“The buttercup lot! That must be Mr. Denby’s pasture near the bramble patch. Why, Rod was away off! He was in the wrong lot!”
“That’s right!” exclaimed Bob. “I think this gives us the secret of the treasure.”
They looked again at the message as revealed by the cut-out key. There was no doubt as to its meaning. Hank Denby had adopted a very simple form of cipher, yet one almost impossible to solve if one hasn’t the key-paper. He had put in several points of the compass, and a number of measurements in his queer message and one might have dug for a long time without hitting on the right spot. But now it was easy.
“So that’s why he didn’t want me to destroy the envelope!” murmured Hiram, as he saw to what use it could be put. “Well, I’m glad I saved it all these years. Oh, he was a cute one, Hank was!”
“Do you think he planned it all this way?” asked Ned.
“He must have,” asserted Bob.
“It was leaving a good deal to chance,” was Harry’s opinion. “Just supposing Hiram hadn’t saved that envelope?”
“In that case we’d be out of luck,” Bob said. “But I think Mr. Denby must have known Hiram would save the key to the cipher. If he hadn’t thought that he’d have made up some other way of letting it be known where the treasure was buried.”
“Maybe it’s all a joke,” murmured Ned. “I mean, maybe there isn’t any treasure buried after all. How’ll we know?”
“Well, let’s get busy!” suggested Bob. “Let’s see if the story of the cipher is borne out. Let’s dig for the treasure!”