“I can’t see how that could be,” replied Vivian. “All that must have happened years ago. No one could live undiscovered on this island all that time—not even if he chose to.”
“And yet—” Jeanne did not finish. Her thoughts at that moment were for herself alone.
“But think, Jeanne!” Vivian exclaimed. “‘Some considerable treasure.’ That’s what we read in that note. Think back over the history of our island. Lake pirates are believed to have hidden away in our long, narrow harbors. Of course, that was years and years ago. But think of the ancient gold and silver plate, the jewels they may have hidden here!
“But then—” she sighed a happy sigh of anticipation. “It may not have been that at all. This island is only sixteen miles from Canada. Think what a hiding place it must have been when smugglers were chased by revenue cutters!”
“What did they smuggle?” Jeanne asked absent-mindedly.
“Silks, woolens, drugs, opium, uncut diamonds and—oh, lots of things.”
“Silks would rot. Who wants opium? I’m not sure I could tell an uncut diamond from a pebble.” Jeanne laughed in spite of herself.
“Well, anyway,” Vivian exclaimed, “here’s the highest spot! Now we go down.”
“But how?” Jeanne looked with dismay upon the sheer wall of rock beneath her.
“This way.” Vivian gripped the out-growing root of a tree, swung into space, tucked her toe into a crevice, caught at a sapling clinging to the rocky wall, found a narrow shelf, then dropped again.