That evening, in the seclusion of their apartment at Carvel Hall, they took Axtell into their confidence—to a certain extent (though, again, he protested his willingness simply to obey orders). They told him, in a general way, of Parmenter’s bequest, and how Croyden came to be the legatee—saying nothing of its great value, however—its location, the loss of the letter the previous evening, the episode of the thieves on the Point, that morning, and their evident intention to return to the quest.

“Now, what we want to know is: are you ready to help us—unaided by the law—to seize these men and hold them prisoners, while we search for the treasure?” Croyden asked. “We may be killed in the attempt, or we may kill one or both of them, and have to stand trial if detected. If you don’t want to take the risk, you have only to decline—and hold your tongue.”

“My dear Mr. Croyden!” said Axtell, “I don’t want you to pay me a cent—just give me my board and lodging and I’ll gladly aid you as long as necessary. It’s a very little thing to do for one who has lost so much through us. You provide for our defense, if we’re apprehended by the law, 151 and that” (snapping his fingers) “for the risk.”

Croyden held out his hand.

“We’ll shake hands on that, Axtell, if you please,” he said; “and, if we recover what Parmenter buried, you’ll not regret it.”

The following morning saw them down at the Point with the equipage and other paraphernalia. The men, whom they had brought from Annapolis for the purpose, pitched the tents under the trees, ditched them, received their pay, climbed into the wagons and rumbled away to town—puzzled that anyone should want to camp on Greenberry Point when they had the price of a hotel, and three square meals a day.

“It looks pretty good,” said Croyden, when the canvases were up and everything arranged—“and we shan’t lack for the beautiful in nature. This is about the prettiest spot I’ve ever seen, the Chesapeake and the broad river—the old town and the Academy buildings—the warships at anchor—the tout ensemble! We may not find the treasure, but, at least, we’ve got a fine camp—though, I reckon, it is a bit breezy when the wind is from the Bay.”

“I wonder if we should have paid our respects to the Superintendent before poaching on his preserves?” said Macloud.

“Hum—hadn’t thought of that!” Croyden answered. “Better go in and show ourselves to him, this afternoon. He seems to be something 152 of a personage down here, and we don’t want to offend him. These naval officers, I’m told, are sticklers for dignity and the prerogatives due their rank.”

“Hold on!” exclaimed Macloud. “On that score, we’ve got some rank ourselves to uphold.”

“What!” said Croyden.

“Certainly! the Chairman of the Committee on Naval Affairs, of the United States Senate, is with us. According to the regulations, is it his duty to call first on the Superintendent?—that’s the point.”

“Give it up!” laughed Croyden. “However, the Superintendent has a copy of the letter, and he will know the ropes. We will wait a day, then, if he’s quiescent, it’s up to us.”

“Great head!” laughed Macloud. “You should have been a diplomat, Croyden—nothing less than an Ambassadorship for you, my boy!”

Croyden smiled.

“A motor boat would be mighty convenient to go back and forth to Annapolis,” he said. “Look at the one cutting through the water there, midway across!”

It came nearer, halted a little way off in deep water, and an officer in uniform swept the tents and them with a glass. Then the boat put about and went chugging upstream.

“We didn’t seem to please him,” remarked Macloud, gazing after the boat. Suddenly it turned 153 in toward shore and made the landing at the Experiment Station.

“We are about to be welcomed or else ordered off—I’ll take a bet either way,” said Macloud.

“Welcomed!” Croyden responded. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have despatched an officer—it would have been a file of marines instead. You haven’t lost the permit, Macloud!”

“You don’t seem very sure!” Macloud laughed.

Presently, the officer appeared, walking rapidly down the roadway. As soon as he sighted the tents, he swung over toward them. Macloud went a few steps forward to meet him.

“Is this Senator Rickrose?” the Lieutenant inquired.

“No,” said Macloud. “Senator Rickrose isn’t coming until later. I am one of his friends, Colin Macloud, and this is Mr. Croyden and Mr. Axtell.”

“Very glad to meet you, gentlemen!” said the Lieutenant. “The Superintendent presents his compliments and desires to place himself and the Academy at your disposal.” (He was instructed to add, that Captain Boswick would pay his respects to-morrow, having been called to Washington to-day by an unexpected wire, but the absence of the Chairman of the Naval Affairs Committee rendered it unnecessary.)

