Now there was no longer a doubt that the same black schooner lay in the cove, having run in there under cover of darkness, for all of the frightful risk.
The boys had heard one of the men speak to Capt. Horn as they crouched to let them pass, and that was quite enough to settle the point.
Who was Capt. Horn?
He was the commander of the black schooner Pirate, but what was his record and his business? He had looked like a man who would not hesitate to enter into anything by which it seemed likely he might make money, no matter how dishonest or dangerous the project might be.
Frank crept a bit nearer the four men, hugging the ground. The others followed him.
Merriwell remembered the stories he had heard of other attempts to recover Kidd’s buried treasure—remembered how it had been necessary, according to superstition, for the treasure hunters to obey certain rules. They always dug on a dark and stormy night, and not one of the party could speak from the time they began to work till the treasure was found. If they did speak the treasure would turn to old iron or vanish entirely.
For some time the boys watched the digging, wondering if there was a bare possibility that, at last, some one had located the spot where the pirate’s treasure was buried.
The hole grew deeper and deeper. The two men got down into it, and were hidden to their hips.
Frank became tired. He resolved to test the courage of the diggers in some manner.
The wind sank to a low moaning, but, from far, far away it seemed to bring a sound that caused the men in the hole to start, stop digging and listen.