Jim ambled on, kicking asunder lumps of seaweed which might conceal treasure, stooping now and again to pick up and examine some find more closely, and so came to the bend in the coast out of sight of Carne.
And there he stopped suddenly, like a pointing dog.
Away along the shore, and as close in as the long shoal of the sands would permit, was a large fishing-smack. Between her and the beach a boat was plying, and when it grounded a string of men was rapidly passing its contents up into the sand-hills.
Jim guessed what that might mean. His ephemeral reading in books of adventure told him these must be smugglers, and he had unconsciously gathered from unknown sources the fact that out beyond there lay the isle of Man, a place given up to freebooters and such-like gentry, though he had never happened to come across any so near home before. A matter therefore to be cautiously inquired into on the most approved Fenimore Cooper lines.
So he slipped in among the sand-hills and threaded a devious path parallel with the sea, now and again crawling like a snake up a hummock, and peering through the wire-grass to ascertain his position and make sure that the boat had not gone off.. That was his only anxiety, that she would get away before he had the chance of a nearer view.
He was delighted with his adventure. Here was treasure-trove better than all the tantalising possibilities of the beach. Here was something real and new to set against Jack's musty, but still exciting, stories of old Greeks and Romans. He felt rich.
The short day was drawing in. The gray of the dusk was in his favour. He wriggled up a soft bank on his stomach, and found himself with a fair view of what was going on. He sank flat among the wire-grass and watched, and was Robinson Crusoe, and Deerslayer; and Chingachgook, and many others, all in one.
A growl of rough voices down below, the "slaithe" of spades in the soft sand, and he saw little barrels and neat little corded packages being rapidly buried, each in a little hole by itself, and evidently according to some recognised plan.
The boat had probably made another trip to the smack, for barrels and packages came pouring in and were deftly put out of sight. The light was so dim that he could not recognise any of the busy workers, and their occasional growls gave him no clue.
He was wondering vaguely who they might be, when a heavy hand descended on the back of his neck and lifted him up like a kicking rabbit.