“Well, we’ll dig at the tree first,” said Bee, “and then we’ll—er—radiate out from it.”
“I’m no silly radiator,” grumbled Hal. “Besides, I have blisters on my poor little paws.”
“Any more excuses?” laughed Bee.
“Well, I think we should have some fish for supper. Tell you what, you two; I’ll catch fish while you dig up the treasure. If I’m not here when you find it you won’t have to divide up with me; see? I’ll what-do-you-call-it-em-relinquish all claim to it, Bee. Do it for you in writing, if you like.”
“No one can read your writing,” responded Bee unkindly. “And, anyhow, you’re going to stay right here and swing a pick.”
When, finally, Bee’s impatience would brook no further delay and he gave the word to start work, the three descended to the scene of operations, shovels and pick in hand. Even Hal was slightly excited and plied his pick with a good will. The trunk of the old tree was uncovered and they found themselves digging through a veritable network of roots. It seemed as though the tree, unable to make its normal growth above ground, had determined to work off its natural energies below, for such a root-system as they encountered appeared quite out of proportion to the size of the tree. Bee ruled that the tree was not to be injured and was very indignant when Hal carelessly sent his pick squarely through a big root. Whereupon Hal declared that he didn’t pretend to be a fancy picker and that if Bee wasn’t satisfied with the way he was doing it he (Bee) could plaguey well do it himself!
It took them over an hour to prove to their satisfaction—and disappointment—that the treasure was not concealed within three feet in any direction from the tree. Then, their enthusiasm somewhat abated, they rested on their tools and considered what to do next. It was finally decided that they should dig a series of trenches up the slope, starting at the tree. Luckily there were few rocks thereabouts and the soil provided easier labor. They had just started on the first trench when Hal said:
“There’s Bill the Pirate down there, fellows.”
He was just swinging his dory up to the little wharf when they looked, and presently he appeared over the bank of the river with a bucket on his arm and headed toward them.