“Yes,” continued Mr. Folsom when the expressions of surprise had died out, “Bill’s real name is Jule Verny, or Verginaud. He was just a young chap when they took the old man prisoner and shot his elder brother, but he must have been a good swimmer, for they say he swam all the way from the island to Fort Point. Anyhow, he got away. And he stayed away for years, although there wasn’t any reason why he should have, for he was just a boy and didn’t have anything to do with his father’s misdeeds, I guess. He showed up in Greenhaven years afterwards, when he was about thirty, I suppose, and no one would ever have known who he was if old Mother Chilten, who was about a hundred and never forgot a face, hadn’t called him by his name on the wharf one day. And Bill wouldn’t lie about it. But he always clung to the name of Glass, which I’ve suspected was a nickname given him on account of his glass eye. So now you know who Bill Glass is.”

“But I don’t see,” said Bee presently, “why Bill seemed so anxious to have us dig for the treasure. He always insisted that it was there somewhere and that we might find it. If it is his—”

“Perhaps that is the reason,” replied Mr. Folsom with a smile. “I guess Bill has hunted pretty well for it and now he’s willing to have someone else do the work for him. I guess if you had found it you’d have discovered Bill not very far away, Bee! I suppose now you’ll give up your treasure hunting. I didn’t tell you this before because I thought there wasn’t much danger of your running across it and I didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“I’m not ready to give up yet,” replied Bee stoutly. “After all, it isn’t the money we want; it—it’s just the finding it! And unless the others are tired of it I’d like to keep on awhile longer. Anyway, it’s lots of fun on Nobody’s, Mr. Folsom, and I’m getting so I’d rather sleep in a tent than indoors!”

“We’ll give you until Monday, Bee,” laughed Hal. “If you haven’t found the treasure by that time we’ll quit. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

Bee agreed that it was, and shortly afterwards Jack, thanking Mr. Folsom again for his kindness, took his departure for the Neck. He didn’t go to sleep very soon after he was in bed, in spite of the fact that the hour was late. He had far too much to think about and was far too happy!

The next forenoon the Crystal Spring returned to the island, but owing to the fact that there was almost no breeze—the day had turned out hot and sultry—it was nearly dinner time when she reached her anchorage. As the anchor splashed, Hal, who had laid hold of the Corsair, which was to bear them ashore, glanced toward the wharf. Instantly—

“Jack!” he cried. “Bee! The dory’s back!”

And sure enough, there was the Faith tugging gently at the painter. Conjecture was rife and the mystery was not explained until the Corsair was alongside the dory. In the bottom of the boat, lying on an old net, were the things stolen from the launch!

“There’s the compass!” exclaimed Bee.

“And the fog-horn!” said Hal.

“And the lanterns!” added Jack.

In fact, everything had been returned except the boat-hook, and why that was not there was explained a moment later when Hal descried an envelope tucked amongst the articles. It was addressed to “Mister H. Folsom, Esq.” and Hal broke the flap and drew forth a sheet of blue-lined, gilt-edged paper.

“It’s from Bill Glass,” he exclaimed. “Listen, fellows.” And, with pauses where Bill’s pencil had run away from him or failed to work smoothly, Hal read:

“Dear sir, here be your dory. I seen you wan’t going to look for it so i done it for you. Them portigees had it like i knewed they had and told you so. I had to pay them 2 dollars and ½ before they let go of them but thats alright because you paid me 4 dollars for bringing you off Hog Island and that was more than the job was warth but i was cross because you thot i had stolen your belongings. Wishing you luck i remane resp’t’y yours H. B. Glass.

“P. S. The boathook want there but i got one you can have cheap the one i showed you.

“P. P. S. Regards to the others from H. B. G.”

“What’s the H. stand for?” asked Bee when they had read the note the second time.

“Why, Honest,” replied Jack. “Honest Bill Glass. See?”

“Well, he’s certainly proud of that first name, isn’t he?” Bee laughed.

“I guess he has a right to be,” returned Jack. “It isn’t such a bad first name, Bee.”

“No, that’s true. Well, he is certainly a brick, fellows. And we’ll have to look him up and thank him.”

“Maybe he will look us up,” replied Jack. “He probably left the dory here on his way out. I wonder who the ‘Portigees’ are who took the things. Probably some of those who live up by the track. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to sneak down the river at night and not be seen. Anyhow, I guess it doesn’t matter, now that we’ve got everything back—everything except the boat-hook. And as Bill says he has one we can have cheap.”

“I guess the least we can do is buy it,” laughed Hal. “Let’s go up and see if things are all right in the tent.”

Their way led them by the scene of their recent excavations and suddenly Bee gave a cry of surprise and regret.

“Fellows, the tree’s blown down! Gee, but I’m sorry. I liked that tree; it was such a plucky little old chap. And I suppose it was our fault, too. We dug around the roots and weakened it.”

Bee walked across to where the apple tree lay on its side on the sand, uprooted, its leaves already limp and withered. He viewed it sorrowfully for a moment and then turned away to overtake the others. As he did so his gaze encountered something which protruded from the soil in the hole left by the uptorn tree. For a moment he stared unbelievingly. Then, with a shout of triumph, he jumped into the depression and when the others looked around he was half out of sight and a perfect stream of sand was flying through the air! When Hal and Jack, hurrying back, reached the scene Bee already uncovered one end of an iron chest. “Quick!” he panted. “Get the shovels! I’ve found the treasure!”