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