“I believe this isn’t a good place,” said Ambrose hopelessly, resting on his spade, “let’s try somewhere else.”
Just as he spoke David’s spade struck against something with a sharp clinking sound.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Ambrose.
All his excitement returning he threw himself on the ground and scratched away the earth with his hands.
“Wait a moment!” he cried; “don’t dig. I see something shining.”
“What’s it like?” asked David breathlessly. He could see nothing, for Ambrose had thrust his head right into the hole. He presently withdrew it, and looked up at David nearly choking and almost speechless with eagerness.
“I don’t know yet,” he managed to say, “we must get the earth away from it.”
He scooped up handful after handful, and David, sitting on his heels, watched the operations with deep solemnity. He could see a bit of this mysterious object now, and presently he remarked:
“I believe it’s only a bit of broken china.”
“Nonsense!” said Ambrose hoarsely. His face was scarlet; he could hardly speak. Ghosts, robbers, and all other terrors forgotten, his whole soul was bent on unearthing this long-dreamed-of treasure.