promised Fred, taking a firm grip on the oars. “Let her go.”

“Look out you don’t pull the boat apart,” admonished Teddy. “Remember, I’m in the stern, and I don’t want to be left behind.”

His more serious brother rebuked Teddy’s frivolity with a glance, and then turned his eyes toward the line of thundering surf they were rapidly approaching. Lester was absorbed in the problem before him, glancing now at the line of breakers and then at the big waves chasing the boat, each one looking as though it must surely overwhelm it. At last, when they were not more than a hundred feet from the beach, Lester bent to the oars with all his strength, calling:

“Now, Fred, pull! Pull for all you’re worth!”

An involuntary exclamation broke from Bill as he glanced astern. Close behind was a gigantic roller, its foaming crest already starting to bend over. As he gazed, fascinated, the crest broke and rushed at the little boat with a seething hiss. Up, up went the stern and the bow dug deep into the water.

“Pull, pull!” yelled Lester.

His oars and Fred’s bent beneath the force of their straining backs. For a moment it seemed as though the wave must surely break into the boat and swamp it. But suddenly they felt the boat leap forward, as though some giant of the deep had seized it and thrown it from him. With the white water boiling under the stern the boat raced on, caught in the grip of the breaker and traveling inshore with the same speed at which the wave itself moved. The bow cut through the water, curling up a bow wave on each side that at times came into the boat.

Suddenly the little craft started to turn to starboard.

“Pull on the starboard side,” shouted Lester, suiting the action to the word.

Fred promptly obeyed, and after a few straining strokes, the boat returned to a straight path before the roller and the next moment had rushed up on the sand, propelled by the last force of the breaker which went seething and hissing up the beach.

“Out! Get out! Quick!” shouted Fred. “Let’s lift the boat up higher before the next wave comes. Lively’s the word!”

The boys leaped out and rapidly dragged the boat up past the high water mark, just as another wave, even larger than the one that had carried them in, came sweeping over the place where they had landed.

They were a little white and shaken at the danger they had passed through, but at the same time were wildly exhilarated by the excitement of it.

“Whew!” exclaimed Teddy. “It seemed to me that we were traveling faster than the Twentieth Century Limited just then. Why, we were fairly flying. While we were going through I was scared to death, but now I think I’d like to go out and try it again.”

“Not while I’m still in my right mind,” protested Lester. “Surf riding is good sport sometimes, but not when there’s the kind of sea running that there is to-day. It’s possible to have too much of a good thing, you know.”

“Oh, I suppose so,” said the incorrigible Teddy. “But you fellows didn’t have anything to worry about, anyway. I was in the stern, and if a wave had come aboard, I’d have been the one to get wet first.”

“Yes, by about one-tenth of a second,” laughed Bill. “However, all’s well that ends well. I think we all owe a vote of thanks to Teddy for taking us through the way he did. Nobody could have sat there and watched others work better than Teddy did. I think he deserves all sorts of credit.”

“Well, you see, I was neutral,” explained Teddy. “If I didn’t help you, you’ll have to admit that I didn’t help the wave, either.”

“Ted wins,” declared Lester. “Anybody who wants to prove anything against him has got to get up early.”

“If he’s ever accused of a crime, he’ll be able to argue his way out without half trying,” affirmed Ross.

“He could probably get off by giving the judge and jury a bad attack of brain fever,” sniffed Fred. “But what do you say; shall we bail the boat out? We shipped quite a good deal of water.”

“Not so much, considering what we came through,” replied Lester. “Let’s turn the boat over and save the trouble of bailing.”

They turned it over on one side and soon had all the water drained out. Then they left it to dry out in the sun until they should be ready to return.

“Get a wiggle on now,” enjoined Lester. “We’ve got a lot to do and we’d better get going at once.”

The boys started off at a brisk pace and soon found themselves in the part of the village where the stores were located. They made the rounds, Lester making the purchases and having them wrapped up for him and his friends to call for and carry back later on. They met several of Lester’s friends and the time passed so quickly that they were surprised when they found that it was past noon.

“Time to eat!” exclaimed Teddy. “Think of me passing up lunch time like that! I must be sick or something.”

“It is rather a bad sign,” admitted his brother. “Still I guess you’re not going to die just yet. Only the good die young, and that lets you out. But what do you say to stopping in somewhere and getting a bite, Lester? Now that it’s brought to my attention, I find that I’m almost as hungry as Ted usually is. And I can’t put it much stronger than that.”

“Well,” replied Lester, “I was thinking that it might be fun to buy something here and eat it on the way back. We can get some sandwiches and other things and have a regular picnic after we get out of town.”

“Great!” pronounced Bill.

