“See what they’re doing?”
“Not very clear,” says I.
He scowled at me a second. “They’re setting posts,” says he, “all around that part of the beach where there’s any chance of the treasure being, and they’re going to put a barb wire fence around it.”
“Sufferin’ mackerel!” says I, “that cooks our goose.”
“It’s a mighty slick idea,” says Catty, “but folks have got through barb wire before this.”
“But they tore their pants,” says I.
CHAPTER XII
“The worst of it is,” says Catty, “it’s all our fault.”
“How so?” says I.
“That chart, of course. They’d never have known where to dig if I hadn’t fixed up that chart and wished it on Mr. House. Of course there was rotten luck in it. We thought we were sending them off on a wild-goose chase—and however we came to hit on the very spot where the treasure’s buried, I can’t see. But we did, and there they are, and we’ve done it.”