“Thank Captain Boswick, for Senator Rickrose and us, and tell him we appreciate his kindness exceedingly,” Macloud answered. “We’re camping 154 here for a week or so, to try sleeping in the open, under sea air. We’re not likely to prove troublesome!” he added.

Then they took several drinks, and the aide departed.

“So far, we’re making delightful progress,” said Croyden; “but there are breakers ahead when Hook-nose and his partner get in the game. Suppose we inspect the premises and see if they have been here in our absence.”

They went first to the place where they had seen them conceal the tools—these were gone; proof that the thieves had paid a second visit to the Point. But, search as they might, no evidence of work was disclosed.

“What does it mean?” said Croyden. “Have they abandoned the quest?”

“Not very likely,” replied Macloud, “with half a million at stake. They probably are seeking information; when they have it, we shall see them back again.”

“Suppose they bring four or five others to help them?”

“They won’t—never fear!—they’re not sharing the treasure with any one else. Rather, they will knife each other for it. Honor among thieves is like the Phoenix—it doesn’t exist.”

“If the knifing business were to occur before the finding, it would help some!” laughed Croyden. “Meantime, I’m going to look at the ruins of the 155 light-house. I discovered in an almanac I found in the hotel last night, that the original light-house was erected on Greenberry Point in 1818. This fact may help us a lot.”

They went out to the extreme edge, and stood gazing across the shoals toward the ruins.

“What do you make the distance from the land?” Croyden asked.

“About one hundred yards—but it’s very difficult to estimate over water. It may be two hundred for all I can tell.”

“It is exactly three hundred and twenty-two feet from the Point to the near side of the ruins,” said Croyden.

“Why not three hundred and twenty-two and a half feet!” scoffed Macloud.

“I measured it this morning while you were dawdling over your breakfast,” answered Croyden.

“Hitched a line to the land and waded out, I suppose.”

“Not exactly; I measured it on the Government map of the Harbor. It gives the distance as three hundred and twenty-two feet, in plain figures.”

“I said you had a great head!” Macloud exclaimed. “Now, what’s the rest of the figures—or haven’t you worked it out?”

Croyden drew out a paper. “The calculation is of value only on the assumption—which, however, is altogether reasonable—that the light-house, when erected, stood on the tip of the Point. It 156 is now three hundred and twenty-two feet in water. Therefore, dividing ninety-two—the number of years since erection—into three hundred and twenty-two, gives the average yearly encroachment of the Bay as three and a half feet. Parmenter buried the casket in 1720, just a hundred and ninety years ago; so, multiplying a hundred and ninety by three and a half feet gives six hundred and sixty-five feet. In other words, the Point, in 1720, projected six hundred and sixty-five feet further out in the Bay than it does to-day.”

“Then, with the point moved in six hundred and sixty-five feet Parmenter’s beeches should be only eighty-five feet from the shore line, instead of seven hundred and fifty!” Macloud reflected.

“Just so!” said Croyden.

“But where are the beeches?” asked Axtell.

“Disappeared!” Croyden replied. “As the Point from year to year slipped into the Bay, the fierce gales, which sweep up the Chesapeake, gradually ate into the timber. It is seventy years, at least, since Parmenter’s beeches went down.”

“Why shouldn’t the Duvals have noticed the encroachment of the Bay, and made a note of it on the letter?” Macloud asked.

“Probably, because it was so gradual they did not observe it. They, likely, came to Annapolis only occasionally, and Greenberry Point seemed unchanged—always the same narrow stretch of sand, with large trees to landward.” 157

Macloud nodded. “I reckon that’s reasonable.”

“Next let us measure back eighty-five feet,” said Croyden, producing a tape-line.... “There! this is where the beech tree should stand. But where were the other trees, and where did the two lines drawn from them intersect?”...

“Yes, now you have it!” said Macloud—“where were the trees, and where did the lines intersect? I reckon you’re stumped.”

“Let us try some more assuming. You had a compass yesterday, still got it?”

Macloud drew it out and tossed it over.

“I took the trouble to make a number of diagrams last night, and they disclosed a peculiar thing. With the location of the first tree fixed, it matters little where the others were, in determining the direction of the treasure. It is practically the same. The objective point will change as you change the position of the trees, but the direction will vary scarcely at all. It is self-evident, of course, to those who understand such things, but it was a valuable find for me. Now, if we are correct in our assumption, thus far, the treasure is buried——”

He opened the compass, and having brought North under the needle, ran his eye North-by-North-east. A queer look passed over his face, then he glanced at Macloud and smiled.

