"Oh, no, I wouldn't! Besides, what can I tell? And I can't even guess who you are because you see I don't know anyone in Freedom."
"I'm Davy Hopworth."
"Of course, I remember,—" But Nancy stopped short for what she remembered was how Webb had called them the "no-good Hopworths."
"And that there's my club," finished Davy, gravely. "Only the other fellers couldn't sneak away today."
"I—understand," Nancy nodded, hugging her knees with her arms. "What a jolly place to meet. It's so—so secret."
Davy grinned. "You bet. That's a pirate's cove. I guess mebbe there's a treasure buried there. All us boys knows where to get down, too."
"I'm so glad you let me know your secret! I won't tell a soul! I think your club's very jolly, too."
Davy, won by Nancy's disarming friendliness, produced from a ragged pocket a dirty piece of paper and handed it to her.
"Them's the Rules," he said, briefly.
At the top was printed "Cove Culb." And below were the rules: 1. No swaring. 2. No back talk. 3. No smokin nothin. 4. No lis. 5. No steling birds eggs. 6. No hurtin dume anmals. 7. Eviry boys goter no how to swim and lick eviry boy thats an enmy to the culb. 8. To kil pirats. 9. To fite for ar contry.