Three heads popped above the ridge. Jerry was almost out of sight in his excavation. As the boys held their laughter, the form of the treasure seeker suddenly hurled his shovel from the hole. Then the active Jerry sprang out, caught up his candle and rolled into the excavation again.
“Somethin’ doin’,” remarked Captain Joe, in a little bolder voice, as Bob, Tom and Hal eagerly rose to their knees.
“He’s tired,” exclaimed Bob, in an excited whisper. “Get ready.”
Quickly drawing his revolver, Tom caught up his sheet and Hal thrust the conch shell to his lips. As the pandemonium rang out, and Tom sprang up with his ghostly sheet, Jerry rolled out of the hole. A piercing cry of alarm rose from the colored boy, and with one wild look behind, he fled toward the beach. Again a pistol shot rang out, and Hal sounded a wail on the conch. “I’m Black Pirate’s ghost,” yelled Tom, starting forward.
“Let him go,” shouted Bob, laughing, “he’s got enough.”
“He got something,” broke in Captain Joe. “He fine something.”
“Got something?” repeated Bob.
“He got something he found,” added Captain Joe. “Ain’t no lemon, neither,” he concluded, dryly.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Hal, lowering his conch shell, said in a peculiar voice:
“Do you reckon we’ve been horned?”