“I suppose we should do something about it,” Marjorie said lazily. “But it’s been so hot I hate the thought of digging. Helping Pat hoe up his potatoes was about all I could stand.”
“I’ve still got some blisters,” Judy said with a grin.
Marjorie raised herself on one elbow and squinted up toward the Lodge. “Penny and Phil don’t think there’s any treasure buried around here any more than there was a ghost haunting the place.”
“I know they don’t,” Judy said. “But Jimmy, Alf and Brook do. They’ve been acting very mysteriously ever since we got here. They sneak off early in the morning with shovels and things, and I’m sure they don’t spend all their time fixing up their shack.”
“I know,” Marjorie said thoughtfully. “And it would be simply awful if the boys found the treasure, not us.” She scrambled to her feet. “We’ve got to find it first. Let’s get out of these wet bathing suits before we do anything else. While we’re changing into dungarees we can decide where the best place to start digging is.”
Ten minutes later the girls left the Lodge by the back door and, armed with shovels, went down to the clearing.
“Oh, golly,” Marjorie moaned. “I thought this would be a swell place to dig because there’s no grass on the ground here. But just look. There’s the wash hanging out on the line to dry. Mr. Taggart must have just brought it back from the laundry-mat.”
“Just our luck,” Judy complained. “We’d better not dig anywhere near it. We’d be sure to raise clouds of dust. It hasn’t rained in ages.”
“I tell you what let’s do instead,” Marjorie suggested. “Let’s go help the boys with their shack. They promised to let us work on it, too. Once it’s finished maybe they’ll go off on that camping trip with Pat. Then we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”