That the cases were parallel was soon exhibited with startling proof. For some moments Howard had been noticing a great grey hull, banded with tarnished gold, that loomed across the pack two or three ships ahead. As he drew nearer, he saw, with wonder, its strange architecture. Huge, round-bellied, with castle-like structures reared at stem and stern, it rose about the other wrecks, tier above tier, with lines of frowning ports from which protruded the mouths of old fashioned cannon. No such ship had sailed the ocean for years--not since the days when Spain was in her glory and her rich fleets bore the riches of America to fill her already overflowing coffers. It must have lain screened in the heart of the ship-continent for at least two centuries, to be at last spewed forth in time to meet the curious gaze of an alien race. From the topgallant poop of a modern sailing-ship, Howard studied it curiously, while behind him the rest of the party looked on with amazement. “Sure, and that’s the very spirit and image of them I was spakin’ about,” remarked Joyce, triumphantly. “An’ what sort of a ship do you suppose she is, sor?” “She’s a Spanish galleon, beyond doubt,” rejoined Howard. “She’s the very type of those old treasure-ships. And there are more of the same kind behind her. Look!” Along the open channel, far away to the sunset, stretched a file of ancient vessels, now in single file, now in double. Not all were galleons, but all plainly belonged to dead and gone ages. While the others of their kind had long ago perished from human sight, here, in this lost corner of the world, these had lingered on, slowly decaying, like the once mighty nation that sent them forth. Howard stared at them in wondering amaze. But Joyce recalled him to himself. “Did you say treasure, sor?” he insinuated. Howard laughed. “Oh, yes,” he answered, indifferently. “She’s a treasure-ship, all right, though that isn’t to say that she has treasure aboard. Still, it’s not unlikely. There may be a million apiece for all of us on her--if we could only carry it away. Hold on! Where are you going?” Joyce was already climbing through one of the open ports of the galleon, but at Howard’s call he paused. “Sure, an’ I’m going to look after that million,” he returned, defiantly. Howard hesitated. Then he noticed a restless movement of the missionary and eager glances by the two women and laughed. “Go ahead and look for it,” he said. “But be careful. Remember the ship must be rotten through and through; I doubt whether her decks will bear your weight.” Joyce disappeared, but a moment later stuck his head out of the port again. “She’s better nor she looks, sor,” he averred. “The planks are rotten, but I think they’ll hold. Perhaps your good lady would like to come aboard.” Howard glanced at Dorothy. “His good lady certainly would,” she smiled back. A moment later all stood on one of the galleon’s many decks.