Instantly all save the treasure was forgotten. The heat, approaching night, the trouble and labor that had been theirs, all was forgotten in their one desire to roll away the stone.
For a time all went well. A dozen smaller stones were sent tumbling down the sloping pile. The monkey, who had left his retreat, chattered encouragement from a nearby treetop. When at last they came to the key stone they found, to their consternation, that their combined strength could not move it. Three times they attempted it. Then panting and perspiring, with sore hands and heavy hearts, they sat down to think.
“If only we had brought old Pompee with us,” said Dot.
“I am so hungry I could eat anything,” said Doris.
“Tell you what,” said Dot, who was a hard loser. “We’ll have one more try at that big stone. There’s a stout lignumvitae pole over there. It’s dreadfully heavy, heaviest wood in the world, but we can handle it. We’ll get one end under the stone, then use it as a pry.”
Wearily the girls climbed down to tug away at the pole. Up it went and into place. Then presto! Down it came and up came the stone.
“Grand!” said Dot. “Now you sit on the end of the pole and I’ll have a look.”
“Hurrah!” she shouted a moment later. “Here is a hole, a regular grotto, and I see something shining down there. We’ve found the chest of gold. You just sit tight where you are on the pole and I’ll go down. Don’t move though or you might drop the stone on me.”
Down she went. The place she entered was not over three feet across. It had jagged edges and led down to what had once been a solid floor, some eight feet below.
“Fine! I’m down!” Doris heard her say. “And here’s a chest of secrets!”