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Updated: June 20, 2025
It was a poor guess, for when we hits Sixth Avenue there's no yellow taxi in sight. "Wouldn't Auntie's game be to double back home?" I suggests. "We'll see," says Old Hickory, and gives the order to beat it uptown again. And, sure enough, just as we gets in sight of the apartment house, there's the other taxi, with Auntie haulin' Captain Killam out hasty.
"You see, although she knows perfectly well I've heard all about it, Auntie makes a deep mystery of everything connected with this cruise. It's that absurd Captain Killam who puts her up to it, I believe." "Romantic Rupert?" says I. "Oh, he's a soft-shell on that subject.
To anticipate your curiosity I will state now that this is a machine for making and distributing poisonous gas, as our treasure island is infested with rattlesnakes and mosquitos. It may also be useful in discouraging anyone who tries to interfere with our enterprise. Am I correct, Captain Killam?" "Quite," says Rupert, noddin' his head solemn.
"If it will help the process any, I may say that I am considering the possibility of going on a cruise South with Captain Killam for my health." At which Old Hickory drops his left eyelid and indulges in what passes with him for a chuckle. That's my cue to grin knowin', after which I gets my hat and starts off with Rupert.
So when Cap'n Killam has been in on the carpet near an hour, with no signs of his either havin' been let out or fired through a window, I begins to get nervous. Once Mr. Robert starts to go into Old Hickory's sanctum; but he finds the door locked, and shortly after that he shuts his roll-top and leaves for the day.
If there'd ever been any stock issued by the Ellins-Hemmingway Exploration and Development Company, I'll bet you could have bought in a controllin' interest for two stacks of cigarette coupons and a handful of assorted campaign buttons. You see, Old Hickory and Auntie had hung all their bright hopes on this Captain Rupert Killam.
I didn't last so long, either. Rupert, though, comes out strong. He makes the sand fly at a great rate. Vee stands by, holdin' an electric torch, while Auntie watches from the boat. "We're makin' quite a hole in it, Mr. Ellins," says I, sort of encouragin'. "It is the usual thing to do, I believe," says he, "before owning up that you've been fooled. Here, Killam, let me have another go at that."
Vee and I had gone out and shown this poor prune of a Captain Killam where his bloomin' island was, we'd rescued Auntie and Old Hickory from bein' stuck in the mud, and we'd been officially counted in as possible prize winners. More'n that, we'd seen the treasure mound. "Torchy," says Vee, the first chance we has for a few side remarks after lunch that day, "what do you think?
"When he makes a swing with that, the point goes in solid and sticks. "Right! It is a log," he announces. Killam tests it, and he says it's a log, too. "An old palmetto trunk," says he, proddin' at it. "Two of them, one laid on the other. No, three. I say, that's funny. Let's clear away all of this stuff."
Killam, do you think you can pilot us back without trying to cut new channels through the State of Florida?" Rupert don't make any promises, but he gets busy; and pretty soon we're under way. It's about then that I springs this hunch of mine. "Say, Mr. Ellins," says I, "was this island you were lookin' for a little one with a hump in the middle?"
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