The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Buried Treasure This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: My Buried Treasure Author: Richard Harding Davis Release date: May 1, 1999 [eBook #1761] Most recently updated: March 19, 2023 Language: English Credits: Aaron Cannon and David Widger *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BURIED TREASURE *** MY BURIED TREASURE by Richard Harding Davis This is a true story of a search for buried treasure. The only part that is not true is the name of the man with whom I searched for the treasure. Unless I keep his name out of it he will not let me write the story, and, as it was his expedition and as my share of the treasure is only what I can make by writing the story, I must write as he dictates. I think the story should be told, because our experience was unique, and might be of benefit to others. And, besides, I need the money. There is, however, no agreement preventing me from describing him as I think he is, or reporting, as accurately as I can, what he said and did as he said and did it. For purposes of identification I shall call him Edgar Powell. The last name has no significance; but the first name is not chosen at random. The leader of our expedition, the head and brains of it, was and is the sort of man one would address as Edgar. No one would think of calling him “Ed,” or “Eddie,” any more than he would consider slapping him on the back. We were together at college; but, as six hundred other boys were there at the same time, that gives no clew to his identity. Since those days, until he came to see me about the treasure, we had not met. All I knew of him was that he had succeeded his father in manufacturing unshrinkable flannels. Of course, the reader understands that is not the article of commerce he manufactures; but it is near enough, and it suggests the line of business to which he gives his life’s blood. It is not similar to my own line of work, and in consequence, when he wrote me, on the unshrinkable flannels official writing-paper, that he wished to see me in reference to a matter of business of “mutual benefit,” I was considerably puzzled. A few days later, at nine in the morning, an hour of his own choosing, he came to my rooms in New York City. Except that he had grown a beard, he was as I remembered him, thin and tall, but with no chest, and stooping shoulders. He wore eye-glasses, and as of old through these he regarded you disapprovingly and warily as though he suspected you might try to borrow money, or even joke with him. As with Edgar I had never felt any temptation to do either, this was irritating. But from force of former habit we greeted each other by our first names, and he suspiciously accepted a cigar. Then, after fixing me both with his eyes and with his eye-glasses and swearing me to secrecy, he began abruptly. “Our mills,” he said, “are in New Bedford; and I own several small cottages there and in Fairhaven. I rent them out at a moderate rate. The other day one of my tenants, a Portuguese sailor, was taken suddenly ill and sent for me. He had made many voyages in and out of Bedford to the South Seas, whaling, and he told me on his last voyage he had touched at his former home at Teneriffe. There his grandfather had given him a document that had been left him by _his_ father. His grandfather said it contained an important secret, but one that was of value only in America, and that when he returned to that continent he must be very careful to whom he showed it. He told me it was written in a kind of English he could not understand, and that he had been afraid to let any one see it. He wanted me to accept the document in payment of the rent he owed me, with the understanding that I was not to look at it, and that if he got well I was to give it back. If he pulled through, he was to pay me in some other way; but if he died I was to keep the document. About a month ago he died, and I examined the paper. It purports to tell where there is buried a pirate’s treasure. And,” added Edgar, gazing at me severely and as though he challenged me to contradict him, “I intend to dig for it!” Had he told me he contemplated crossing the Rocky Mountains in a Baby Wright, or leading a cotillon, I could not have been more astonished. I am afraid I laughed aloud. “You!” I exclaimed. “Search for buried treasure?” My tone visibly annoyed him. Even the eye-glasses radiated disapproval. “I see nothing amusing in the idea,” Edgar protested coldly. “It is a plain business proposition. I find the outlay will be small, and if I am successful the returns should be large; at a rough estimate about one million dollars.” Even