ere once seven pirates swung in
chains; the CLYDE was on her way to Hayti where the buccaneers came
from; the MORRO CASTLE was bound for Havana, which Morgan, king of all
the pirates, had once made his own; and the RED D was steaming to Porto
Cabello where Sir Francis Drake, as big a buccaneer as any of them, lies
entombed in her harbor. And I was setting forth on a buried-treasure
expedition on a snub-nosed, flat-bellied, fresh-water ferry-boat, bound
for Jersey City! No one will ever know my sense of humiliation. And,
when the Italian boy insulted my immaculate tan shoes by pointing at
them and saying, "Shine?" I could have slain him. Fancy digging for
buried treasure in freshly varnished boots! But Edgar did not mind.
To him there was nothing lacking; it was just as it should be. He was
deeply engrossed in calculating how many offices were for rent in the
Singer Building!

When we reached the other side, he refused to answer any of my eager
questions. He would not let me know even for what place on the line he
had purchased our tickets, and, as a hint that I should not disturb him,
he stuffed into my hands the latest magazines. "At least tell me this,"
I demanded. "Have you ever been to this place before to-day?"

"Once," said Edgar shortly, "last week. That's when I found out I would
need some one with me who could dig."

"How do you know it's the RIGHT place?" I whispered.

The summer season was over, and of the chair car we were the only
occupants; but, before he answered, Edgar looked cautiously round him
and out of the window. We had just passed Red Bank.

"Because the map told me," he answered. "Suppose," he continued
fretfully, "you had a map of New York City with the streets marked on it
plainly? Suppose the map said that if you walked to where Broadway and
Fifth Avenue meet, you would find the Flatiron Building. Do you think
you could find it?"

"Was it as easy as THAT?" I gasped.

"It was as easy as THAT!" said Edgar.

I sank back into my chair and let the magazines slide to the floor. What
fiction story was there in any one of them so enthralling as the actual
possibilities that lay before me? In two hours I might be bending over a
pot of gold, a sea chest stuffed with pearls and rubies!

I began to recall all the stories I had heard as a boy of treasure
buried along the coast by Kidd on his return voyage from the Indies.
Where along the Jersey sea-line were there safe harbors? The train
on whic