"Where is it?" asked Locke.
"Thar's lots as would like to know, sir," said Dinshaw, gravely. "But I ain't in the way o' tellin', not until I can see my way clear to go myself."
"It is near the mainland of Luzon?" asked Trask.
Dinshaw turned quickly and peered at him suspiciously, pursing his lips.
"It is," he said, finally.
"I don't see any other land in the picture," ventured Trask, scanning the canvas with more care.
"Ye bet ye don't!" snapped Dinshaw, with sudden asperity. "I left that out so they can't find it. Lots as would like to find Dinshaw's island, young man, but I'm savin' it for myself. Jarrow said he'd take me, but he never did. He wants to go steal it himself. I know. I know. They can't fool me, if I am old."
"Steal your island?" asked Marjorie. "Why, how could anybody steal an island?"
"What's on it?" whispered Dinshaw.
"Oh, ho," said Locke. "Then there's something on it, is there? Now we're interesting! Treasure, I suppose."