The day was bright and somewhat cool and they made rapid progress, the boys in their eagerness keeping always ahead of their elders. The older men wisely held them in check, realizing that there was a long journey in front of them and not wishing to run the risk of tiring out before they got there. They halted once for a meal and then pushed on, not stopping for a nap in the afternoon, since it was not hot enough to do so, and just as evening drew on they topped a small hill and looked down on the valley in which Jim and Terry had so nearly lost their life.
“There is the wreck!” shouted Jim, pointing to the corner of the galleon which they had uncovered. “Looks as though no one had been near it, all right.”
No one had apparently been near the place, for there were no traces of footmarks in the sand other than those left by the two boys and the treacherous overseer. They rode down the incline and picketed the horses, hastening at once to the few feet of deck uncovered. The professor gazed at the uncovered rail in rapture.
“By George, this is wonderful!” he exclaimed, his face glowing with the enthusiasm of the scholar. “Just think, after reading a story like that, to run across the very ship on which it happened! I hope we can uncover the whole ship!”
“Ned,” asked Don. “Where was that piece of wreckage found, the piece that first gave the idea of a sunken galleon?”
“About three miles north of here,” replied the engineer. “I guess I see what you are getting at. You think that the piece was washed out of the creek that used to be here, and was found, after it drifted down shore?”
“Yes,” nodded Don. “Don’t you think so?”
“I surely do,” assented Ned, stepping down onto the deck of the buried galleon. “Is this the hatchway?”
Terry lifted the hatch, which they had replaced when they had left the galleon with the Mexican. “Yes, and here is the flight of stairs. Did anyone bring a flashlight?”
“I have one,” said the professor, producing it from his saddle bag. “Let’s be very careful about going down those stairs.”