“And while you’re about it,” said Croyden, “you might pray that we find the treasure—it would be quite as effective.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s four o’clock. Now, to resume where those rogues interrupted us. We had the jewels located, somewhere, within a radius of fifty feet. They must be, according to our theory, either on the bank or in the Bay. We can’t go at the water without a boat. Shall we tackle the land at once? or go to town and procure a boat, and be ready for either in the morning.”
“I have an idea,” said Macloud.
“Don’t let it go to waste, old man, let’s have it!” Croyden encouraged.
“If you can give up hearing yourself talk, for a moment, I’ll try!” laughed Macloud. “It is conceded, I believe, that digging on the Point by day may, probably will, provoke comment and possibly investigation as well. My idea is this. Do no work by day. Then as soon as dusky Night has drawn her robes about her——” 171
“Oh, Lord!” ejaculated Croyden, with upraised hands.
“Then, as soon as dusky Night has drawn her robes about her,” Macloud repeated, imperturbably, “we set to work, by the light of the silvery moon. We arouse no comment—provoke no investigation. When morning dawns, the sands are undisturbed, and we are sleeping as peacefully as guinea pigs.”
“And if there isn’t a moon, we will set to work by the light of the silvery lantern, I reckon!” said Croyden.
“And, when we tackle the water, it will be in a silver boat and with silver cuirasses and silver helmets, à la Lohengrin.”
“And I suppose, our swan-song will be played on silver flutes!” laughed Croyden.
“There won’t be a swan-song—we’re going to find Parmenter’s treasure,” said Macloud.