“And the sooner the better,” added Ross.

The lads stopped at the nearest store that promised to supply their needs. As they gazed in the window, trying to make up their minds what to buy, Teddy exclaimed:

“What a nuisance it is to choose! You always have to leave behind more than you take away. If I had plenty of money, I’d buy out the whole store. Wait till we unearth that fortune of Ross’ and then–”

“Sh-h, keep quiet,” warned Fred in a low tone. “You don’t want to tell the whole town all you know, do you?”

“That was a slip of the tongue for fair,” confessed Teddy ruefully, “but I won’t do it again, honest. Besides, nobody could have heard me.”

CHAPTER XXV

ANDY SHANKS, EAVESDROPPER

Suddenly the boys heard two voices raised in what seemed to be an altercation of some kind. The sound appeared to come from behind a board fence a few feet away.

One of the speakers was evidently threatening, while the other was begging off from something that had been demanded of him.

“I tell you, I can’t,” the latter was saying. “I’ve already given you every cent of my allowance and I’ve borrowed from every friend I have in this town. You can’t get blood out of a stone. If gold dollars were selling for fifty cents, I couldn’t buy one.”

“I tell you, you must,” the other said fiercely. “I know well enough you can pawn something. You can get a few plunks on that ring and scarf-pin of yours. I’ve long ago put everything I had in hock. Come now, Sid,” and the voice became more wheedling in tone, “you know well enough this state of things won’t last long. The old man will take me back again and I’ll be rolling in money. Then I can pay back all you’ve let me have.”

Fred and Teddy looked at each other with a conviction that flashed on both of them at the same moment.

“Where have I heard those dulcet tones before?” murmured Fred. “Either I’m going crazy or that’s Andy Shanks.”

“And the other is Sid Wilton,” replied Teddy. “Come to think of it, I heard he lived down this way somewhere. I wonder what all this gab is about.”

“It seems to me that Andy’s father has thrown him out to face life on his own hook,” conjectured Fred.

“And he doesn’t seem to be making a success of it,” judged Bill.

Just then the two debaters emerged from behind the fence and came face to face with their former schoolmates.

The former bully of Rally Hall and his crony started back, and for a moment were so nonplussed that they could do nothing but stare.

“How are you, Sid?” said Fred, breaking a silence that was beginning to be awkward.

Sid made a stammering reply.

Andy had flushed angrily at the sight of the boys and seemed about to indulge in his usual bluster, but a thought appeared to come to him suddenly that made him change his mind.

“How are you, fellows?” he asked, in a way that was meant to be ingratiating, and holding out his hand.

The movement was so wholly unexpected that for an instant the boys hardly knew what to do. They all disliked him heartily, and the Rushton boys in particular had been bitterly wronged by him during their first year at Rally Hall. Still, it would have seemed ungracious to reject the proffered hand, so they took it under protest, mentally resolved to get away from him as soon as possible.

It was a different Andy from the one to whom they had been accustomed. He had formerly been expensively dressed, and had borne himself with the arrogance of the snob and the brutality of the bully. Now he was beginning to look shabby and his eyes had a furtive look very different from the insolent assurance that the boys remembered.

They exchanged a few commonplace remarks, and then, as Andy made no move toward following Sid, who had excused himself and gone on, Bill finally gave him a gentle hint.

“Well, so long, Andy,” he said. “We’ll have to be going.”

Then the motive for Andy’s sudden change of front became apparent.

“Wait just a minute,” he said rather sheepishly. “Will you fellows do me a favor and lend me a five spot? I’m stony broke–not a dime to bless myself with. You know the governor has gone back on me. Says he won’t give me a red cent, and that I’ll have to learn to hoe my own row. I’m up against it for fair, and I know you fellows won’t mind lending me a little something. I’ll pay it back as soon as the old man comes across, which he’s bound to do sooner or later. What do you say?”

Fred, who remembered how the bully had tried to put on him the theft of some examination papers at Rally Hall, hesitated, but Teddy, who noticed how shabby and downcast Andy looked, intervened.

“I guess we might fix it up,” he ventured to say. “Just let me speak to the others for a minute.”

They had a short conference, as a result of which Teddy collected and handed over the five dollars that Andy desired.

Andy’s thanks were profuse, but after having tucked the money safely away in his pocket, something of his old surly manner returned. He took leave of his benefactors with scant ceremony, but the boys were so glad to get rid of him that they hardly noticed this.

“After all,” remarked Bill, as they watched Andy go down the street, “five dollars isn’t so much to pay for getting free from that bird. I’d be willing to lose a lot more than that if I could be sure of never seeing him again.”

