Cursed be the treasureDrake, H. B. (Henry Burgess)
General
Cursed be the treasure
Drake, H. B. (Henry Burgess)
Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Love stories; Mystery fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
I hastily withdrew my face from the light of the lantern, which was
shining through a crevice in the wall of the cave; and then like
a blurred picture focusing to clearness everything took shape and
coherence in my mind, and I knew exactly where I was.
The lantern was standing where my father had placed it the day before
when he had taken me down the secret passage and together we had
examined the great closed doors. The crevice was the one through which
I had thrust my hand, clearing it of its rubbish, so that now the
lantern could shine right through. But now I was on the other side.
Somehow I had dived under the submarine mouth of this cavern, never
suspecting its existence. Quickly the thought flashed through my head
that now I had found the hiding-place I wanted; but the thought melted
as quickly as it came, for I had other matter on hand. For through the
cranny I could hear the voices speaking distinctly enough to make out
what they were saying, though of course I couldn't see anything as
the lantern glared full into my face if I attempted to look into the
passage beyond.
And what I heard soon began to have an interest for me.
There were two men, it seemed, and I assumed they were in their boat,
probably on guard, for the tide was rising to the full now, and the
cave must have been deep in water. I couldn't catch all they were
saying; but when I heard the words, "Cut accrosst his hand," I strained
my ears to the uttermost.
"Yus," was the reply, "an' a burn too, warn't it?"
"Aye; an' a brat with 'un, they do say."
"Wull, I s'pose they'll nab 'un all right."
"Hope so. Must have been ee what let Jem an' Roger into the trap last
year."
"Ah! Wull, Dirk'll see to 'un."
"If he bean't too cute."
"He'll need be if ee can hide they tracks."
There was a short pause, and the last speaker began again:
"But how did Dirk get wind of it?"
"Wind of what?"
"Why, the burn, and the brat, an' that."
"Dunno quite. Some one let on, I spose. Some one what was nabbed, I
dessay, an' found 'un out when it was too late. Got word through, I
expect. Dirk's sharp."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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