They both raced over to the stump and Leslie thrust her hand into the hole. “There’s nothing else in there,” she averred, “but perhaps it might be worth while to dig around here and see if there might be some other article buried near it. I’ll get a shovel.”
She disappeared behind her own bungalow for a moment and returned with a shovel. They dug furiously for ten minutes and turned up the sand all about the original hole. Nothing of the slightest interest came to light, however, and they presently abandoned the attempt and filled in the hole again.
“This is all there was—that’s plain,” declared Phyllis, “and all we can think is that it was cast up from some wreck and got buried here.”
But Leslie had been thinking. “Has it occurred to you, Phyllis, that it might have something to do with Curlew’s Nest and the queer thing that happened here? I wonder how long it has been lying in that hole?”
They examined the find again. “I can tell you one thing,” said Phyllis, “if it had been in that sand a long time, I think it would look rather different. To begin with, the burlap bag is in very good condition, whole and strong. It wouldn’t take very long in there for it to become ragged and go to pieces. And besides that, the box would look different. You know that metal like this gets badly corroded and tarnished in a very little while when it’s exposed even to this salt air, not to speak of the water too. I know, because we have some copper trays at the bungalow and they’re always a sight! I have to keep polishing and polishing them to make them look nice. Now this box is very little tarnished since we rubbed it up. It makes me sure it hasn’t been buried long.”
“Well, has there been a wreck, then, very lately?” demanded Leslie.
“Not since last July—and that was only a fishing schooner. No chance in the world that such as this would be aboard of her!”
“Then, as far as I can see, this box must have been buried here—deliberately—and very recently, too!” declared Leslie, solemnly. “Can you think of any other explanation?”
“Leslie, could it have been done last night?” demanded Phyllis, in an awed whisper.
“Oh—I never thought of that. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that was the meaning of the light and all. Phyllis, there’s some queer mystery here! I wonder if we ought to tell folks about it?”