“He didn’t.”
“How do you know he didn’t?” demanded Bee anxiously.
“Because I could read the date on it, even if it was worn almost off. It was 1884. That’s less than thirty years ago, and Old Verny hid his treasure—if he did hide any—more than ten years before that.”
“Are you sure about the date?” asked Bee, crestfallen.
“Ab-so-lutely, old Bee. It was plain as the nose on your face if you held the coin right. I don’t see what he wanted to lie for, though.”
“Then you don’t think he ever saw Old Verny or ever dug here?”
“He may have,” said Jack. “I didn’t see the date on the shilling, but he probably thought he’d have a joke on us. Anyhow, he didn’t seem to remember where the cabin stood, and if he knew Old Verny—Big Verny, he called him—you’d think he’d remember where the old pirate lived.”
“He’s a fakir,” said Hal with decision. “And I’m going to sleep with my revolver under my head tonight. Gee, he may come around here and murder us for our clothes! He wouldn’t get much else, I guess.”
“Oh, I guess he’s a harmless old duffer,” rejoined Jack carelessly. “And I dare say we shan’t see him again. Now, what about going out to The Tombstones? Recovered from those flap-jacks yet?”