“That sea don’t look ugly, do it?” she continued, pointing at the ocean, “but it is—there’s rocks out there where the ships split on, then they go all to pieces, and the things come ashore.”
“And what becomes of all the things, Matt?”
“Some of ’em’s stole and some of ’em’s took by the coastguards. They do say,” she added, mysteriously, “as there’s lots o’ things—gold and silver—hid among them sand-hills. Before the coastguards come all the folk was wreckers like William Jones, and they used to get what come ashore, and they used to hide it in the sand-hills.”
“Indeed! Then if that is the case, why don’t they take the treasure up, and turn it into money?”
“Why? ’Cause they can’t; them sandhills is allus changing and shifting about, they are; though they know well enough the things is there, there’s no findin’ of ’em!”
“I always thought William Jones was poor?”
“So he is, he says!” replied Matt, “’cause though he be allus foraging, he don’t find much now on account o’ them coastguard chaps.”
After they had rested themselves, they went a little further up the cliff, then they followed a narrow winding path, which brought them to the shore below. Here Matt, who seemed to be pretty well grounded in the history of the place, pointed him out the wonders of the coast.
She showed him the caves, which tradition said had been formerly used as wreckers’ haunts and treasure stores, but which were now washed by the sea, and covered with slimy weeds; then she brought him to a promontory where they told her she herself had been found. This spot Brinkley examined curiously, then he looked at the girl.
“I suppose you had clothes on when you came ashore, didn’t you, Matt?”