"Oh, it's nothing. We get knocked about a bit by the sea in the
cave now and then."

"You mean you are risking your lives every day for the sake of this
legendary treasure that you have no _reasonable_ reason to suppose
is there."

"Perhaps not," he admitted, "but then it's such good fun looking,
you know."

"That's according to one's idea of fun," I said ironically.

"Oh, well, a chap can't spend his days on flowery beds of ease, of
course. Really, I find this story-book kind of thing we're doing
is _warm stuff_, as you Americans say. And then there's
Shaw--think of the difference it will make to the dear old chap if
we find the gold--buy a ship of his own and snap his fingers at the
P. & O."

"And you'll go along as cabin-boy or something?" "'Fraid not," he
said quite simply. "A chap has his bit to do at home, you know."

The cliffs on the north shore of the cove were considerably higher
than on the other side. The wreck lay close in, driven high upon
the narrow shelf of rocks and sand at the base of the sheer ascent.
Sand had heaped up around her hull and flung itself across her deck
like a white winding-sheet. Surprisingly, the vessel was a very
small one, a little sloop, indeed, much like the fragile
pleasure-boats that cluster under the Sausalito shore at home. The