Then came a series of lockers, with alcoves and shelves between, which occupied the space above the berths. These, and the drawers beneath the berths, were searched, but yielded no secrets. George Warren, on the port side, searched likewise, but with equally discouraging results. Harvey, forward, had the hatch off and the water-casks and some spare rigging thrown out on deck. The cabin deck and cockpit of the _Viking_ looked as though the boat had been in eruption and had heaved up all its contents. “My!” exclaimed George Warren, “this is hot work. I feel like a pirate sacking a ship for gold.” “Only there isn’t any gold,” said Harvey; “but I’ll try the ballast before I quit.” “I’m afraid that’s not much use,” said Henry Burns. “They wouldn’t go so deep as that to hide anything. I’m afraid I’ve raised your hopes for nothing.” But Harvey was not for giving up so soon; and, seeing his heart was set on it, the others took hold with a will and helped him. They took up the cabin floor and lifted out the sticks of ballast. “Glad there isn’t very much of this stuff,” said George Warren, as he passed a heavy piece of the iron out to Harvey. “Well, so am I,” responded Harvey. “There’s lead forward, so we won’t disturb that. But I’ve heard of hiding things this way, and there might be a hollow piece of the iron, with a cap screwed in it, or something of that sort.” “He must have been reading detective stories,” said Henry Burns. Perhaps Harvey, himself, came to the conclusion that he was a little too visionary; for, after he had sounded each piece with the hammer until they had a big pile of it heaped outside, he grinned rather sheepishly and suggested that they had gone far enough. The boys needed no second admission on his part. They passed the stuff in again, and it was stowed away as before. “Say, Henry,” said Jack Harvey, when, after another half-hour, they had restored the yacht to its former order, “this wasn’t one of your jokes, was it—this hidden treasure idea?” Henry Burns sat down by the wheel, wearily. “No, it wasn’t, honour bright,” he replied. “But I guess it is a kind of a joke, after all. You four can pitch in and throw me overboard, if you like.” But they were too tired to accept Henry Burns’s invitation. CHAPTER XVII. A RAINY NIGHT The summer days went by pleasantly now, with naught to interrupt the enjoyment of the yachtsmen. The three yachts, the _Viking_, the _Surprise_, and the _Spray_, went on a friendly cruise around Grand Island, putting in at little harbours overnight, and the crews waking the stillness of many a small hamlet with their songs and skylarking at twilight. They had races from port to port, the largest boat giving the other two time-allowance. They fished and swam and grew strong.