Frank rowed out to the motor boat and climbed wearily to the deck before attempting any reply. Then he handed a closely-tied oblong packet to Clay and dropped into a convenient chair.
“What’s that?” demanded the boys in a chorus. “The cargo!” smiled Frank.
Clay hastily untied the strings which secured the paper wrapping of the packet, disclosing a canvas bag, which gave forth a pleasant, tinkling sound as the boy bounced it up and down in his hand.
“What’s in it?” asked Jule. “Sounds like something you can turn into gasoline, all right.”
Frank replied with a motion for Clay to open the bag. He did so, and a roll of gold coins was exposed to view. Amazement, incredulity, joy, all showed on the faces of the boys, who now gathered closer about Clay and began fingering the coins, of which there were about two score.
“It is the real stuff!” Alex decided, turning his head critically.
“American twenty-dollar pieces!” gasped Case.
“Where in the name of all the seven seas did you get it?” asked Clay.
But the lads did not wait for Frank to reply. They seized him by the arms, the neck, the legs, and hustled him about, thumping him with their fists in the way boys have of expressing great appreciation. Even Captain Joe came out of the cabin and joined in the celebration.
“You just wait!” Alex shouted, when the excitement had in a measure died out—that is, when Frank was permitted to stand on his own feet again—“just you wait until I feed you up proper for this! There’s a tin of roast beef left that we’ve been saving for a joy-feast, and that is what you’re going to get for breakfast! And fish! And wild fowl! And dessert! And there’s a can of honey, and some sixty-cent coffee we’ve been hoarding! You just wait and I’ll show you a feed that will make your eyes stick out!”