I strongly doubt it myself!"

"Oh, I _can't_ believe she's not telling the truth about _that_!" cried
Leslie, thoroughly shocked. "Don't you believe anything about her any
more?"

"I don't know what I believe or don't believe--about _her_!" retorted
Phyllis. "And what's more, there's only one thing concerning her that I
_am_ interested in just now--whether she has discovered the answer to
that note left in there and when she--or any one else--is going to make
the attempt to unearth their treasure again!"

Phyllis had been as good as her word. On the morning after that night of
the fog, she had returned to her bungalow before breakfast, and had
reappeared later at Rest Haven with a mysterious bundle. When they had
both retired to Leslie's room she revealed its contents, a piece of
burlap, an exact duplicate of the one which contained the Dragon's
Secret, and an antimony jewel-case. Then they got down the original from
its dusty shelf, fashioned a bag, the exact size and shape of the one
Rags had unearthed, placed the jewel-case in it, and sewed it up. When
all was complete it would have been extremely difficult to tell the
original from its duplicate, so nearly alike did they seem.

Late that afternoon, while Ted and his father were far up the inlet, and
with the beach entirely deserted, they buried the false treasure-box in
the sand by the old log. Phyllis did the deed, while Leslie scouted the
beach in every direction, investigated every nook and corner that could
possibly conceal any one, and made absolutely certain that they were not
observed. And from that time on they had awaited results.

And to their certain knowledge, there had been none. Each day, at some
hour when there was least likelihood of any one being near, they had
examined the place, only to find the buried bag still in its
hiding-place, untouched. At night they had taken turns keeping watch, all
the night through; but no stealthy visitor had come to Curlew's Nest, nor
had there been any during the day--of that they were absolutely certain.
The beach had never seemed so free of visitors before.

And thus matters stood on the second afternoon, and they were beginning
to be impatient at inaction and delay. Then Phyllis had an idea.

"I know what's the matter!" she cried. "We're keeping too close a watch.
We don't give anybody a chance to come within gunshot of that place,
unobserved, so how can we expect that anything is going to happen? If
it's T