The boys made their purchases and took their way to the place that Lester had in mind to eat their lunch. They found themselves on a high sand dune, overgrown with coarse grass. It afforded an excellent view of the sea and also furnished a comfortable place to lean against.

“This is great!” exclaimed Ross. “Let’s get out that grub and pitch in. I could eat a barrel full of brass tacks and never know I had eaten anything.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know anything very long,” laughed Lester, as he proceeded to lay out the provisions.

The eatables vanished with surprising speed, and after the first sharp edge of their hunger had worn off, the conversation turned, as it usually did these days, to their quest for the missing treasure.

A brisk breeze was blowing in from the ocean and the brittle sand grass kept up a constant rustling. This sound served admirably to cover the approach of a stealthy figure that had followed the boys at a distance ever since they had left Bartanet. This figure crept closer and closer to the sand dune, until only a projecting hump concealed it from the five boys on the seaward side.

As it attained this position of vantage, Teddy was addressing a remark to Ross.

“Haven’t you lost a bit of your confidence yet, Ross?” he queried.

“Not a particle,” affirmed Ross stoutly. “We’ll find that treasure, sooner or later, if it ever was actually hidden in the neighborhood of Bartanet Shoals.”

“You bet we will!” declared Fred, “even if we have to import a steam shovel to dig up the whole territory.”

“I hope it will be soon,” interposed Bill. “It’ll be us for Rally Hall, you know, before long, and then what chance will we have?”

“Keep a stiff upper lip,” counseled Lester. “We’ve just begun to fight.”

During the conversation the eavesdropper had lain quietly and listened with the closest attention. Now he edged away cautiously, and when he had reached a sufficient distance rose to his feet and hurried back in the direction of Bartanet.

The boys light-heartedly got into their boat and rowed back to the lighthouse without the slightest suspicion that almost all they had said had been overheard by Andy Shanks.

That rascal hastened back to town, his brain awhirl with dreams of sudden riches. He had heard enough to know that there was treasure buried in or around Bartanet, and he also knew that the boys whom he held in hatred were in search of it. What joy to steal the riches from them and thus gain the twofold advantage of thwarting them and at the same time putting himself in a position to indulge those vices in which he delighted!

Before Andy had gone far, he met one of the village youths whose acquaintance he had recently made. Unfortunately for Andy, this young fellow, who was named Morton, had a strong liking for practical jokes, and after Andy, with his usual boastfulness, had thrown out sly hints about knowing how to “pick up all the money that he wanted,” Morton scented a chance to make a victim.

As Andy was very vague regarding the sources from which he expected to get his wealth, Morton did not hesitate to impart to Andy the slighting opinion that he was “talking through his hat.”

“Not much I’m not,” retorted Andy, stung by the imputation. “I tell you I know there’s oodles of money buried somewhere around here and what’s more, if you’ll help me to find it, I’ll let you in for a share of it.”

His acquaintance, seeing that Andy was in earnest, quickly formed a plan to have some fun at the other’s expense.

“Well, seeing you’re so certain of it, I will help you, then!” he exclaimed. “Shake hands on the bargain.”

CHAPTER XXVI

BADLY FOOLED

Morton gravely extended his hand and Andy shook it.

“Let’s see, now,” said the town youth, pretending to be racking his memory, “whereabouts could that money be hid? It’s probably in some old shack or cave somewhere. Say!” he shouted as though struck by an idea, “I’ll wager I know the identical place where it’s stowed away. Come to think of it, I’m sure I do.”

“Where? Where?” questioned Andy eagerly.

“Well, I know you’re on the square and won’t give me the double cross,” replied Morton, “so I don’t mind telling you what I know.

“There was an old fellow partly tipsy one winter night, who told me a long yarn about knowing where there was a mint of money hidden away. I didn’t pay any attention to him then, because I thought he was just raving, the way those people often do. But now I come to think of it, I remember his speaking of an old hut that was almost buried in a sand dune close to the water. Let’s see now, where is there an old shack that answers to that description?”

Morton pretended to meditate deeply, while Andy waited breathlessly for him to continue.

“I have it!” exclaimed Morton abruptly. “It’s the place old Totten used to have on the beach just north of Bartanet. He kept very close to himself, but he always seemed to have slathers of money. He died two or three years ago, and since then the sand has nearly rolled over his shack. I’ll venture to say that if we dug there we’d find money enough to make us both rich for the rest of our lives.”

“By jinks! but I believe you’re right,” blurted out Andy with an avaricious glitter in his shifty eyes. “Let’s go there to-night and see if we can find it.”

