"Now, Dicky, this has _got_ to be more than just a 'Study of a Boy's
Head.' I want to show by the expression of your face that it is an
illustration of that poem, 'A boy's will is the wind's will, and the
thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' Chase that Binney Rogers and
his gang out of your mind for a while, can't you, and think of something
beside shinny and the hokey-pokey man."

So far the portrait was satisfactory in that it was a remarkably good
likeness of an unusually good-looking boy, but it was of a boy who seemed
to be alertly listening for such things as Binney's cat-call, signaling
him from the alley. Here by the sea there was no need for such
exhortations. No sooner was he seated before the easel in the loft which
served as a studio, with its barn-like, double doors thrown open above
the water, than the rapt expression which his father coveted, crept into
his dark eyes. They grew big and dreamy, following the white sails across
the harbor. He was planning the secret expedition he and Georgina
intended to undertake, just as soon as the portrait was finished.

There were many preparations to make for it. They would have to secrete
tools and provisions; and in a book from which Georgina read aloud
whenever there was opportunity, were descriptions of various rites that
it were well to perform. One was to sacrifice a black cock, and sprinkle
its blood upon the spot before beginning to dig. Richard did not question
why this should be done. The book recommended it as a practice which had
been followed by some very famous treasure hunters. If at times a certain
wide-awake and calculating gleam suddenly dispelled the dreaminess of
expression in which his father was exulting, it was because a black
Orpington rooster which daily strayed from a nearby cottage to the beach
below the studio window, chose that moment to crow. Richard had marked