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"Gas bombs," says Rupert. "To clear out the snakes." "Careful with 'em," growls Old Hickory. "What else?" "A few canvas bags for for the treasure, sir," says Rupert, duckin' his head sheepish. "Shall shall I put them in?" "Oh, you might as well," says Old Hickory. And once more, with Vee at the wheel, we sneaks off in the moonlight for Nunca Secos Key. We wasn't a chatty lot of adventurers.
"Don't be stuffy any longer, Cap'n," he pleaded. "We've gone fur enough. I give up. You are deep-water, all right!" Cap'n Sproul made no reply. Suddenly catching a moment that seemed favorable, he lashed the wheel, and with mighty puffing and grunting "inched" in the main-sheet. "She ought to have a double reef," he muttered. "But them petrified sons of secos couldn't take in a week's wash."
"O-o-o-oh!" says Vee, givin' a little squeal. "Who could do anything like that?" "I'm not saying," says I; "but there's a certain party who ain't just what he seems. You'd never guess, either. But just keep your eye on J. Dudley." "Wh-a-at!" gasps Vee. "Mr. Simms?" "Uh-huh," says I. "Listen. He knows about Nunca Secos Key, don't he? And about the gold and jewels there?" "That's so," says Vee.
"I can tell you the old Spanish name, however, which no one on the west coast seems to know. It is Nunca Secos Key meaning the key that is never dry." "Huh!" says I. "That listens better in Spanish. Better not translate if you want to make a hit." "I am merely stating the facts as they are," says Rupert. He's a serious-minded gink, and all frivolous cracks are lost on him completely.
In the larger of the two buildings the slab in question was twenty-three feet four inches long and seventeen feet eight inches wide; its thickness was twelve inches. Upon it stood, in all probability, the statue of the god. The niche must, in fact, have been the secos, or sanctuary properly speaking. The large oblong hall was the naos or cella.
So I chases right up there. She's out. The maid admits she went away with a party answerin' Killam's description. I wouldn't have been sure, though, if I hadn't found a map of Florida on the lib'ry table and Nunca Secos Key marked on it. Now, what do you know about that? Auntie! Ain't that rich?" No hilarity from Old Hickory not even one of them cracked concrete smiles of his.
I couldn't have said exactly which way to go, but Vee never hesitates a second. She steers straight back on the course we'd come, and inside of fifteen minutes we shoots past a point and opens up a whole clump of islands, with one tiny one tucked away in the middle. "That's it!" shouts Rupert, jumpin' up and down. "That's Nunca Secos Key!" "Maybe," says Old Hickory.
Honest, I hadn't thought she was takin' notice at all when I was givin' Vee a full account of my afternoon session with Rupert. She never does chime in much with our talk. And I judged she was too busy with her sweater-knittin' to hear a word. But here she is, askin' details. "Why," says I, "Captain Killam calls it Nunca Secos Key." "What an odd name!" says Auntie.
We was on Nunca Secos Key, with the Gulf of Mexico murmurin' gentle behind us, and out in front a big red sun was blazin' through the black pines that edge the west coast of Florida. Five of us, includin' Vee and Captain Rupert Killam and me; and each in our own peculiar way was registerin' the Pollyanna-Mrs. Wiggs stuff. Why not?
"Bah!" says Old Hickory. "Whaddye mean, traitor?" "He's plotting to send confederates to Nunca Secos Key before we get there," says Rupert. "Plotting to steal our buried treasure. See! He was just sending a message to some of his gang." "Eh!" snorts Mr. Ellins. "A message?" Meyers fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over. "Huh!" says Old Hickory, puzzlin' it out. "'Advise how infant is doing.
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