“Oh, we won’t be able to go to-night,” protested Morton. “We’ll have to get picks and shovels, and we’ll have to do it so quietly that nobody will catch on. And I can’t do it to-morrow night, either,” he continued, as though just recalling something. “I’ve got an engagement that I can’t break. But I’ll make it the night after that, if you’re willing.”

“Sure!” assented Andy. “That suits me fine.”

But there was a reluctance to look into Morton’s eyes as Andy spoke, that convinced the joker that his plans would work out as he expected. He knew Andy Shanks pretty well, and he was sure that Andy would not wait till the appointed time to hunt for the treasure. He guessed that Andy would endeavor to cheat him out of his share of the fictitious treasure by getting in before the time agreed upon. And he made no mistake in reckoning on the mean nature of Andy Shanks.

The two arranged the details of the expedition, such as securing shovels and picks and candles. Then they parted, after Morton had exacted an oath of secrecy from the other.

The latter was no sooner left to himself, however, than he began revolving in his mind plans to outwit the friend, who, he thought, had confided in him so completely.

“It’s a lucky thing for me,” thought Andy, “that he can’t be there to-morrow night. I’ll get a pick and shovel somewhere and beat him to it. If he’s such a fool as to tell all he knows, he deserves to lose his share.”

In the meantime, Morton was hugging himself in anticipation. He confided the matter to a few of his friends, who were delighted at the chance of playing a joke on Shanks, who was anything but popular in the town. All volunteered to help Morton, and having secured an old trunk, they armed themselves with spades and sallied forth in the direction of Totten’s old shack.

After shoveling the sand away from before the door, they entered and started to “plant the treasure,” as one of them expressed it. They dug a hole four feet deep and wide enough to contain the trunk. Then they filled the trunk with sand and lowered it into the excavation. This done, they filled the hole up again, replaced the rotting boards that formed the floor and surveyed the completed job with satisfaction.

“I guess that will keep him busy for a while,” remarked Morton, “especially as he won’t know where to look and will have to dig the whole place up, more or less. It’s going to be more fun than a circus.”

“But we want to see him while he’s at it,” objected one of his followers. “How are we going to manage it?”

“That’s so,” agreed Morton. “Guess we’ll have to clear the sand away from the little window there.”

The lads set to work with a will and soon had enough of the sand shoveled away to permit a clear view of the interior of the shack. This accomplished, they closed the door and heaped sand against it, leaving everything as they had found it.

“Well,” declared Morton, “that was considerable work, but it will be worth it. We’ll hustle back to town now and tell the other fellows that everything’s all right. Then we’ll have nothing to do but wait for the fun. I’m as sure as I am that I’m alive that that sneak will try to circumvent me. I could see it in his eye.”

Andy spent a restless night, his mind busied with plans to get the best of Morton. He rose early the next morning and roamed restlessly about town. The great problem confronting him was how to get the pick and shovel without Morton’s getting wind of it. He finally concluded that it would be taking too much of a risk to buy the implements in the village, so he made a trip to a town five miles distant and got the necessary tools.

Night came at last, and the sneak sallied forth and set out for the old cabin, the location of which Morton had been careful to give to him. Throwing down his tools, Andy carefully reconnoitred the surroundings. The jokers had done their work so carefully that he saw nothing amiss, and after satisfying himself that the coast was clear, he started digging in the sand in front of the door.

It did not take him long to gain an entrance, and after getting in he lit two of his candles and took a careful survey of the surroundings. There was nothing in sight to give him a clue. The sole furniture consisted of an old table and a couple of rickety chairs.

Somewhat at a loss where to begin, Andy finally started sounding the rough planking of the floor. When he came to the place where the planks had been ripped up the preceding evening, he saw that they were loose and resolved to take a chance there. He removed the boards, took off his coat and began to dig in earnest.

He made rapid progress at first, but soon his muscles, flabby and unused to such strenuous exercise, began to protest and he was forced to take a breathing spell.

Had he chanced to glance at the little window, his labors might have come to a premature conclusion. Grouped outside were Morton and his friends, almost bursting with smothered laughter. The sight of Andy, whose antipathy to work was well known, sweating away over the hardest kind of labor, amused them immensely.

Wholly unconscious of the amusement he was providing, Andy resumed his task and worked with such good will that it was not long before his spade struck on the edge of the buried trunk. He uttered a shout of delight and scattered the remaining sand in every direction. Before long he had uncovered the top of the trunk. This he tried to lift out of the hole. Finding it too heavy for this, however, and not able to restrain his impatience to see what it contained, he seized the pickax and smashed in the top.

His chagrin may be imagined when instead of the treasure he expected he found that the trunk was filled with sand. On top of this was a sheet of paper which Morton had placed there the previous evening. It contained one word done in heavy capitals: