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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Shall we start to dig a hole here?" asked Tom, shovel in hand. "Make a little hole and we'll touch off the dynamite." A short time sufficed to bury the explosive in a good location. "Let's all stand back now and see what happens," cried Tom. "Mr. Harrison, show Harry how to light it," requested Jack. "Stand back; here come Wyckoff and Lopez."
"If we can be of any help to you, just let us know and we'll be ready to render any assistance possible," offered Jack. "Thank you, boys; I appreciate your kind offer, and you may be able to help me if my suspicions are correct." "Why, what has Wyckoff been doing?" inquired Tom. "Who said it was Wyckoff?" laughingly replied Harrison. "Well, it seems to be mighty plain that it is he."
A shower of sand fell over the boys concealed behind the clump of palmettos. Instinctively they all drew closer their fellows. The ground shook beneath them while all around it seemed to be raining sand. As they looked at the spot again they could make out but two figures standing. Wyckoff and Lopez were on opposite sides of the pit. The negroes were nowhere to be seen.
That composition had to wait awhile, in the earliest time, to find its proper centre, having been from the free point of view I thus cultivate a little encumbered by the presence of the most aged of our relatives, the oldest person I remember to have familiarly known if it can be called familiar to have stood off in fear of such strange proofs of accomplished time: our Great-aunt Wyckoff, our maternal grandmother's elder sister, I infer, and an image of living antiquity, as I figure her to-day, that I was never to see surpassed.
Hatred seemed to ooze from him as he sat quiet very much against his will. Another shout from the boat gave with its note of triumph a message that the boys were meeting success in their efforts to get the Fortuna off the beach. Wyckoff looked intently that way. "Ha!" he ejaculated. "They're fetching it! Good boys!"
"I'll tell you what I'll do," volunteered Tom. "I'll make a running noose in this line I brought along. You boys cover Lopez with your guns and I'll go as close as I can and lasso Wyckoff. We can all get hold of the line then and maybe we'll be able to pull him out. It wouldn't be right to leave him there to go down." At that moment Wyckoff seemed to realize his danger.
We're usually shrouded in so much mystery you could cut it with a knife. What's the good news? Is the treasure discovered?" "Quit your joking, Tom. This may be more serious than we think. Wyckoff is not writing letters for the fun of it. He means business." "I can testify to that," declared Frank. "He surely does mean business. This treasure stuff is actually real to Wyckoff."
By a magnificent effort of will he kept his eyes fastened on the prisoner, who stared intently toward the Fortuna as if fascinated by what he saw. Thus they sat for a moment or two. Then Tom regained his composure. Wyckoff glanced out of the corner of his eye narrowly at his guard. Tom laughed. "You didn't want the provisions badly enough to wait for them, did you, you old fox?" he taunted.
"Ah," observed Jack stooping over a prostrate figure near the foot of the ladder leading to the deck of the Fortuna, "he sleeps." "What's the trouble with the watchman, if it is he?" asked Tom. "It is the watchman," Jack answered with a tenseness of expression, "and he's struck with bottle paralysis. I wonder if the Fortuna is all right, or has that Wyckoff had the run of things a while."
"Surely that can't be Wyckoff," declared Tom. "He wouldn't be around here at this time of day. Couldn't you be mistaken?" "I don't think so," stoutly protested Jack. "He seemed to be poking his head around the corner of that shed and when he saw I noticed him, he dodged back. I am quite sure it was he." "Well, I think he has his nerve to be sneaking around the yard at this hour.
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