Then the whole story came out, and when she had heard it all Milly said positively, “I think Ben’s right. They’re planning to steal something from your island.”
“Hope they don’t take our cooking outfit,” said Tom.
“Or any of my fine old colonial furniture,” added Tuckerman.
“Oh, no,” scoffed David. “It’s the treasure they’re after.”
“Don’t you want to take our watch-dog back with you?” said Sarah. “He’s fine at biting tramps.”
There was a laugh from the crowd. And they were still talking of ways of protecting the island from prowlers when the sailboat ran up to the wharf.
The campers escorted the girls to their homes and then went back to the harbor.
On the waterfront they encountered a man—he had been a sea-captain in his day—smoking a pipe and regarding the lights of the harbor. He knew the boys. “Hello, Tom,” he said, “I hear you’re out on the island, hunting for Sir Peter’s treasure.”
“Well, we’re camping on the island,” Tom admitted.
“Haven’t found the treasure yet, have you?” The mariner chuckled. “There’s treasure hid all along the coast, if you believe the stories. I was brought up on yarns about treasures, Captain Kidd’s and others. And I’ve hunted for ’em, too. But I never laid my hands on none. Howsomever, I always thought there might be something to the story about Sir Peter. But it’s one thing to think there’s a treasure, and another to lay hands on it.”