to-day, no true American, at the thought of one million dollars, can remain covered. His letter to me had said, “for our mutual benefit.” I became respectful and polite, I might even say abject. After all, the ties that bind us in those dear old college days are not lightly to be disregarded. “If I can be of any service to you, Edgar, old man,” I assured him heartily, “if I can help you find it, you know I shall be only too happy.” With regret I observed that my generous offer did not seem to deeply move him. “I came to you in this matter,” he continued stiffly, “because you seemed to be the sort of person who would be interested in a search for buried treasure.” “I am,” I exclaimed. “Always have been.” “Have you,” he demanded searchingly, “any practical experience?” I tried to appear at ease; but I knew then just how the man who applies to look after your furnace feels, when you ask him if he can also run a sixty horse-power dynamo. “I have never actually _found_ any buried treasure,” I admitted; “but I know where lots of it is, and I know just how to go after it.” I endeavored to dazzle him with expert knowledge. “Of course,” I went on airily, “I am familiar with all the expeditions that have tried for the one on Cocos Island, and I know all about the Peruvian treasure on Trinidad, and the lost treasures of Jalisco near Guadalajara, and the sunken galleon on the Grand Cayman, and when I was on the Isle of Pines I had several very tempting offers to search there. And the late Captain Boynton invited me——” “But,” interrupted Edgar in a tone that would tolerate no trifling, “you yourself have never financed or organized an expedition with the object in view of——” “Oh, that part’s easy!” I assured him. “The fitting-out part you can safely leave to me.” I assumed a confidence that I hoped he might believe was real. “There’s always a tramp steamer in the Erie Basin,” I said, “that one can charter for any kind of adventure, and I have the addresses of enough soldiers of fortune, filibusters, and professional revolutionists to man a battle-ship, all fine fellows in a tight corner. And I’ll promise you they’ll follow us to hell, and back——” “That!” exclaimed Edgar, “is exactly what I feared!” “I beg your pardon!” I exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I _don’t_ want,” said Edgar sternly. “I don’t _intend_ to get into any tight corners. I don’t _want_ to go to hell!” I saw that in my enthusiasm I had perhaps alarmed him. I continued more temperately. “Any expedition after treasure,” I pointed out, “is never without risk. You must have discipline, and you must have picked men. Suppose there’s a mutiny? Suppose they try to rob us of the treasure on our way home? We must have men we can rely on, and men who know how to pump a Winchester. I can get you both. And Bannerman will furnish me with anything from a pair of leggins to a quick firing gun, and on Clark Street they’ll quote me a special rate on ship stores, hydraulic pumps, divers’ helmets——” Edgar’s eye-glasses became frosted with cold, condemnatory scorn. He shook his head disgustedly. “I was afraid of this!” he murmured. I endeavored to reassure him. “A little danger,” I laughed, “only adds to the fun.” “I want you to understand,” exclaimed Edgar indignantly, “there isn’t going to be any danger. There isn’t going to be any fun. This is a plain business proposition. I asked you those questions just to test you. And you approached the matter exactly as I feared you would. I was prepared for it. In fact,” he explained shamefacedly, “I’ve read several of your little stories, and I find they run to adventure and blood and thunder; they are not of the analytical school of fiction. Judging from them,” he added accusingly, “you have a tendency to the romantic.” He spoke reluctantly as though saying I had a tendency to epileptic fits or the morphine habit. “I am afraid,” I was forced to admit, “that to me pirates and buried treasure always suggest adventure. And your criticism of my writings is well observed. Others have discovered the same fatal weakness. We cannot all,” I pointed out, “manufacture unshrinkable flannels.” At this compliment to his more fortunate condition, Edgar seemed to soften. “I grant you,” he said, “that the subject has almost invariably been approached from the point of view you take. And what,” he demanded triumphantly, “has been the result? Failure, or at least, before success was attained, a most unnecessary and regrettable loss of blood and life. Now, on my expedition, I do not intend that any blood shall be shed, or that anybody shall lose his life. I have not entered into this matter hastily. I have taken out