“That’s right,” Judy agreed. “If they caught us digging, they’d be sure to make fun of us. They pretend that we’re silly to believe that there’s treasure buried around here, but I happen to know that they believe in it too.”
When they arrived at the shack, the girls’ offer of help was promptly turned down.
“Help!” Alf hooted. “Judy, you don’t know which end of a hammer is the head.”
“Neither does Marjorie,” added Jimmy with a teasing grin. “Scram, you two. We men have work to do.”
“But you promised,” Marjorie reminded him crossly.
Jimmy waved her away. “Later, child, later. Right now we’re too busy to teach you the rudiments of carpentry.”
So Judy and Marjorie wandered forlornly off and returned to the clearing where they had left their shovels. After that they spent a few hours every day aimlessly digging here and there for buried treasure. But it was tiresome work and since they knew the holes had to be filled up, they never dug very deep or very long at any one spot.
“This is hopeless,” Judy said one day toward the end of July. “What we ought to look for are clues. Maps and things pirates may have left around which will tell us exactly where to dig.”
“I don’t think there were ever any pirates around here,” Marjorie said dubiously. “Didn’t they always stick pretty close to the seacoasts?”
“I guess you’re right,” Judy said disconsolately. “But whoever buried the treasure should have left some clues or directions.”