“The treasure is buried,” he repeated—“the treasure is buried—out in the Bay.” 158

Macloud laughed!

“Looks as if wading would be a bit difficult,” he said dryly.

Croyden produced the tape-line again, and they measured to the low bluff at the water’s edge.

“Two hundred and eighty-two feet to here,” he said, “and Parmenter buried the treasure at three hundred and thirty feet—therefore, it’s forty-eight feet out in the Bay.”

“Then your supposition is that, since Parmenter’s time, the Bay has not only encroached on the Point, but also has eaten in on the sides.”

“It would seem so.”

“It’s hard to dig in water,” Macloud remarked. “It’s apt to fill in the hole, you know.”

“Don’t be sarcastic,” Croyden retorted. “I’m not responsible for the Bay, nor the Point, nor Parmenter, nor anything else connected with the fool quest, please remember.”

“Except the present measurements and the theory on which they’re based,” Macloud replied. “And as the former seem to be accurate, and the latter more than reasonable, we’d best act on them.”

“At least, I am satisfied that the treasure lies either in the Bay, or close on shore; if so, we have relieved ourselves from digging up the entire Point.”

“You have given us a mighty plausible start,” said Macloud.

“Land or water?” Croyden laughed. “Hello, 159 whom have we here?” as a buggy emerged from among the timber, circled around, and halted before the tents.

“It is Hook-nose back again,” said Macloud. “Come to pay a social call, I suppose! Anything about for them to steal?”

“Nothing but the shooting-irons.”

“They’re safe—I put them under the blankets.”

“What the devil do they want?”

“Come to treat with us—to share the treasure.”

“Hum! they’ve got their nerve!” exclaimed Croyden.

By this time, they had been observed by the men in the buggy who, immediately, came toward them.

“Let us get away from this place!” said Croyden, and they sauntered along landward.

“And make them stop us—don’t give the least indication that we know them,” added Macloud.

As the buggy neared, Macloud and Croyden glanced carelessly at the occupants, and were about to pass on, when Hook-nose calmly drew the horse over in front of them.

“Which of you men is named Croyden?” he asked.

“I am,” said Geoffrey.

“Well, you’re the man we’re lookin’ for. Geoffrey is the rest of your handle, isn’t it?”

“You have the advantage of me,” Croyden assured him. 160

“Yes, I think I have, in more ways than your name. Where can we have a little private talk?”

“We can’t!” said Croyden, stepping quickly around the horse and continuing on his way—Macloud and Axtell following.

“If you’d rather have it before your friends, I’m perfectly ready to accommodate you,” said the fellow. “I thought, however, you’d rather keep the little secret. Well, we’ll be waiting for you at the tents, all right, my friend!” and he drove ahead.

“Macloud, we are going to bag those fellows right now—and easy, too,” said Croyden. “When we get to the tents, I’ll take them into one—and give them a chance to talk. When you and Axtell have the revolvers, with one for me, you can join us. They are armed, of course, but only with small pistols, likely, and you should have the drop on them before they can draw. Come, at any time—I’ll let down the tent flaps on the plea of secrecy (since they’ve suggested it), so you can approach with impunity.”

“This is where we get killed, Axtell!” said Macloud. “I would that I were in my happy home, or any old place but here. But I’ve enlisted for the war, so here goes! If you think it will do any good to pray, we can just as well wait until you’ve put up a few. I’m not much in that line, myself.”

“Imagine a broker praying!” laughed Axtell. 161

“I can’t,” said Macloud. “But there seem to be no rules to the game we’re playing, so I wanted to give you the opportunity.”

As they approached the tents, Hook-nose passed the reins to Bald-head and got out.

“What’s to do now?” asked Macloud. “They’re separated.”

“Leave it to me, I’ll get them together,” Croyden answered.... “You wish to see me, privately?” to Hook-nose.

“I wish to see you—it’s up to you whether to make it private or not.”

“Come along!” said Croyden, leading the way toward the tent, which was pitched a trifle to one side.... “Now, sir, what is it?” as the flaps dropped behind them.

“You’ve a business way about you, which I like——” began Hook-nose.

“Never mind my ways!” Croyden interrupted. “Come to the point—what do you want?”