information, and mean to benefit by other people’s mistakes. When I decided to go on with this,” he explained, “I read all the books that bear on searches for buried treasure, and I found that in each case the same mistakes were made, and that then, in order to remedy the mistakes, it was invariably necessary to kill somebody. Now, by not making those mistakes, it will not be necessary for me to kill any one, and nobody is going to have a chance to kill me. “You propose that we fit out a schooner and sign on a crew. What will happen? A man with a sabre cut across his forehead, or with a black patch over one eye, will inevitably be one of that crew. And, as soon as we sail, he will at once begin to plot against us. A cabin boy who the conspirators think is asleep in his bunk will overhear their plot and will run to the quarter-deck to give warning; but a pistol shot rings out, and the cabin boy falls at the foot of the companion ladder. The cabin boy is always the first one to go. After that the mutineers kill the first mate, and lock us in our cabin, and take over the ship. They will then broach a cask of rum, and all through the night we will listen to their drunken howlings, and from the cabin airport watch the body of the first mate rolling in the lee scuppers.” “But you forget,” I protested eagerly, “there is always _one_ faithful member of the crew, who——” Edgar interrupted me impatiently. “I have not overlooked him,” he said. “He is a Jamaica negro of gigantic proportions, or the ship’s cook; but he always gets his too, and he gets it good. They throw _him_ to the sharks! Then we all camp out on a desert island inhabited only by goats, and we build a stockade, and the mutineers come to treat with us under a white flag, and we, trusting entirely to their honor, are fools enough to go out and talk with them. At which they shoot us up, and withdraw laughing scornfully.” Edgar fixed his eye-glasses upon me accusingly. “Am I right, or am I wrong?” he demanded. I was unable to answer. “The only man,” continued Edgar warmly, “who ever showed the slightest intelligence in the matter was the fellow in the ‘Gold Bug’. _He_ kept his mouth shut. He never let any one know that he was after buried treasure, until he found it. That’s me! Now I know _exactly_ where this treasure is, and——” I suppose, involuntarily, I must have given a start of interest; for Edgar paused and shook his head, slyly and cunningly. “And if you think I have the map on my person now,” he declared in triumph, “you’ll have to guess again!” “Really,” I protested, “I had no intention——” “Not you, perhaps,” said Edgar grudgingly; “but your Japanese valet conceals himself behind those curtains, follows me home, and at night——” “I haven’t got a valet,” I objected. Edgar merely smiled with the most aggravating self-sufficiency. “It makes no difference,” he declared. “_No one_ will ever find that map, or see that map, or know where that treasure is, until _I_ point to the spot.” “Your caution is admirable,” I said; “but what,” I jeered, “makes you think you can point to the spot, because your map says something like, ‘Through the Sunken Valley to Witch’s Caldron, four points N. by N. E. to Gallows Hill where the shadow falls at sunrise, fifty fathoms west, fifty paces north as the crow flies, to the Seven Wells’? How the deuce,” I demanded, “is any one going to point to _that_ spot?” “It isn’t that kind of map,” shouted Edgar triumphantly. “If it had been, I wouldn’t have gone on with it. It’s a map anybody can read except a half-caste Portuguese sailor. It’s as plain as a laundry bill. It says,” he paused apprehensively, and then continued with caution, “it says at such and such a place there is a something. So many somethings from that something are three what-you-may-call-’ems, and in the centre of these three what-you-may-call-’ems is buried the treasure. It’s as plain as that!” “Even with the few details you have let escape you,” I said, “I could find _that_ spot in my sleep.” “I don’t think you could,” said Edgar uncomfortably; but I could see that he had mentally warned himself to be less communicative. “And,” he went on, “I am willing to lead you to it, if you subscribe to certain conditions.” Edgar’s insulting caution had ruffled my spirit. “Why do you think you can trust ME?” I asked haughtily. And then, remembering my share of the million dollars, I added in haste, “I accept the conditions.” “Of course, as you say, one has got to take _some_ risk,” Edgar continued; “but I feel sure,” he said, regarding me doubtfully, “you would not stoop to open robbery.” I thanked him. “Well, until one is tempted,” said Edgar, “one never knows _what_ he might do. And I’ve simply _got_ to have one other man, and I picked on you because I thought you could write about it.” “I see,” I said, “I am to act as the historian of the expedition.” “That will be arranged later,” said Edgar. “What I chiefly want you for is to dig. _Can_ you dig?” he asked eagerly. I told him I could; but that I would rather do almost anything else. “I _must_ have one other man,” repeated Edgar, “a man who is strong enough to dig, and strong enough to resist the temptation to murder me.” The retort was so easy that I let it pass. Besides, on Edgar, it would have been wasted. “I _think_ you will do,” he said with reluctance. “And now the conditions!” I smiled agreeably. “You are already sworn to secrecy,” said Edgar. “And you now agree in every detail to obey me implicitly, and to accompany me to a certain place, where you will dig. If I find the treasure, you agree, to help me guard it, and convey it to wherever I decide it is safe to leave it. Your responsibility is then at an end. One year after the treasure is discovered, you will be free to write the account of the expedition. For what you write, some magazine may pay you. What it pays you will be your share of the treasure.” Of my part of the million dollars, which I had hastily calculated could not be less than one-fifth, I had already spent over one hundred thousand dollars and was living far beyond my means. I had bought a farm with a waterfront on the Sound, a motor-boat, and, as I was not sure which make I preferred, three automobiles. I had at my own, expense produced a play of mine that no manager had appreciated, and its name in electric lights was already blinding Broadway. I had purchased a Hollander express rifle, a _real_ amber cigar holder, a private secretary who could play both rag-time and tennis, and a fur coat. So Edgar’s generous offer left me naked. When I had again accustomed myself to the narrow confines of my flat, and the jolt of the surface cars, I asked humbly: “Is that _all_ I get?” “Why should you expect any more?” demanded Edgar. “It isn’t _your_ treasure. You wouldn’t expect me to make you a present of an interest in my mills; why should you get a share of my treasure?” He gazed at me reproachfully. “I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. “It must be hard to think of things to write about, and I’m giving you a subject for nothing. I thought,” he remonstrated, “you’d jump at the chance. It isn’t every day a man can dig for buried treasure.” “That’s all right,” I said. “Perhaps I appreciate that quite as well as you do. But my time has a certain small value, and I can’t leave my work just for excitement. We may be weeks, months—— How long do you think we——” Behind his eye-glasses Edgar winked reprovingly. “That is a leading question,” he said. “I will pay all your legitimate expenses—transportation, food, lodging. It won’t cost you a cent. And you write the story—with my name left out,” he added hastily; “it would hurt my standing in the trade,” he explained—“and get paid for it.” I saw a sea voyage at Edgar’s expense. I saw palm leaves, coral reefs. I felt my muscles aching and the sweat run from my neck and shoulders as I drove my pick into the chest of gold. “I’ll go with you!” I said. We shook hands on it. “When do we start?” I asked. “Now!” said Edgar. I thought he wished to test me; he had touched upon one of my pet vanities. “You can’t do that with me!” I said. “My bags are packed and ready for any place in the wide world, except the cold places. I can start this minute. Where is it, the Gold Coast, the Ivory Coast, the Spanish Main——” Edgar frowned inscrutably. “Have you an empty suit-case?” he asked. “Why EMPTY?” I demanded. “To carry the treasure,” said Edgar. “I left mine in the hall. We will need two.” “And your trunks?” I said. “There aren’t going to be any trunks,” said Edgar. From his pocket he had taken a folder of the New Jersey Central Railroad. “If we hurry,” he exclaimed, “we can catch the ten-thirty express, and return to New York in time for dinner.” “And what about the treasure?” I roared. “We’ll’ bring it with us,” said Edgar. I asked for information. I demanded confidences. Edgar refused both. I insisted that I might be allowed at least to carry my automatic pistol. “Suppose some one tries to take the treasure from us?” I pointed out. “No one,” said Edgar severely, “would be such an ass as to imagine we are carrying buried treasure in a suit-case. He will think it contains pajamas.” “For local color, then,” I begged, “I want to say in my story that I went heavily armed.” “Say it, then,” snapped Edgar. “But you can’t _do_ it! Not with me, you can’t! How