"Why is this called Dollar Cove, sir?" asked Basil Armstrong.
"They say a Spanish treasure ship was wrecked on the west side of Seal Island, and that her precious cargo was strewn over the bottom of the sea. Curiously enough the only coins ever washed ashore have been found at the mouth of this cove."
"Should we find any if we looked, sir?" asked Fraser.
"That I cannot say; but suppose instead of standing here in the cold we launch this boat?"
Soon the placid waters of the bathing-cove were disturbed by the splashing of the lads of the two patrols, and all were somewhat reluctant to hear Mr Trematon's voice calling for them to come and dress.
When the Scoutmaster and the Headers had had their swim the Scouts made their way to the top of the natural staircase, and, doubling, returned to the camp glowing with health and excitement.
Directly the bedding was replaced and the tents tidied, breakfast was served. The camp oven fires had been banked up, and a plentiful supply of hot water was instantly available. Eggs, boiled in salt water,—which, according to Mr Trematon's idea, were far more appetising than if done in fresh water—small flat loaves baked on hot ashes, and cocoa formed the repast.
"Whatever is the matter with you, Hayes?" asked Mr Trematon as the Scout gave a partly suppressed gurgle, rolled his eyes, and clutched his throat with both hands.
Without replying Hayes suddenly bolted, while the Scoutmaster and several of the Scouts followed to see what was amiss.
"The bread, sir," gasped Hayes, after several attempts to make him explain.