When Roy insisted that his companions postpone the work until after supper lest the “compound” should be spoiled by getting cold, they had set out only seventeen piles, in each of which was $100, and the main portion of the coins seemed nearly as large as ever.
“There is more than twice that amount in the lot,” Vance said as with a sigh of regret he ceased his very pleasing occupation of handling the money long enough to eat, “and it was a lucky day for you when the captain of the Evening Star decided to scuttle her.”
“It seems so,” Ned said just a trifle doubtfully; “but both the money and I are here on a key which doesn’t appear to be in the track of sailing vessels, and it is a very serious question whether the silver will do us much good.”
“We’re bound to get away some time,” Vance replied in a positive tone. “We must be somewhere off the coast of Florida, and I don’t believe we can stay such a very long while without being discovered.”
“What do you call a long while?” Ned asked.
“Two or three months.”
“Suppose a year should roll around, and we were still in this place?”
“Before then I should advocate trusting ourselves to a raft.”
“Built out of what?”
“There is plenty of stuff. We could cut down trees enough to make a famous craft, with what might be taken from the yacht.”