've had a real sociable time, I assure you! One of those kind of times
when every way you turn a still more hideous object confronts you; a fit
of the jims minus the fun that goes before it. The first night I was so
scared I didn't sleep a wink, and the spooks were so thick I dared not
turn around for fear of seeing a new one. Your island deserves all that
has been said of it, and a good deal more. I've found what's better than
ghosts, however!"

When Frank had followed his friend over into "The Pocket," and saw what
he had found and heard the marvelous story, he gasped for breath.

"So that is what became of the little Jew smuggler, is it?" he said when
he saw the pistol; "and the story was true after all! My stars! but you
are in luck," he continued, as he looked at the stacks of coin; and
then, slapping Manson on the back, hilariously exclaimed: "Ghost hunting
pays once in a while, old fellow, don't it? Now you can get married and
come down here and stay all next summer, can't you?"

Then the two friends, happy as children escaped from school, returned to
the sloop, and after half-starved Manson had eaten as he never did
before, they all three went ashore and visited the cave.

"As near as I can recall the story," said Frank, when they stood looking
at the skeletons, "there was an Indian who acted as helper for the Jew,
and this tall fellow with the horrible grin may have been that poor
fellow. Most likely they got into a quarrel over the money, and fought
it out to the death. Great Scott! but what a grim duel that must have
been here in this dark cavern!"

When they had looked the cave all over, they carried Manson's strangely
found fortune aboard the sloop, and sailed for home. Two days later he
bade adieu to his friend and departed two weeks sooner than he had
planned, but not until he had made a solemn promise to return the next
summer and bring a companion.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CONCLUSION.

The maples in front of Liddy's home were just showing the first tints of
autumn color when Manson returned. It had been a long three weeks of
separation to her, and her first words contained a note of reproach.

"You might have written me once or twice, Charlie," she said; "the days
have seemed so long!"

"I could not," he replied; "I was lost to the world on an island twenty
miles from a post office, and letters were not in style there. The
people are so far removed from the world they do not seem to think
co