"Then you needn't wait another minute," cried the old sailor, who was nearly as excited as the boys. "Get your spade an' we'll start right in."
"We haven't got one," confessed Charley, suddenly crestfallen. "What a fool I was not to think of that."
"Golly, I reckon dis nigger goin' to fix up somethin' to dig with mighty quick," cried Chris, whose eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
Running down to the canoe, the little darkey was back in a moment with one of the paddles. "Reckon dis will do," he said, "got to be mighty careful not to break it, though."
Armed with the implement, which Chris' thoughtfulness had provided, they lost no time in making their way to the lone palm.
The next perplexing question was on which side of the tree to dig.
"It's as likely to be on one side as the other," Charley declared. "We might as well start in at random and dig a circle around the tree until we come to it."
The others had no better plan to suggest, and Walter, seizing the paddle, began to throw the dirt away. Luckily the soil was not packed hard, for even, loose as it was, progress was very slow with the rude implement he was wielding. At the end of an hour, he was content to surrender the paddle to the captain, who, when tired, turned it over to Chris.
It was slow work and the sun was getting low in the west when the circle around the palm was at last completed, and the diggers stood looking at each other with disappointment written on their faces.
"We must go deeper," Charley declared, "I am certain that this is the right spot, and the chief would have had no interest in deceiving or misleading us."