“The cave runs downward,” she said; and she waited for the meaning of her words to penetrate his consciousness. They did so, presently.
“Oh, the cave runs downward,” he repeated, thoughtfully. “I begin to understand.”
Margaret met his gaze frankly, and nodded assent to the idea that had arisen in his mind.
“Yes,” she went on, “the cave is really larger than you might fancy from the size of the island, and the passage slopes downward, though not very steeply. We didn’t go far. I don’t know the length of it. Cousin Horace didn’t know—then. In the cave, there are plenty of places where the gold could have been hidden. So, I thought I’d tell you.”
“Bless your dear heart!” Saxe cried. “I believe you’ve saved the day for us. The chances are, we’d never have got to searching the island even, without your help.”
“You might have missed the cave, if you had gone over the island,” Margaret said. “It isn’t at all easy to find, I can tell you. I don’t know how my cousin happened on it. He told me that, as far as he knew, there was no one else aware of its existence.”
A great volume of sound shattered the air. The two turned toward the boat-house, and saw Billy Walker, who made an imperative gesture, and shouted again:
“All ready! Hurry along!”
But, as Saxe turned to the girl, to say good-bye, she stayed him.
“Wait!” she commanded. “I don’t wish the others to know—yet. You see, it might come to nothing, after all. How would it do, if I were to go with you in the canoe? Then we could land on the island, and investigate, and afterward, if you found things promising, you could tell the others. What do you think?”