do I know you mightn’t——” He shook his head warily. It was a day in early October, the haze of Indian summer was in the air, and as we crossed the North River by the Twenty-third Street Ferry the sun flashed upon the white clouds overhead and the tumbling waters below. On each side of us great vessels with the Blue Peter at the fore lay at the wharfs ready to cast off, or were already nosing their way down the channel toward strange and beautiful ports. Lamport and Holt were rolling down to Rio; the Royal Mail’s _Magdalena_, no longer “white and gold,” was off to Kingston, where once seven pirates swung in chains; the _Clyde_ was on her way to Hayti where the buccaneers came from; the _Morro Castle_ was bound for Havana, which Morgan, king of all the pirates, had once made his own; and the _Red D_ was steaming to Porto Cabello where Sir Francis Drake, as big a buccaneer as any of them, lies entombed in her harbor. And _I_ was setting forth on a buried-treasure expedition on a snub-nosed, flat-bellied, fresh-water ferry-boat, bound for Jersey City! No one will ever know my sense of humiliation. And, when the Italian boy insulted my immaculate tan shoes by pointing at them and saying, “Shine?” I could have slain him. Fancy digging for buried treasure in freshly varnished boots! But Edgar did not mind. To him there was nothing lacking; it was just as it should be. He was deeply engrossed in calculating how many offices were for rent in the Singer Building! When we reached the other side, he refused to answer any of my eager questions. He would not let me know even for what place on the line he had purchased our tickets, and, as a hint that I should not disturb him, he stuffed into my hands the latest magazines. “At least tell me this,” I demanded. “Have you ever been to this place before to-day?” “Once,” said Edgar shortly, “last week. That’s when I found out I would need some one with me who could dig.” “How do you know it’s the _right_ place?” I whispered. The summer season was over, and of the chair car we were the only occupants; but, before he answered, Edgar looked cautiously round him and out of the window. We had just passed Red Bank. “Because the map told me,” he answered. “Suppose,” he continued fretfully, “you had a map of New York City with the streets marked on it plainly? Suppose the map said that if you walked to where Broadway and Fifth Avenue meet, you would find the Flatiron Building. Do you think you could find it?” “Was it as easy as _that?_” I gasped. “It was as easy as _that!_” said Edgar. I sank back into my chair and let the magazines slide to the floor. What fiction story was there in any one of them so enthralling as the actual possibilities that lay before me? In two hours I might be bending over a pot of gold, a sea chest stuffed with pearls and rubies! I began to recall all the stories I had heard as a boy of treasure buried along the coast by Kidd on his return voyage from the Indies. Where along the Jersey sea-line were there safe harbors? The train on which we were racing south had its rail head at Barnegat Bay. And between Barnegat and Red Bank there now was but one other inlet, that of the Manasquan River. It might be Barnegat; it might be Manasquan. It could not be a great distance from either; for sailors would not have carried their burden far from the ship. I glanced appealingly at Edgar. He was smiling happily over “Pickings from Puck.” We passed Asbury Park and Ocean Grove, halted at Sea Girt, and again at Manasquan; but Egdar did not move. The next station was Point Pleasant, and as the train drew to a stop, Edgar rose calmly and grasped his suit-case. “We get out here,” he said. Drawn up at the station were three open-work hacks with fringe around the top. From each a small boy waved at us with his whip. “Curtis House? The Gladstone? The Cottage in the Pines?” they chanted invitingly. “Take me to a hardware store,” said Edgar, “where one can buy a spade.” When we stopped I made a move to get down; but Edgar stopped me. I protested indignantly, “I haven’t _much_ to say about this expedition;” I exclaimed, “but, as _I_ have to do the digging, I intend to choose my own spade.” Edgar’s eye-glasses flashed defiance. “You have given your word to obey me,” he said sternly. “If you do not intend to obey me, you can return in ten minutes by the next train.” I sank into my seat. In a moment the mutiny had been crushed. Not even a cabin boy had fallen! Edgar returned with a spade, an axe, and a pick. He placed them in the seat beside the boy driver. “What is your name, boy?” he asked. “Rupert,” said the boy. “Rupert,” continued Edgar, “drive us to the beach. When you get to