“There’s no false starts with you, my friend, are there!” laughed the other. “That’s the thing—bang! and we are off. Good!—we’ll get to business. You lost a letter recently——”

“Not at all,” Croyden cut in. “I had a letter stolen—you, I suppose, are the thief.”

“I, or my pal—it matters not which,” the fellow replied easily. “Now, what we want, is to make some arrangement as to the division of the treasure, when you’ve found it.” 162

“I thought as much!” said Croyden. “Well, let me tell you there won’t be any arrangement made with you, alone. You must get your pal here—I don’t agree with one. I agree with both or none.”

“Oh, very well, I’ll have him in, if you wish.”

Croyden bowed.

“I do wish,” he said.

Hook-nose went to the front of the tent and raised the flap.

“Bill!” he called, “hitch the horse and come in.”

And Macloud and Axtell heard and understood.

While Hook-nose was summoning his partner, Croyden very naturally retired to the rear of the tent, thus obliging the rogues to keep their backs to the entrance.

“Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Croyden!” said Hook-nose.

“I’m glad to make your acquaint——” began Smith.

“There is no need for an introduction,” Croyden interrupted curtly. “You’re thieves, by profession, and blackmailers, in addition. Get down to business, if you please!”

“You’re not overly polite, my friend—but we’ll pass that by. You’re hell for business, and that’s our style. You understand, I see, that this treasure hunt has got to be kept quiet. If anyone peaches, the Government’s wise and Parmenter’s chest is 163 dumped into its strong box—that is, as much as is left after the officials get their own flippers out. Now, my idea is for you people to do the searching, and, when the jewels is found, me and Bill will take half and youn’s half. Then we all can knock off work, and live respectable.”

“Rather a good bargain for you,” said Croyden. “We supply the information, do all the work and give up half the spoils—for what, pray?”

“For our silence, and an equal share in the information. You have doubtless forgot that we have the letter now.”

“And what if I refuse?” Croyden asked.

“You’re not likely to refuse!” the fellow laughed, impudently. “Better half a big loaf than no loaf at all.”

“But if I refuse?” Croyden repeated.

“I see what’s in your mind, all right. But it won’t work, and you know it. You can have us arrested, yes—and lose your plunder. Parmenter’s money belongs to the United States because it’s buried in United States land. A word to the Treasury Department, with the old pirate’s letter, and the jig is up. We’ll risk your giving us to the police, my friend!” with a sneering laugh. “If you’re one to throw away good money, I miss my guess.”

Croyden affected to consider.

“I forgot to say, that as you’re fixed so comfortable here, me and Bill might as well stay with 164 you—it will be more convenient, when you uncover the chest, you know; in the excitement, you’re liable to forget that we come in for a share.”

“Anything else you are moved to exact?” said Croyden. His ears were primed, and they told him that Macloud and Axtell were coming—“Let us have them all, so I can decide—I want no afterthoughts.”

“You’ve got them all—and very reasonable they are!” laughed Hook-nose.

Just then, Macloud and Axtell stepped noiselessly into the tent.

Something in Croyden’s face caused Hook-nose’s laugh to end abruptly. He swung sharply around—and faced Macloud’s leveled revolver—Axtell’s covered his pal.

“Hands up! Both of you!”—Croyden cried—“None of that, Hook-nose!—make another motion to draw a gun, and we’ll scatter your brains like chickenfeed.” His own big revolver was sticking out of Macloud’s pocket. He took it. “Now, I’ll look after you, while my friends tie up your pal, and the first one to open his head gets a bullet down his throat.”

“Hands behind your back, Bald-head,” commanded Axtell, briskly. “Be quick about it, Mr. Macloud is wonderfully easy on the trigger. So, that’s better! just hold them there a moment.”

He produced a pair of nippers, and snapped them on. 165

“Now, lie down and put your feet together—closer! closer!” Another pair were snapped on them.

“Now, I’ll do for you,” Axtell remarked, turning toward Hook-nose.

With Croyden’s and Macloud’s guns both covering him, the fellow was quickly secured.

“With your permission, we will search you,” said Croyden. “Macloud, if you will look to Mr. Smith, I’ll attend to Hook-nose. We’ll give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“You think you’re damn smart!” exclaimed Hook-nose.

“Shut up!” said Croyden. “I don’t care to shoot a prisoner, but I’ll do it without hesitation. It’s going to be either perfect quiet or permanent sleep—and you may do the choosing.”

