“Dig some more,” he advised War. “Be careful though.”
“Ken ought to be here,” Willie remarked, gazing toward the cemetery road. “Shall I call him?”
“Go ahead,” Jack nodded. “I think we’ve hit the treasure or whatever it is.”
Willie wet his fingers and blew two shrill blasts. Promptly, an answer was received. A few minutes later, Ken came running up.
“Find anything?” he demanded breathlessly.
By this time, War had removed more dirt. “An iron kettle,” he reported, resting for a moment on his spade. “Loaded to the brim with emeralds!”
“You’ve been thinking of emeralds ever since that one came for Mr. Livingston!” Ken laughed. “What is in the kettle?”
“We don’t know yet,” War admitted. “Being nice guys, we waited for you before we peeked.”
“Let’s not wait any longer,” Jack urged impatiently. “Remember, we have no guard now, and time’s slipping by pretty fast.”
“Yeah,” agreed Willie. “The owner of this little kettle may come back. So let’s lift ’er out.”