the bathing pavilions keep on along the shore toward Manasquan Inlet.” He touched the spade with his hand. “I have bought a building lot on the beach,” he explained, “and am going to dig a hole, and plant a flagpole.” I was choked with indignation. As a writer of fiction my self-respect was insulted. “If there are any more lies to be told,” I whispered, “please let _me_ tell them. Your invention is crude, ridiculous! Why,” I demanded, “should anybody want to plant a flagpole on a wind-swept beach in October? It’s not the season for flagpoles. Besides,” I jeered, “where is your flagpole? Is it concealed in the suit-case?” Edgar frowned uneasily, and touched the boy on the shoulder. “The flagpole itself,” he explained, “is coming down to-morrow by express.” The boy yawned, and slapped the flanks of his horse with the reins. “Gat up!” he said. We crossed the railroad tracks and moved toward the ocean down a broad, sandy road. The season had passed and the windows of the cottages and bungalows on either side of the road were barricaded with planks. On the verandas hammocks abandoned to the winds hung in tatters, on the back porches the doors of empty refrigerators swung open on one hinge, and on every side above the fields of gorgeous golden-rod rose signs reading “For Rent.” When we had progressed in silence for a mile, the sandy avenue lost itself in the deeper sand of the beach, and the horse of his own will came to a halt. On one side we were surrounded by locked and deserted bathing houses, on the other by empty pavilions shuttered and barred against the winter, but still inviting one to “Try our salt water taffy” or to “_Keep cool_ with an ice-cream soda.” Rupert turned and looked inquiringly at Edgar. To the north the beach stretched in an unbroken line to Manasquan Inlet. To the south three miles away we could see floating on the horizon-like a mirage the hotels and summer cottages of Bay Head. “Drive toward the inlet,” directed Edgar. “This gentleman and I will walk.” Relieved of our weight, the horse stumbled bravely into the trackless sand, while below on the damper and firmer shingle we walked by the edge of the water. The tide was coming in and the spent waves, spreading before them an advance guard of tiny shells and pebbles, threatened our boots’ and at the same time in soothing, lazy whispers warned us of their attack. These lisping murmurs and the crash and roar of each incoming wave as it broke were the only sounds. And on the beach we were the only human figures. At last the scene began to bear some resemblance to one set for an adventure. The rolling ocean, a coast steamer dragging a great column of black smoke, and cast high upon the beach the wreck of a schooner, her masts tilting drunkenly, gave color to our purpose. It became filled with greater promise of drama, more picturesque. I began to thrill with excitement. I regarded Edgar appealingly, in eager supplication. At last he broke the silence that was torturing me. “We will now walk higher up,” he commanded. “If we get our feet wet, we may take cold.” My spirit was too far broken to make reply. But to my relief I saw that in leaving the beach Edgar had some second purpose. With each heavy step he was drawing toward two high banks of sand in a hollow behind which, protected by the banks, were three stunted, wind-driven pines. His words came back to me. “So many what-you-may-call-’ems.” Were these pines the three somethings from something, the what-you-may-call-’ems? The thought chilled me to the spine. I gazed at them fascinated. I felt like falling on my knees in the sand and tearing their secret from them with my bare hands. I was strong enough to dig them up by the roots, strong enough to dig the Panama Canal! I glanced tremulously at Edgar. His eyes were wide open and, eloquent with dismay, his lower jaw had fallen. He turned and looked at me for the first time with consideration. Apology and remorse were written in every line of his countenance. I’m sorry, he stammered. I had a cruel premonition. I exclaimed with distress. “You have lost the map!” I hissed. “No, no,” protested Edgar; “but I entirely forgot to bring any lunch!” With violent mutterings I tore off my upper and outer garments and tossed them into the hack. “Where do I begin?” I asked. Edgar pointed to a spot inside the triangle formed by the three trees and equally distant from each. “Put that horse behind the bank,” I commanded, “where no one can see him! And both you and Rupert keep off the sky-line!” From the north and south we were now all three hidden by the two high banks of sand; to the east lay the beach and the Atlantic Ocean, and to the west stretches of