"And we're going to-day."
"Now," said Hugh.
"And expect me to risk it," laughed Bert. "Well, let's go. I'll back there'll be no man to greet us. A few jackdaws perhaps, an odd crow too. But a man with a knife, never!"
The conversation having come to an end amicably, Clive dived in at the back door of his mother's establishment, where with wonderful persuasive powers, often practised it must be confessed, he managed to induce the cook to supply three bundles of provisions.
"It'll save coming back for lunch, you chaps," he told them on his reappearance. "We shall have lots of time to explore. Supposing we found something."
"Buried gold and jewels," cried Hugh, his eyes bulging.
"Might happen," admitted the practical Bert. "There are lots of tales of hidden wealth, and some of it gets discovered. There's a yarn about this very tower."
"Gospel?" asked Clive with a jerk.
"True as possible. Place attacked some time in the old days. Rich old bounder in charge. Saw he hadn't a chance, and so dug a hole somewhere and buried his valuables. Supposing we came upon the spot. They say in the village that attempts have been made. Once a bangle was discovered. Then one of the searchers fell into a well and that put an end to the business. It was supposed to be haunted then, and the tale still holds. Lights have even been seen flitting about during the night."
"And there's a tale of buried treasure?" asked Hugh eagerly.