“Well, no,” said Mr. Muller, “I haven’t yet. There has been no time. And I am sure there is no hurry about that wreck. It has been in the mud a long time, and it will wait there till we want it.”
“No, it won’t,” cried Chap. “No, it won’t. There isn’t a night but I tremble for that wreck. That French boy knows all about it, and you can’t tell when he and his father will come up the river in a boat, with divers and submarine armor, and they’ll have a hole cut in the side of that ship, and all the treasure-boxes taken out, before we know a thing about it.”
“That would be bad, indeed,” said Mr. Muller, “but I don’t see how it is to be prevented, unless a guard is kept up on the river-bank.”
“Prevented!” cried Chap. “The way to prevent their doing it is to do it ourselves—slam-bang! without waiting a minute longer than we can help.”
Mr. Muller did not know what reply to make to his enthusiastic companion.
“Suppose we go and look at this wreck,” he said, after a moment’s thought.
This suited Chap exactly, and without further ado the two proceeded to the river-bank. The tide was not very low, and only the extreme ends of the exposed ribs of the treasure-ship could be seen.
“She is pretty well covered up,” remarked Mr. Muller.
“You can see more of her at low tide,” said Chap, “but we don’t care anything about that part of the ship. That is the bow, and most likely there is nothing in it but sailors’ clothes and such stuff.”
“Which would be dreadfully old-fashioned now,” remarked Mr. Muller.