marshes that a mile away met a wood of pine trees and the railroad round-house. I began to dig. I knew that weary hours lay before me, and I attacked the sand leisurely and with deliberation. It was at first no great effort; but as the hole grew in depth, and the roots of the trees were exposed, the work was sufficient for several men. Still, as Edgar had said, it is not every day that one can dig for treasure, and in thinking of what was to come I forgot my hands that quickly blistered, and my breaking back. After an hour I insisted that Edgar should take a turn; but he made such poor headway that my patience could not contain me, and I told him I was sufficiently rested and would continue. With alacrity he scrambled out of the hole, and, taking a cigar from my case, seated himself comfortably in the hack. I took my comfort in anticipating the thrill that would be mine when the spade would ring on the ironbound chest; when, with a blow of the axe, I would expose to view the hidden jewels, the pieces of eight, coated with verdigris, the string of pearls, the chains of yellow gold. Edgar had said a million dollars. That must mean there would be diamonds, many diamonds. I would hold them in my hands, watch them, at the sudden sunshine, blink their eyes and burst into tiny, burning fires. In imagination I would replace them in the setting, from which, years before, they had been stolen. I would try to guess whence they came from a jewelled chalice in some dim cathedral, from the breast of a great lady, from the hilt of an admiral’s sword. After another hour I lifted my aching shoulders and, wiping the sweat from my eyes, looked over the edge of the hole. Rupert, with his back to the sand-hill, was asleep. Edgar with one hand was waving away the mosquitoes and in the other was holding one of the magazines he had bought on the way down. I could even see the page upon which his eyes were riveted. It was an advertisement for breakfast food. In my indignation the spade slipped through my cramped and perspiring fingers, and as it struck the bottom of the pit, something—a band of iron, a steel lock, an iron ring—gave forth a muffled sound. My heart stopped beating as suddenly as though Mr. Corbett had hit it with his closed fist. My blood turned to melted ice. I drove the spade down as fiercely as though it was a dagger. It sank into rotten wood. I had made no sound; for I could hardly breathe. But the slight noise of the blow had reached Edgar. I heard the springs of the hack creak as he vaulted from it, and the next moment he was towering above me, peering down into the pit. His eyes were wide with excitement, greed, and fear. In his hands he clutched the two suit-cases. Like a lion defending his cubs he glared at me. “Get out!” he shouted. [Illustration: In his hands he clutched the two suit-cases. . . . “Get out!” he shouted.] “Like hell!” I said. “Get out!” he roared. “I’ll do the rest. That’s mine, not yours! _Get out!_” With a swift kick I brushed away the sand. I found I was standing on a squat wooden box, bound with bands of rusty iron. I had only to stoop to touch it. It was so rotten that I could have torn it apart with my bare hands. Edgar was dancing on the edge of the pit, incidentally kicking sand into my mouth and nostrils. “You _promised_ me!” he roared. “You _promised_ to obey me!” “You ass!” I shouted. “Haven’t I done all the work? Don’t I get——” “You get out!” roared Edgar. Slowly, disgustedly, with what dignity one can display in crawling out of a sand-pit, I scrambled to the top. “Go over there,” commanded Edgar pointing, “and sit down.” In furious silence I seated myself beside Rupert. He was still slumbering and snoring happily. From where I sat I could see nothing of what was going forward in the pit, save once, when the head of Edgar, his eyes aflame and his hair and eye-glasses sprinkled with sand, appeared above it. Apparently he was fearful lest I had moved from the spot where he had placed me. I had not; but had he known my inmost feelings he would have taken the axe into the pit with him. I must have sat so for half an hour. In the sky above me a fish-hawk drifted lazily. From the beach sounded the steady beat of the waves, and from the town across the marshes came the puffing of a locomotive and the clanging bells of the freight trains. The breeze from the sea cooled the sweat on my aching body; but it could not cool the rage in my heart. If I had the courage of my feelings, I would have cracked Edgar over head with the spade, buried him in the pit, bribed Rupert, and forever after lived happily on my ill-gotten gains. That was how Kidd, or Morgan, or Blackbeard would have acted. I