eaten luncheon. Then we started on an exploring trip around the
island. It was almost bare of trees, rocky in many places, and
partly covered with scrubby grass. We found half a dozen pits and
shafts where the treasure-seekers had been at work. We climbed the
little hill where the tree stood,--it was gnarled and broken, "a
blasted tree" declared Mr. Daddles in rapture.

"Here's where the treasure chest ought to be buried," he remarked,
"with the skeleton of a pirate or two on top of it."

"This is where the old dead horse was buried," Ed Mason observed,
digging into some loose earth with his foot.

"That must have meant something," I said. "Why should they bring a
horse way up here to bury him?"

"Perhaps they didn't," Ed replied, "perhaps the horse lived up
here."

"I'm afraid you were never made for a treasure-seeker," said Mr.
Daddles.

Jimmy Toppan pointed to the beach on the other side of the hill.
There was a smooth, sandy shore.

"Why not go in swimming down there?" he suggested.

The idea was a good one; we were not making much progress toward
finding any treasure, and the beach certainly looked like a good
place for a swim. The three of us ran down the hill, pulling off