“Don’t spoil everything now by making a noise until he finds it,” suggested Tom. “And then give him time to see what he has. Then I guess we’ll cure him of pirates and treasure and lying.”
Then something happened. By the time the colored boy reached the trees, he had forgotten how his own fabrication had started the search. The paper in his pocket began to have a real significance, and, when he arrived at the scene of his search, his simple reason deserted him. He was on an actual, real quest for buried pirate gold. The Black Pirate had suddenly become real.
Jerry’s plan of action had been suggested by the boys. To get his fifty paces in line with the two trees, he stationed his lantern behind the trees and then, his shovel held like a weapon, he was seen to emerge from the shadows of the oaks. In the full moonlight, he was coming forward, with long, precise strides, glancing backwards from time to time to see that he kept the lantern out of his line of vision, by which he knew that his progress was straight to the east. He had advanced but a dozen or so full strides when Hal whispered excitedly:
“He’s steppin’ twice as far as I did. He’ll pass the box!”
What was to be done? Nothing—unless the boys revealed their presence.
“If he misses it, we’ll send him out again,” whispered Tom.
“Let him dig awhile, anyway,” suggested Bob, in a low voice. “Then we’ll give him a scare, if part of the joke is on us.”
“I should say not,” hastily added Hal. “He’s got to find that lemon, or—”
But he had to stop. The long-strided Jerry was too close for further talking.