cursed the effete civilization which had taught me to want many pleasures but had left me with a conscience that would not let me take human life to obtain them, not even Edgar’s life. In half an hour a suit-case was lifted into view and dropped on the edge of the pit. It was followed by the other, and then by Edgar. Without asking me to help him, because he probably knew I would not, he shovelled the sand into the hole, and then placed the suitcases in the carriage. With increasing anger I observed that the contents of each were so heavy that to lift it he used both hands. “There is no use your asking any questions,” he announced, “because I won’t answer them.” I gave him minute directions as to where he could go; but instead we drove in black silence to the station. There Edgar rewarded Rupert with a dime, and while we waited for the train to New York placed the two suit-cases against the wall of the ticket office and sat upon them. When the train arrived he warned me in a hoarse whisper that I had promised to help him guard the treasure, and gave me one of the suit-cases. It weighed a ton. Just to spite Edgar, I had a plan to kick it open, so that every one on the platform might scramble for the contents. But again my infernal New England conscience restrained me. Edgar had secured the drawing-room in the parlor-car, and when we were safely inside and the door bolted my curiosity became stronger than my pride. “Edgar,” I said, “your ingratitude is contemptible. Your suspicions are ridiculous; but, under these most unusual conditions, I don’t blame you. But we are quite safe now. The door is fastened,” I pointed out ingratiatingly, “it and this train doesn’t stop for another forty minutes. I think this would be an excellent time to look at the treasure.” “I don’t!” said Edgar. I sank back into my chair. With intense enjoyment I imagined the train in which we were seated hurling itself into another train; and everybody, including Edgar, or, rather, especially Edgar, being instantly but painlessly killed. By such an act of an all-wise Providence I would at once become heir to one million dollars. It was a beautiful, satisfying dream. Even MY conscience accepted it with a smug smile. It was so vivid a dream that I sat guiltily expectant, waiting for the crash to come, for the shrieks and screams, for the rush of escaping steam and breaking window-panes. But it was far too good to be true. Without a jar the train carried us and its precious burden in safety to the Jersey City terminal. And each, with half a million dollars in his hand, hurried to the ferry, assailed by porters, news-boys, hackmen. To them we were a couple of commuters saving a dime by carrying our own hand-bags. It was now six o’clock, and I pointed out to Edgar that at that hour the only vaults open were those of the Night and Day Bank. And to that institution in a taxicab we at once made our way. I paid the chauffeur, and two minutes later, with a gasp of relief and rejoicing, I dropped the suit-case I had carried on a table in the steel-walled fastnesses of the vaults. Gathered excitedly around us were the officials of the bank, summoned hastily from above, and watchmen in plain clothes, and watchmen in uniforms of gray. Great bars as thick as my leg protected us. Walls of chilled steel rising from solid rock stood between our treasure and the outer world. Until then I had not known how tremendous the nervous strain had been; but now it came home to me. I mopped the perspiration from my forehead, I drew a deep breath. “Edgar,” I exclaimed happily, “I congratulate you!” I found Edgar extending toward me a two-dollar bill. “You gave the chauffeur two dollars,”’ he said. “The fare was really one dollar eighty; so you owe me twenty cents.” Mechanically I laid two dimes upon the table. “All the other expenses,” continued Edgar, “which I agreed to pay, I have paid.” He made a peremptory gesture. “I won’t detain you any longer,” he said. “Good-night!” “Good-night!” I cried. “Don’t I see the treasure?” Against the walls of chilled steel my voice rose like that of a tortured soul. “Don’t I touch it!” I yelled. “Don’t I even get a squint?” Even the watchmen looked sorry for me. “You do not!” said Edgar calmly. “You have fulfilled your part of the agreement. I have fulfilled mine. A year from now you can write the story.” As I moved in a dazed state toward the steel door, his voice halted me. “And you can say in your story,” called Edgar, “that there is only one way to get a buried treasure. That is to go, and get it!” *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BURIED TREASURE *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.