"I don't know. The lock is closed, but it is only an ordinary iron one,
and perhaps you might break it with the axe. There is no other lock that I
can see. Try breaking it open, Dick."

Percival struck the padlock a terrific blow with the axe, and broke it in
half, it being just a cast-iron affair and easily broken.

"It seems funny to put a lock like that upon a chest supposed to contain
something worth while," remarked Jack, as he removed the pieces of the
lock, pulled aside the hasp and opened the chest. "That is the way some
persons do, however."

Throwing back the lid of the chest he found a tray containing some papers,
a pair of pistols and a knife, a few odd trinkets of very little value,
some loose cigarettes, two or three dozen in number, a cheap photograph,
and a purse made of silver mesh containing a few gold coins.

"Whose picture is that, Dick?" he asked, handing the photograph to
Percival, who took it and examined it carefully.

"Why, that's Villa or some of those rebel Mexicans," Dick answered. "I
have seen it in the papers often. What's in the body of the chest?"

Jack removed the tray and set it on the floor, opening his eyes with
astonishment, and giving vent to a startled exclamation at the same time.

"Well, it is not Captain Kidd, Dick," he cried, "but it is money, just the
same, bags of it, and gold," untying the cord around one of the bags, and
showing it to be full of gold pieces.