the nearest safe port to blow it all on an orgy. Of course,
once in a blue moon they buried or hid the valuables they got
from one ship while they went after another. And if they
chanced to sink or be captured and hanged during such a raid
the treasure remained hidden. If they survived, they blew it.
That's the one off-chance of there ever being any buried
pirate treasure. And there would be precious little of it.
at that. A few hundred dollars worth at most. No, Brice.
this everlasting legend of buried treasure is fine in a
sea-yarn. But in real life it's buncombe."

"But this same man told me there were stories of bullion ships
and even more modern vessels carrying a money cargo that sank
in these waters, during storms or from running into reefs,"
pursued Brice, with no great show of interest, as he leaned
far overside for a second glimpse at a school of five-foot
baracuda which-lay basking on the snowy surface of the sand.
two fathoms below the boat. "That, at least, sounds probable.
doesn't it?"

"No," snapped Milo flushing angrily and his brow creasing, "it
doesn't. These water are traversed every year by thousands
of craft of all sizes. The water is crystal clear. Any
wrecked ship could be seen at the bottom. Why, everybody has
seen the hull of that old tramp steamer a few miles above
here. It's in deep water, at that. What chance--?"

"Yet there are hundreds of such stories afloat," persisted
Brice. "And there are more yarns of buried treasure among the
keys than there are keys. For instance didn't old Caesar, the