ression.

"I'll tell you," he burst out. "It's a thing I've never told any one
else. But you fellows have been so white to me, to say nothing of one of
you having risked his life for mine, that I'm going to take a chance.
Perhaps it will be a relief anyway. Brooding over it so long and not
confiding in any one, I've been afraid some time I might go crazy over
it."

The boys were startled, but they gave no sign and the speaker went on:

"My name is Ross Montgomery. I'm looking for a chest of gold."

The effect was electric. The thrilling phrase appealed to all that was
most romantic in the listeners. Visions floated before their eyes of
hidden treasures, of pirate hoards, of sunken galleons with their
doubloons and "pieces of eight." These things had seemed to belong to
the misty past, to distant seas. Yet here in the prosaic twentieth
century, in a civilized country, on a quiet beach along the coast of
Maine, this boy of their own age was talking of a quest that might well
stir the most sluggish blood.

"A chest of gold!" repeated Fred, as though he could not believe his
ears.

"Where do you think it's hidden?" questioned Teddy eagerly.

"How much money is in the chest?" asked Bill.

"Perhaps it isn't money," corrected Lester. "It may be gold dust, or it
may be in bars. Have you any clue?" he asked, turning to Ross.

"What makes you think it's on this coast?" put in Fred.

Ross raised his hand good-naturedly, as though to ward off the rain of
questions.

"Easy there," he smiled, "and I'll tell you the whole thing from the
beginning. Perhaps you'll think I'm crazy. Perhaps you'll say I have as
good a chance of finding it as the fellow who looks for the pot of gold
at the end of the rainbow. And you may be right. Anyway, I'll give you
what facts I know, and you can figure out for yourselves whether I have
a chance or not."

Ross waited a moment to collect his thoughts, and the other boys
disposed themselves to listen. Their blood was bounding and their eyes
shining. The situation was romantic in itself. The firelight played over
their eager faces, the waters of the cove lay shimmering before them,
while, at the outlet, the surf thundered against the rocks. The boys
might have been castaways on some desert island in the tropics. The
great world outside seemed very far away.

"My father was in business in Boston about fifteen years ago," Ross
began. "I was just a baby then, and, of course, I don't know anyth