Hal leaned on the pick and viewed him reproachfully. “Bee, you don’t really mean that you’re going to dig another one of these ditches?” he asked.
“Of course; probably three more—unless we find the treasure first.”
“Find the treasure!” growled Hal. “I’ll bet you anything there isn’t any treasure here and never was! And if you think that I’m going to waste my young life swinging a silly old pick and having sunstroke you’ve got another guess! Besides, I can feel the blisters coming.”
“You knock off,” said Jack. “I’ll get this a little deeper and then maybe the boss will let us quit until it’s cooler.”
“It is pretty hot,” acknowledged Bee. “We might wait until after dinner.”
Hal stuck the end of the pick into the sod with a vicious blow and climbed out of the trench. “I’ve quit,” he announced disgustedly. “Come on, Jack.”
“Has the whistle blown?” laughed Jack. “You go ahead and get cooled off. I’m not tired. I’ll get this a little deeper and be with you in a few minutes.”
Hal went off grumbling to the tent and Bee seized the pick and tried to wield it. But the bandage on his hand interfered sadly. He kept going, however, until Jack decided to quit.
“There, that’s down pretty near two feet,” said Jack. “Now we’ll take a rest and then get some dinner. Come on. If you insist on using that hand, Bee, you’ll have it so sore you won’t be able to move it. You leave the digging to Hal and me today. After all, we’ve got plenty of time, I guess. No use trying to do it all today.”
They found Hal stretched out on his blankets in the tent.