Breakfast! Magic word after a swim in the ocean! The boys jumped into their clothes and set to work. For the next half-hour the thoughts of all the campers were centred on food.
But as soon as his plate was cleared Ben began to consider another matter. He quoted lines to himself, “I took the box to the north cliff.... I hid it in the pocket in the rocks. There are two veins that make a mark like a cross.” Very good; that was plain. And as soon as the after-breakfast chores were done he said, rather self-consciously, “I know where there’s a pool full of cunners,” and picking up his fishing-rod and tackle, he hurried into the woods.
He looked back over his shoulder once or twice, but no one was following him. Through the thickets, dappled with sunshine, he went at a brisk trot. This brought him out on the north shore, where the high rocks towered above the beach like a line of battlements. He swung himself over a cliff and dropped lightly on to the sand. Leaving his fishing-rod in a convenient place where he could pick it up quickly if anyone came by, he began his search.
There were crevices in the rocks, and each of these had to be explored. Bushes and trailing vines, growing from little footholds, covered the seaward surface of many of the cliffs. But Ben, thrilled with the sense of exploration, and persevering by nature, stuck to his task, and was rewarded at last by finding what he sought, two veins of a light yellow color that made the distinct mark of a cross.
“That’s it!” he muttered, excited. “And, by Jove, there’s the pocket!”
Down on his knees he went, and thrust his head into an opening. He pushed himself forward by digging his toes in the sand. And soon his outstretched hand touched a large chest, he felt metal bands about it, he pushed it, but it was wedged in tight.
Presently he pulled himself out, stood up, and considered the situation. He had found the box that James Sampson had hid in the rocks. His first thought was what a tremendously strong man Sampson must have been to carry such a chest all the way from Cotterell Hall to this north shore. However, Sampson might not have carried it; he might have brought it in a cart or by some other means. And his next thought was, how could Benjamin Sully get that chest out of the pocket.
That took a good deal of thinking, and he sat down and considered it from various angles.
Into his brown study two voices from somewhere back of him made interruption abruptly.
“He’s fishing for cunners on the dry sand! First time I ever saw that done. He just coaxes ’em out of the water.”