He slowly went through Hook-nose’s clothes—finding a small pistol, several well-filled wallets, and, in his inside waistcoat pocket, the Parmenter letter. Macloud did the same for Bald-head.

“You stole one hundred and seventy-nine dollars from Mr. Macloud and one hundred and eight from me,” said Croyden. “You may now have the privilege of returning it, and the letter. If you make no more trouble, lie quiet and take your medicine, you’ll receive no further harm. If you’re stubborn, we’ll either kill you and dump your bodies in the Bay, or give you up to the police. The latter would be less trouble, for, without the letter, 166 you can tell your story to the Department, or whomever else you please—it’s your word against ours—and you are thieves!”

“How long are you going to hold us prisoners?” asked Bald-head—“till you find the treasure? Oh, Lord!”

“As long as it suits our convenience.”

“And luck is with you,” Hook-nose sneered.

“At present, it is with us—very much with us, my friend,” said Croyden. “You will excuse us, now, we have pressing business, elsewhere.”

When they were out of hearing, Macloud said:

“Doesn’t our recovery of Parmenter’s letter change things very materially?”

“It seems to me it does,” Croyden answered. “Indeed, I think we need fear the rogues no longer—we can simply have them arrested for the theft of our wallets, or even release them entirely.”

“Arrest is preferable,” said Macloud. “It will obviate all danger of our being shot at long range, by the beggars. Let us put them where they’re safe, for the time.”

“But the arrest must not be made here!” interposed Croyden. “We can’t send for the police: if they find them here it would give color to their story of a treasure on Greenberry Point.”

“Then Axtell and I will remain on guard, while you go to town and arrange for their apprehension—say, just as they come off the Severn bridge. When you return, we can release them.” 167

“What if they don’t cross the Severn—what if they scent our game, and keep straight on to Baltimore? They can abandon their team, and catch a Short Line train at a way station.”

“Then the Baltimore police can round them up. I’m for chancing it. They’ve lost Parmenter’s letter; haven’t anything to substantiate their story. Furthermore, we have a permit for the Chairman of the Naval Affairs Committee and friends to camp here. I think that, now, we can afford to ignore them—the recovery of the letter was exceedingly lucky.”

“Very good!” said Macloud—“you’re the one to be satisfied; it’s a whole heap easier than running a private prison ourselves.”

Croyden looked the other’s horse over carefully, so he could describe it accurately, then they hitched up their own team and he drove off to Annapolis.

In due time, he returned.

“It’s all right!” he said. “I told the Mayor we had passed two men on the Severn bridge whom we identified as those who picked our pockets, Wednesday evening, in Carvel Hall—and gave him the necessary descriptions. He recognized the team as one of ‘Cheney’s Best,’ and will have the entire police force—which consists of four men—waiting at the bridge on the Annapolis side.” He looked at his watch. “They are there, now, so we can turn the prisoners loose.”

Croyden and Macloud resumed their revolvers, 168 and returned to the tent—to be greeted with a volley of profanity which, for fluency and vocabulary, was distinctly marvelous. Gradually, it died away—for want of breath and words.

“Choice! Choice!” said Croyden. “In the cuss line, you two are the real thing. Why didn’t you open up sooner?—you shouldn’t hide such proficiency from an admiring world.”

Whereat it flowed forth afresh from Hook-nose. Bald-head, however, remained quiet, and there was a faint twinkle in his eyes, as though he caught the humor of the situation. They were severely cramped, and in considerable pain, but their condition was not likely to be benefited by swearing at their captors.

“Just listen to him!” said Croyden, as Hook-nose took a fresh start. “Did you ever hear his equal!... Now, if you’ll be quiet a moment, like your pal, we will tell you something that possibly you’ll not be averse to hear.... So, that’s better. We’re about to release you—let you go free; it’s too much bother to keep you prisoners. These little toy guns of yours, however, we shall throw into the Bay, in interest of the public peace. May we trouble you, Mr. Axtell, to remove the bonds?... Thank you! Now, you may arise and shake yourselves—you’ll, likely, find the circulation a trifle restricted, for a few minutes.”

Hook-nose gave him a malevolent look, but made no reply, Bald-head grinned broadly. 169

“Now, if you have sufficiently recovered, we will escort you to your carriage! Forward, march!”

And with the two thieves in front, and the three revolvers bringing up the rear, they proceeded to the buggy. The thieves climbed in.

“We wish you a very good day!” said Croyden. “Drive on, please!”