Catty took a look anyhow. The skylight, or whatever they call it, was built above the deck about six inches at the sides and maybe a foot in the middle, and shaped like the roof of a house. There were hinges where the peak of the roof would be, and both sides lifted up to let in air when you wanted it. Underneath was a flat screen to keep out flies and mosquitoes. Well, Catty lifted up the lid, so to speak, and there was the leather case. It sure beat all. There it was, as big as life and three times as natural.
“Huh,” says Catty, “I dunno as we could find a better hiding place for it. Let’s leave it right there. It’ll be safe.”
“Fine,” says I, “and now that’s off our minds, what next?”
“We’ll go scouting,” says he.
“They say there’s fishing up the bay there,” says I.
“Good idea, we’ll scout and fish, too.”
So we put our tackle in the boat and rowed off. Rameses yelled at us to be back at eight bells, or we wouldn’t eat, and we promised.
There were lots of little boats fussing around the harbor, motor boats and big Cape Cod cats that carried thirty or forty folks on fishing trips—summer visitors, mostly—and there were sailing dories, and everything you could think of. It didn’t look much like a desert place where you would think of finding treasure, but in spite of all the folks and the cottages and hotels, the treasure was there just the same. It was kind of funny to think about what was going on, and none of all the people around there a bit the wiser.
We pulled along till we got abreast of where the sailors had landed, and then we rowed in close.
“Let’s land and see what happens,” says I.