“O, two or three hundred, at least,” said Bruce; “perhaps more.”
“Well, for my part,” said Bart, “I believe that there’s money buried in some of them; and though our adventure was awfully ridiculous, yet that doesn’t alter the sober fact, and I think the general belief is right.”
“I go in for digging again,” said Phil. “I don’t believe in finding money, but we may find something.”
“Bones, for instance,” said Bruce.
“Yes, bones, if you like; and then we’d give them to the museum. Anything at all would be acceptable. It would take the edge off our disappointment of the other night.”
“There’s a great deal in that,” said Bruce.
“I don’t like giving it up altogether,” said Bart. “We’ve begun it—let’s finish it.”
“And there’s the hole,” said Tom, “inviting us to come along.”
“Besides,” said Bruce, “don’t you remember we struck something hard? and I know it wasn’t a stone.”
“No,” said Arthur; “that’s a fact,—all our shovels touched it. We all heard the dull, ringing sound it gave. It was metal. Let’s go to work, I say.”