“A clue to the location of the treasure. Come on, please!”
They went, Hal mumbling that for his part he couldn’t tell an apple-tree from a hat-tree. But Jack had more acquaintance with the subject and only had to look once at the tree to reach a decision.
“It’s an apple-tree,” he declared.
“Hurrah!” said Bee.
“Tiger!” added Hal. “But what difference does it make whether it’s an apple tree or a pear tree or a—or a cauliflower?”
“None.”
“Then what’s all the shouting about? Why do we have to leave our perfectly good beds and streak down here in the sun with the thermometer at a thousand and twenty and look at a silly old tree? Hey?”
“Come back into the shade and I’ll tell you,” replied Bee with a laugh at his chum’s disgust. “It’s like this,” he continued when they were in the lee of the tent. “If that’s an apple-tree it’s pretty certain that it didn’t grow there by accident; I mean without—er—human agency. Either it was planted or an apple core was tossed there or a seed was dropped. How old should you say that tree was, Jack?”
“Oh, I don’t know; six years, ten years. It’s hard to say, Bee, because a tree in an exposed place like this grows very slowly. There’s a cedar near the old fort that they say is eighty-odd years old and it’s only about twelve feet high and the trunk is twisted around and around like a huge big rope.”
“Well, say eight years?”