“Open it, Bill!” cried Jerry. “We’ll show Tinny what’s inside. Open it!”
“’Twon’t be much of a job,” the old miner cried, as he poised a sharp rock. “It’s pretty rotten, that wood. A wonder it held together as long as it did.”
With all his force Cromley brought the stone down on top of the chest, which was of wood, strengthened with bands and strips of iron. The lid was secured by two heavy padlocks, and though they were much rusted they might have resisted the efforts of the treasure-hunters for some time, as they had no tools to work with. The miner’s plan was the only feasible one.
With a crash the stone struck the top of the wooden lid, and the old miner’s guess as to the rottenness of the wood was well founded, for his stone went half way through.
A cloud of dust from the punky, rotten wood arose in the sunlight. Cromley put his hands in the hole made by the stone and pulled up the jagged pieces of wood. They were so rotted away that there were no splinters. In another instant the interior of the chest was revealed.
The eyes of the Motor Boys, as well as those of Tinny and the old man, rested on several canvas sacks arranged in layers and tiers inside the box.
“It looks like treasure, all right!” shouted Bob.
“I’m beginning to believe so myself!” admitted Tinny.
The old miner lifted out one of the sacks. It was in good condition, the canvas not having rotted away. Around the neck of the bag, as around the neck of all the bags in the chest, was a thong secured by sealing wax. This Cromley chipped away. Then he cut the thong and unwound it. Thrusting in his hand he withdrew it, and, resting on his palm, glowing in the sunlight, was a mass of gold dust!
“We’ve found it!” yelled Bob, dancing about.